When I Am Old Poem by John Beaton

When I Am Old

Rating: 5.0


Hie me to the hill-ground,
the high hill ground of Scotland,
to battle bladed wind-blasts
my forebears fought before me,
to stagger stammer-footed,
across the ancient highlands,
across their schists and drifting bones
across their shifting ruin-stones,
where, witchily, the gray pine crones
still call me to my history.

Leave me there to wayfare
the curlew-plainted wild moor,
to smell the sweet bog-myrtle
beside the peaty burn;
to stumble crumbling scree slopes
that roll with rutting stag roars,
and rediscover drove roads
and moss embossing lost abodes
where blood-fed drovers rested loads
bound south and trudging their return.

Let me find a lone shore
where fishermen lie buried
in graves of wave-flung flotsam
with neither name nor past:
to stand there like a Culdee
as mist-trails move unhurried
on island hills and holms and voes
where headlands creaked with yells of crows
as birlinns swooned in hell-bent blows
that heaved the shore and cleaved the mast.

Bear me to the black shed
where the blacksmith shod the plough-horse
to plod long narrow furrows
that pleat the folding field,
and when my storm approaches,
I'll stand before its raw force
by furnace flames of bygone ways,
and anvils ringing down the days
that forged my soul and bent these bays;
I'm of this land—it's here I'll yield,
to the stubble and seeds of the past.

Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: death,scotland
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Many people emigrate and never lose the connection with their old home. This poem is in the voice of a Scottish emigrant who wants to close the circle when death approaches and return to die in the land of his birth.

In each stanza there are six lines of trimeter, dactylic to start (HIE me TO the HILL-ground) , then four lines of iambic tetrameter (aCROSS their SCHISTS and DRIFTing BONES) . The rhyme scheme is xaxbxacccb (x's unrhymed) . For closure, the last stanza has a final extra line that rhymes with the final one in the previous stanza.

This poem has been published on the HyperTexts website and in "Better Than Starbucks" literary journal.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gordon R Menzies 21 November 2019

A dram raised to this one John...much enjoyed.

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John Beaton 22 November 2019

Thanks, Gordon. Slainte!

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Dr Antony Theodore 21 September 2018

when my storm approaches, I'll stand before its raw force by furnace flames of bygone ways, and anvils ringing down the days. thinking of death, thinking of the past.. all the virtues and falsehood that carry weight in our minds.. we cogitate and meditate over life and death and a life after death..... beautiful message my dear poet. thank u very much. tony

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John Beaton 21 September 2018

Thanks, Tony. Much appreciated.

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Paui Hartal 16 September 2018

A masterly crafted poem, John; pulsating with energy, rhythm and emotion.

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John Beaton 19 September 2018

Thanks, Paul. I write more for recitation than for the page and it's gratifying to find readers who have an ear for the meter.

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Bernard F. Asuncion 11 September 2018

John, such an excellent write.....................

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John Beaton 14 September 2018

Thanks, Bernard.

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