Aonghas MacNeacail Poems

between the trees
can be seen the tree
a pale sun chose
as lantern
...

in this narrow bite
of the year with the days
closing in on the sun
you sit counting the deaths
...

the horse's back like waves in motion
in the dreams of those who hear it
rider of the darkest night who's
raising thunder from hard earth
...

between bed's head and heel
a nettle blanket spreads
where there was a young field
where there was sowing and reaping
...

on the brae of the bridge,
sitting in my car, not moving,
in a sea of glass and steel,
of furious and patient heads
...

in memoriam sorley maclean

the day you crossed the deal bridge, between
unpredictable life and memory, there were tears
on the pale slopes of our faces, like quaichs ofc
...

you wait
where the voices are singing
like old iron
and the eyes like
neon windows
...

and your face at the window,
child of memory,
as you count the snowflakes
...

white mare
on a sallow brae
at night fall
between stillness and speed
as pale as a dream
...

it is my fate
to be a bard
who sings out loud,
although unhearing
...