Sunday, April 07, 2013

Highlands

(Besides participating in the 2013 Blogging A to Z April Challenge, I'm also participating in National Poetry Writing Month. In NaPoWriMo, I'm supposed to write a poem a day for the whole month. Yes, I'm crazy. Here's the seventh poem.)

Highlands

In the highlands a beauteous lass lived,
skin like winter snow, hair radiant red,
lips that curved in an impish grin.

In the highlands a handsome lad lived,
strong of back, eyes as green as the sea,
a smile like the summer sun.

At a gathering called by the High Lord,
they danced the Foursome Reel,
with eyes only for each other's flesh.

Late that night they crept quietly out
to the meadow with a soft gray blanket
and shared their fiery passion.

"I will love only thee," he declared.
"No one else is there for me," she swore.
Naked bodies intertwined until the dawn.

But he came from the Clan Campbell
while she sprang from Clan MacDonald,
no fiercer foes or feud ever there was.

So the lovers stole away at the dark
of the moon to escape to the coast,
but pursued by warriors of both clans.

Running hand in hand across the meadows,
past the barrows of ancient dread kings,
the lover fled, but the hounds drew nigh.

At last the lovers came to a cliff high,
down below the waves crashed.
"Trapped," she cried despairing.

He drew his sword, swearing
to sell his life dearly for their love,
but then a light appeared.

A blue white glow surrounded
a tall woman, beautiful and bright,
powerful and perilous. She beckoned.

When the warriors and hounds
reached the cliff, they found no one,
only the waves crashed below.

Then they fell to fighting among
themselves until the dawn
and they withdrew, muttering,

blaming the other clan for the loss,
for it be plain to all the lass and lad
had leapt to their deaths.

But to this day, the old-timers say,
on certain nights, when the moon is dark,
the lad and lass love and then twirl

while the Wild Folk pipe tunes
that entrance all who hear
to dance the reel on the cliff high.

(Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without prior permission. Thank you for reading.)

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