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Scotland ~ It's a wee journey across the mind, in-between the hemispheres of mystery and history. A place where the old world awakens the new to an ever evading pattern of hopes and dreams, like the landscape itself, rugged, yet! Holding such wild and undomesticated beauty that the heart can't escape it's pillage upon ones Soul.

There's not a Scot the world over, that does not know the haunting cries this country yields upon them night and day, always calling them home to her... I call her my eternal Mistress, and that she is."Of all the small nations on earth, perhaps only the ancient Greeks surpass the Scots in their contribution to mankind." Winston Churchill

In medieval Latin, the term Scottus meant Irishman. Scotland gets her name from the Irish. The Scots were a tribe of Celts descended from the Goddess Scotia, a daughter of one of Egypt's Pharaoh's Cingris. She was given in marriage to one of the Milesians called Niul, and was the mother of Goidel- the progenitor of the Gaels. In the country of Scotland, called Caledonia by the Romans, there live a race called the Picts (Painted People) Also a goidelic tribe they had come to the British Isles long before the later Celts had. The Scots from Ireland created a kingdom on the West Coast of Alba (Scotland) called the kingdom of Dal Riada, of which derived from the same kingdom In County Antrim Ireland. Scottish history is a full embodiment of history, myths and charged with character, it is this that fills the veins of the Scots blood.

Scotland is filled with character and charm, a place where strangers are welcomed and made to feel at home. A place where company and song go hand in hand, A country rich in promise and with a future that is still bright and bold.

"This is my land, my home. You are welcomed to journey her sweet abode, partake in her charm, and I hope each of you will leave her, knowing you have been graced with a sight of God's grace." Alisdaire

(Poem was written on my flight to America in 1983 - not an easy Journey to make)

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
1983

The engines roar
Movement is thrust forward
shaking in the vibrations of its force.

Looking out of the small window
I see the Earth passing away beneath us
Those green green fields, that once held my dreams
Are fading into the distance
Those trees and hedges, that once echoed my soul
will become in time tender past memories.

Lines are crossing the land below
grey lines
Upon them matchbox replica's move to and fro.

Roof tops with chimneys bursting forth
this world looks so different from up here
Little villages and towns scatter the patch worked quilt
A domain of little people, Leprechauns
I see myself down there, staring up, the Soul
Waving farewell to its body.

deep inside
wells those tears of parting
saying farewell to the heart's final beat.

I lay back my head

close-to my eyes
feeling the parting of friends and family, the place
I shall always call my home
that land these hands have held, its texture
Like a woman's Lily soft skin
No soil on Earth clings stronger to the bone, no dream as bright
As dreams of journeys home.

In my silent thoughts
I hear the cries of friends
Echoing the haunting voice of home and place.

Yet I did leave her like an ungrateful lover
and how she has grieved for her wondering companions
clinging to her children with every essence of her form
But I shall always dream of her,
Of her tenderness and her warmth
Farewell my dearest Mistress, My aching heart.

Your Lover
Your child
now has left your womb.

But I shall return dear breath, back to you
As the western Winds return again upon the Firth
To lay but once more within your arms,
to feel your form beneath my flesh
And like the fragrance that flows gently from your image
My Soul and Body,
Together with yours,
Shall forever roam.

Please, do not poet new poetry in this forum.