Ardmair re-visited

The other day I wrote about my painting in progress, the one called Ardmair. Finished now, and below is the poem to go with it on our Pictures and Poems 2010 calendar (October).

On Ardmair*

Our talk slows down as last light paints the sky
and we can feel the movement of the globe,
hear gentle surf, the wheeling seagull's cry,
watch land and sea in pastel colours robe
this Ardmair: here where calming autumn seems
a place of Highlands magic to redeem,
inspire, an artist and a poet's dream.

I think perhaps Blake's feet in ancient times
would want to tread a land unspoiled as this,
a place where there's no discord, all things rhyme,
and all is sensate to an evening's kiss,
when no-one's going far and peace is sought
and found for what is here cannot be bought,
and things that may be purchased count for nought.


Bryan Islip
Jan 09

*Ardmair is a place probably too small to be called a hamlet. It's a few miles north of the small town of Ullapool in Scotland's Western Highlands.

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