Duncan/Methos Poetry 

1

by Carson Kearns
(carsonkearns@hotmail.com)
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Warning, Background and Disclaimer         .

All standard disclaimers apply. The Highlander characters are the property of Davis-Panzer and are used without permission. But I'm not making any money out if this. This material may not be copied or distributed without my permission. Do not link, publish or post this material without permission.

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ON SEEING KRONOS AGAIN

(Maireid Triste)


Wretched;
Stains deeper into fabric
bleeds on underneath.
Panic snatches at the veil–
Never get it out.

Take this
from me, I cannot
abide time and torture.

Beware, I tell you– be aware;
Dark monkey on my back
Wretched–
No old gods served in these
neon streets.

Most souls you swallow these days
Don’t even stretch your lips.

 

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He recalled such a poem that Duncan had written for him after a particularly hurtful fight and separation…when the written word seemed safer than the spoken….at first.....

Beloved

(Carson Kearns)

Gradhach
tenant of my nights and days

I covet you

the sleek fine featured
form of you…
the warmth of you

the siren searing
sex of you…
the feel of you

the luscious lusting
line of you…
the taste of you

I covet you…

(From: Lost in the Loving : Coming Home.)

Once again, he found himself drawing on an example of just the thing Corelis was speaking of: ".. lyrics which I could imagine someone in real life actually giving to someone else whom they wanted to seduce…."

 

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Joe stood looking at the scene before him, deeply moved. He sighed, inwardly as the words of an old poem played themselves over in his musician’s soul. He’d been thrilled when he’d come across a poem called MacLeod’s Lament - little realising how often it would form the backdrop to so many of his dealings with Duncan.
(From Lost in the Loving: Coming Home.)

MacLeod’s Lament

(traditional)

"It should have been the brave dead of the Islands
That heard ring o’er their tombs your battle-cry
To shake them from their sleep again, and quicken
Peaks of Torridon and Skye!

Gone like the mist, the brave MacLeods of Raasay,
Far forth from fortune, sundered from their lands,
And now the last grey stone of Castle Raasay,
Lies desolate and levelled with the sands;
But pluck the old isle from its roots deep planted
Where tides cry coronach round the Hebrides,
And it will bleed of the MacLeods lamented,
their loves and memories!"

 

Go to Poems #2


2 December 2001
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Copyright © Carson Kearns 2001
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