Refugee

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Dawn breaks,

With a fire whipped ocean

And the boatmen’s song.

Voices in waves

Sail the morning winds.

Tumbling from salt spray lips

Rhythm and hymns,

Caught on wings of a guillemot.

In a theatre of fog

Music takes flight,

Rising, like a streak of mist

To face heaven’s door.

And boatmen weep.

Sing goodbye, to the waves,

Lost upon the sorry sea,

As day dies still,

And the boatmen sleep,

And the boatmen sleep.

And we sleep.

©EilidhGClark

Miss Brown – Class of 2011

people coffee meeting team
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“Books open, pens on paper.”

Her voice is fanciful –

Worldly words of wisdom.

Whimsical.

Take a breath Miss Brown.

Over your shoulder, birds trilling

in your ear. Knowledge?

“You understand, You hear?”

“Wings have spanned, grown and flew”.

Miss Brown is telling you.

Over your shoulder in her parchment suit.

Scattered somehow, this puzzle

this test, this class.

Yet sewn together so neatly, so tight,

so fast, that brains leak words inspired.

Alert, not tired Miss Brown.

Spoken proper. Knitted

like a scarf, like the missing words

from a mother passed.

Thank you Miss Brown, Thanks for that.

“That’s all for today.”

An end in sight. Taught by one with

gust and might,

taught by Miss Brown in her parchment suit.

©Eilidh G Clark

This poem is dedicated to one of the most amazing and inspirational people I have had the pleasure of meeting. Madeleine Brown, Stevenson College Edinburgh. Access to Humanities course – English Literature and Communications 2011.