Farewell To Islay Poem by jim hogg
Farewell To Islay
Snowflakes on your long blonde hair
we slipped and slid on icy ruts,
by the curve of soot stained tenements
forever swept from Eldon street.
The Kelvin cut through floes of ice
by the back of the bustling Doublet.
Students of liquor spilled out laughing
in front of us into the snow.
A cold wind swirled through Maryhill
to the doors of the Q M Halls,
where I last heard your island voice;
and last looked into your pale blue eyes.
Before you left for Oban
from a Glasgow that can't be found now.
Pale blue ink on pale blue lines
reminds me of your letters still;
reminds me of a teenage girl
who crossed the sea from Islay,
of tremulous shyness,
and a tender lilting song,
when I was lost in all that you were.
Your beauty was the least of it.
And yet, I recklessly figured
that a bit part
was somehow good enough...
What is it that really matters here?
I might have asked myself.
But all of my so called intellect
was aloft, on blind wings
or juggling mindlessly
on lower tracks I couldn't jump
and in the end I let it all go;
no explanation why,
no farewell to Islay,
silently,
as if you'd never written,
as if we'd never been
except for a wintry absence
of your laughter by the Kelvin;
of pale blue eyes through flakes of snow.
Comment under written in early 2014 after I'd spoken on the phone (for work related reasons) to a shopkeeper on Islay who knew May and her family...
I heard you'd never married From a stranger yesterday Exactly forty years have passed Since I last saw your face The snow was falling lightly As we strolled through Kelvinbridge One afternoon in wintertime When we were both still kids She said you took up nursing And you've built a house at home While I continued nurturing The art of letting go I climbed the pointless mountains Of ambition and conceit I fell in love and fell back out Walked both sides of the street They say the sea is bluer Where the great Atlantic roars And out of sight means out of mind It isn't true, of course. That tenement is down now Only memories can frame That first floor flat in Eldon street Where I first spoke your name The vanity of beauty should forbid me to suggest you stood alone, without compare but, I was prejudiced With Islay in the distance Ringing softly like a bell I pretended not to listen But couldn't break its spell Now Kelvingrove is snowbound And the QM Halls are gone But yesterday keeps coming round Though time keeps moving on They say the sea is bluer Where the great Atlantic roars And out of sight means out of mind It isn't true, of course. (song)
Hi Jim, I liked this sincerity of yours internal voices: 'What is it that really matters here? I might have asked myself. But all of my so called intellect was aloft, on blind wings or juggling mindlessly on lower tracks I could not jump and in the end I let it all go; ' Also this an excellent picture: 'pale blue eyes through flakes of snow.' For which really costs mourning... and regret.... Tsira.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 8:16:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Very well priced flow of poesy......