Here’s a bit of a review….

I posted poems in batches when I was getting this site off the ground.  I wanted there to be plenty of content so my readers could peruse and find plenty to read, but I am afraid that some of my posts got lost in the mess so I am going to post a few of them again.

You can also go to my Poetry Page to read all of the poems I have Posted and to the Fantasy/Fiction to read the first installment of “The Third of July.”  The “Third of July” is a Historical Fiction Short Story.  I love to get some feedback on it and any other writings you find you like, dislike, or find interesting.

Here is a Pub in Edinburgh.  I wrote this when Nina and I spent a few days in Scotland.  Scotland is one of my favorite places in the world to be.  I wrote this poem sitting in the Toolbooth Pub, located on the Royal mile, between Edinburgh Castle and the Queen’s Palace.  I got this overwhelming sense that if I listen hard enough that I could hear horses hooves, and if I ran outside I would have been thrown back in to the 17 or 1800’s.  Enjoy

A Pub In Edinburgh

Justly refreshed in Tolbooth I rest
A whisper from Furgusson I hear
Close your eyes and I’ll show you our lives…
Klip clops of hurried hooves draws near

And the Gate lores, I open the door
Night winds send shivers from head to ground
Dung filled streets and lingering whiskey
Coughing I stagger to Kirk then Hound

On to the Thin Place where I will taste
Knowledge through this, the Thought of the Dead
Elusive ears, vision disappears

Justly refreshed in Tolbooth I sit
Unlikely? Yes, but this I confess
Nothing is as queer as Auld Reekie
Echoes nurture, fuse past and future
-Though only a slight portion of Strother and Tweedie

                                            And a poor Scott may be my lot

                                            But there is truth in what I tell

                                            To be born a Scot is Luxury

                                            To die a Scot, Great Legacy


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