The Pictish Heather

• The Pictish Heather

 

 

In the Highlands of Scotland,

where the fields of heather grow.

 

You will find a people,

hunted and put to the sword.

 

Like the fields of heather,

their bodies are painted blue,

and hide the secret of its sweet nectar,

no others will ever know.

 

 Made is the ale and the mead,

from the Heather flowers that grow.

 

Let none other than the Picts,

cast their eyes upon the blue,

nor taste the sweet nectar,

passed down from father to son.

 

Mother and daughter,

pick the flowers and dot their hair,

in heavenly blue.

 

Many have sought the secret of heather,

and made the blue fields of Heather,

run red with the blood of Picts.

 

Upon the cliffs between the king and the roaring shores below,

a father and son gave their lives,  

to protect a secret,

that to this day non will ever know.

 

You may find others that claim to know,

the secrets of Heather’s flower today,

but in my heart I know that secret died with father and son,

atop the cliffs,

upon that fateful day.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Need some photos to make these words come alive. I enjoyed the poem. A bit of history and description of beautiful places and people. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[ron]

Thank you Coyote.
Not sure of what pictures I could put in, or even how to put them in.

[Coyote Poetry]

Always photos and artwork to make beautiful places and thoughts to come alive. And you are welcome.

[ron]

Thank you I will try.