POEM TITLE The Guardian of Blackness-on-Sea
POEM
Familiar scene he’d helped me see so many times before,
From water’s edge not a minute from his door,
Of ancient village on Blackness Cove,
In early days smoke streaked from many a cooking stove.
Though in my youth I oft tormented him,
With boyish pranks I’d follow every silly whim,
Yet, against my indiscretions the Auld Yin never railed,
And patiently explored with me ‘The Ship That Never Sailed’.
The Castle, proudly projecting from the land,
Solid, like his faith, the rock on which it stand,
Perched on stone from which quartzite drools,
Slimy weed accumulates in mysterious rock pools.
All buildings resist the power of the sea,
Importance of each explained to me,
Boat Club and Old School Hall,
Public House and imposing Castle Wall.
Prayed in Mission Church to keep our souls right,
Saw lighthouse blink watchful glow at night,
Drew seagulls flight, the wheel, swoop and glide,
Followed fast as they dive along the tide.
Grand tales of sailing boats he told to me,
Of wind-blown joy and tragic loss at sea,
Name them all as across the firth they tack,
In brightest hues, red, yellow, green and black.
Taught me to close my eyes, taste salt upon the air,
Sniff for all the tangs that lingered there,
South wind, pineapple broom and juniper trees,
North, seaweed stink and arctic freeze.
To listen for the storm waters crash,
Seagull cries as they seek out the trash,
Wind rustle leaves in gentle breeze,
Whining blasts that crack the trees.
Though counselled me indulgence was a sin,
Still, bought my first dram at the Blackness Inn,
Later, to savour fine fare in the very same spot,
Enjoying a quiz at The Lobster Pot.
The shore, always his favourite place,
A time to commune in God’s Good Grace,
To keep the Lord’s sweeping shoreline trimmed,
We picked the stones, and skimmed.
We walked the beach the day before he died,
Pointed yet at some new thing washed up on the tide,
Changed now forevermore,
Familiar scene he’d helped me see so many times before.
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