Scotland

Looking for the perfect place

Looking for the perfect place, searching far and long

I found it on my own door step; it’s been there all along

The beauty of the misty hills the glens and sandy shores

Bring the tourists to my land, landing in theirs scores

 

I have been blind and unaware of Scotland in its glory

The castles and the battle fields are whispering a story

A story that’s for all of us who search for sunny weather

Find the place of your heart and dreams lurking in the heather

 

Primal Scream (second Look)

Looking for the perfect place, searching far and long

I found it on my own door step; it’s been there all along

The beauty of the misty hills, the glens and sandy shores

Brings the tourists to my land, landing in their scores

 

I ‘v been blind and unaware of Scotland’s wonderful glory

The castles and the battlefields are whispering a story

A story that’s for all of us, who search for sunny weather

Find the place of your heart and dreams, lurking in the heather.

 

Now the worlds a dangerous place, where suicide bombers roam

Queues miles long in the terminals, you’re better off at home.

Our city centres are full of gangs, packing and taking pills.

Get back to what it’s all about, head for the Scottish hills

 

From high up in my vantage point everything’s looking pretty

The distant twinkling lights like stars, disguise an evil city

Sitting, thinking and looking down teardrops leave my eyes

Blue flashing lights on distant roads, another mother cries

 

I have a thought for friends that died chasing an illusive dream

I stretch my arms to meet the sky, and let out a primal scream

 Fresh back from a trip around Scotland I started to write a poem that captured my thoughts on Scotland and how it compared with holiday resorts overseas.

My first attempt was a bit shortbread tin and i got stuck after two chapters.

My second look at it was after being back in Livingston for a while, I had just lost a couple of good friends to the Grand overseer of the Heavens, Glasgow airport had been victim of an attack by terrorists, and Scotland looked a different place from the one on the shortbread tin.