The Maine ****
Snow-covered, the fierce cat awaits.
It’s eyes grew, as it stares,
the ears pointed up elegantly to the sound of squeaky mice,
wired whiskered fanned out from his small pink nose.
A mouth caged with white daggers, or the wires of a porcupine.
Cold legs wrapped in furry tights
and sharp talons that grip onto the oak tree.
Question Poem
What are hot? Chips from the local chip shop,
a hotdog and a large volcano erupting from
the Italian Stromboli.
What are cold? A snowman’s heart, the
frostbite feeding the finger tips on a frosty
day and a sparkling snowflake.
What are heavy? An engine of an aeroplane, a
determined heart of a footballer and the double
decker buses on the Edinburgh streets.
What are light? The heart of a winning
football team, a feathery feather of a seagull
at Troon Beach and the strands of hair
swaying in the wind.
What are loud? the scream of a scared child,
The glass bins tumbling along the street
and a baby’s cry.
What are quiet? The moment when your
sister leaves the house, a concentrating
class and the children tip toing along
the corridor.
I have never….but I have
I have never climbed Goat Fell in Arran
but I have climbed Loudoun Hill near the head
of the River Irvine, east of Darvel.
I have never ran an exhausting marathon
but I have ran along Troon beach while the waves
crash down upon the shore.
I have never signed the National Anthem at
a Scotland football match
but I have been asked to sign the Nation
Anthem for the Woman’s Scotland team this
Thursday at Hamden Park for the world cup
qualifier against Austria.
I have never seen the Northern Lights
but I have seen the brightest, fireworks as
perfect as a picture.
I have never flown on a resistant red arrow
running through the sky
but I have flown on a perfect white plane.
When the Rain Falls
Kari Young always had the fear of leaving home. The time had come. She glared out the square window in sadness, letting a few tears out. She missed her family, waving to Davey the postman and anyway, the smelt warm and cosy with a small draft of wind. The room was the same place
Mrs Grant’s oldest son slept in but he’s in France fighting at war. She gets teary whenever we say about the war. Kari was no fool and after on conversation, she had learned no to tough that one room.
Her first day at school had come. The teacher was kindly enough woman called Miss Mancini. She had soon found out she can’t write, Kari at the back of the classroom so she could focus. Kari worked with a copy jotter and a pencil. Her letters weren’t that bad. She kept her head down and practiced as hard as she could. The bell had rang Kari was happy school was finally over.
The weeks flew by and Kari began to make out a routine. Her days were spent with fun and laughter, also she had helped Mrs Grant with chores and other house work. The weeds got picked out of the stones, they even completely did up the room so it was more comfortable for Kari. Soon, the winter had left the town and spring started a fresh day and warm breeze.
Last thing that night, Kari stood at the bedroom window, watching the stars as the slipped away. Nothing happened, except for one thing. Every night Mrs grant turned on the fairy lights outside and then she would make her way down into the forest with a lantern. What was she doing? Why did she go into the forest every night?
Kari did not have to wait that long to find out. One night, at the start of June, When trees had come into leaf and flowers covered the forest, she asked Kari to follow her. The lantern made everything brighter and Kari trudged along behind her, Kari was not ready to show her that he was beginning to enjoy her new life.
The moon shone sown a silver light and stars shone in the sky but in the Forest, it was dark. The lantern made shadows that looked like monsters that will take you away. She hurried after Mrs Grant.
She stopped by a gate Kari peered through the gate. He could smell something intense, meaty an animal. Then two green eyes appeared out of the darkness. Something growled, long, low and deep. A throaty snarl like no other snarl. Kari gasped. She was looking at an enormous cat bigger than she had ever seen. “Meet Drax”, Mrs Grant whispered, “he’s a panther. I found him as a cub. Lost in the snow.”
Drax stared at Kari and padded forwards towards where Kari stood, paralysed with fear.
The Secret Poem
My secret is made from –
the friends trustworthy hearts
the unbreakable box of promises,
the trust of a team,
the hearts not breaking
and the pinkie promise.
I found it –
trapped in a pinkie promise,
crouched tight not breaking,
caged in two hearts,
crumpled in the trust
where it stays at the bottom.
The secret can –
be as strong as steel,
smooth as the quiet lake,
captured waves crashing
in the distance,
and break apart liars
till they’re trusted,
trusted carefully.
If lost this secret –
I’ll be angry and my friends
will leave….
Kari’s diary entry – Friday 25th February 2022
Yesterday evening, the most extraordinary thing happened. I was walking along Troon Beach by the sunset. The waves were crashing down onto shore pushing shells and seagulls flew overhead. It was so windy I had to put a cosy jacket and hat to try and block the wind out.
I wanted to explore the beach and look for amazing shells and pebbles. I found many different varieties of shells, so I plodded towards the sea.
By now, the sun had dipped down and the moon rose higher. The wind had dropped, the tide came in as I look at the view of sundown, I caught the scent of something fishy, something rotten.
I waited a couple moments. For something to happen. It was then it happened. Out of the shadows, some shape started to form and shifted deliberate. Two eyes with a scratch over one fixed me with a glare.
I could just make out long tentacles, devil horns and an indignant looking face. Whatever it was, came out of the water and paused. It was neither fish nor anything I could think of. As I stood watching, the creature opened its mouth to long spikey teeth like needles.
I gave a long stare. The creature crept back and moments later it disappeared into the sea.
I ran across the beach in fear, not wanting to look back. Had I just seen the Malamander? Is the Mysterious creature real like they said in the stories?
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As a Result
As a result of pigeons – another carwash.
As a result of cow’s milk – a glass of snow.
As a result of winter – frosted nose, frozen toes.
As a result of lockdown – addicted to screens.
As a result of money – plenty of shopping sprees.
As a result of plastic – rubbish in the ocean.
As a result of litter – lazy people.
As a result of corona – no shops open.
As a result of teachers – too much homework.
As a result of square sausage – party explosions for every delicious bite.
As a result of friends – laughter and happiness all the way.
As a result of Scotland – Irn bru and Scottish accents.
Walking Scotland
On Monday, I find a furry Highland Coo up in the highlands, patiently stood statue-still, it’s brown twin reflected on a black Mersadies parked nearby.
On Tuesday, I walk to the Ballast Bank, with a small picnic and some fizzy Irn Bru along with other fantastic treats.
On Wednesday, I saw St Patrick’s Primary down at the shore in Troon by the Firth of Clyde.
On Thursday, I touch Dundonald Castle, feel the loneliness of frosted stone, and watch my watch ticks every heart-beat like drums in the Scottish band.
On Friday, I taste Irn Bru fizz down my throat like a bath fizzer in my cosy bath changing colour of the water slowly.
On Saturday, I hear somebody and feel it’s echo reverberate under The Railway Bridge.
On Sunday, I dream of The Smugglers Trail being trampled on and disappearing away like a lost memory fading away.
Chapter 4
Bernadette dreamed. A familiar voice called her and she was running down a long, darkened corridor towards the familiar voice. As soon as she got closer the voice faded away, the voice shifted further away. It was her best friend’s voice. She was certain. Bernadette could remember all the memories that she had shared with her friend, the warmth and that voice something soft, something comforting but always entertaining. It was as if she felt forever lost.
She woke suddenly with a start. Morning sunlight filled through the metal slats of the barn. Robert slept longer but Hunter was up and cleaning his fur. He paused mid yawn and stared at Bernadette like a staring contest. Bernadette crawled over and began to wind the silver key hidden on his soft grey back. “That feels better. By all that satisfaction, it’s time to get back what is rightfully your friends. I saw Miss Trunchbull only fifteen minutes ago and the scoundrel is preparing her plan for the time turner! Up you get sleepy head. We’ve got work to do!”
“Oi, I was having a good sleep,” moaned Robert. Yawning, he stretched and rubbed is tired eyes.
A moment later, the group of three unlikely musketeers clambered back over the fence towards were the table of plans was tethered. The golden flames shone as bright as the sun and warm air was blowing in the opposite direction. They watched Trunchbull carrying a wooden box and the time turner roung her ugly neck. As she made her way back to Kelvin cottage, Hunter hissed, “Heave ho my hearties, here we go.”
Hunter was scampering across the field, and bounded up the three steps. The children were just behind Hunter and it was Robert who picked at the wooden box lock. To their relief, the macguffin was there with Bernadette’s friend’s designs.
“Thieves, bounders, scoundrels, rapscallions, cut-throats, pocket pinchers ram-raiders, box unlocks,” roared Trunchbull, rushing towards the planning table at a speed that was impressive for a girl of her size.
Immediately, the airship rose off the ground, into the crisp morning air. The three companions watched as Miss Trunchbull stamped her foot and bellowed insults at them, shaking her fist and spluttering but already she they were flying to high to be able to hear was she was saying.
A muffled shout from below decks had them scurrying and there they found Bernadette’s best friend, tucked up like a cold ice cube trying to melt. Bernadette and Robert severed Bernadette’s friend’s bindings. Her best friend hugged close…but only for a moment, for already was at the dangerously high. “Come on” she said, clambering away from behind the deck and taking control of the plan. “We’ll soon put some plans between ourselves and finish up with that villain, to finish up the plan.
Bernadette and Robert stood on deck watching to world slip by below while the airship flew higher above the towns and villages. Tiny houses were scattered round the edges of the fields that now looked like a quilt of many shades of green and roads ran like ribbons threading the countryside together. Robert grinned at Bernadette as she cuddled her best friend one more time. A few frail snowflakes of snow began to fall and winter kissed Bernadette’s cheek delicately. It would soon be Christmas round the corner and at least she is back with her beloved friend.
Hunter curled up beside Bernadette and snoozed.
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