I am sometimes lost in this sandstone.
My figure was once beautiful,
My name whispered by mortal men.
Now my name is foreign to their lips.
They stumble over it
As if it were made of stone.
As I if I were some old lover from a past,
Replaced by another. Remembered
In vague memories,
But with nothing there worth dwelling on.
I hope you had a nice weekend. I certainly did, with most of the fun being on Saturday.
What happened on Saturday? I imagine you asking.
I’m so glad you asked. On Saturday, I went into Glasgow and was part of an Instagram meetup. For those of you who don’t know what instagram is, let me tell you. It is an iPhone camera app. It’s kind of like twitter with pics instead of tweets but also like facebook with the likes and comments.
If I am clever and remember, I will put a link HERE. (Unfortunately, you need to view the instagram pics through the app but check out flickr and twitter
The Event was organised by @igersscotland (aka @nannyf) other members of our merry band were; @ladrumbot @lupsv @mmosoca @r2builder @shazzerini @socobloke @socobird @t_baws and pics were tagged #scotwalk1
They all took amazing pics and unbelievably for Scotland in November, there were blue skies and sunshine….and no rain.
We met up in George Square. As it was the first time we had met, it was wise to look out for people playing with their iPhones.
Their prayers fall upon deaf ears.
There are no gods left and
Even if there were, we would not help.
I have been blind now for many years,
The smog from the city burns my eyes,
But I doubt much has changed.
They that wander below go no where.
They replaced us for another god
And now he feels our pain.
He is second to a god
That gives them their heart’s desire.
How long before he is carved
Into this sandstone,
Like a gargoyle?
We walked along George Street and up to the gardens where the maternity hospital once stood. The sun continued to shine and we went onwards, past the High Kirk of Glasgow and up to the Necropolis. There we wandered round the graves as the sun set.
My figure is scratched away
Layer by layer until I cannot feel a thing.
But hell hath no fury than
A woman scorned,
Or forgotten. So I wait
With those who hide against the sandstone,
Where human eyes glaze over us,
As we forgotten gods hold their arches
And their proud buildings tall.
Then we headed back into Glasgow, where I had to bid farewell.
Why?
I had to return to Falkirk and then onto Linlithgow so that I could hear my friend perform at an open mic event that was part of the Linlithgow Book Festival.
I enjoyed the performances of the other speakers but I really enjoyed the poem that you my have noticed in this post. The poem is called Aphrodite and my friend’s name is Karyn Dougan (@missnovocaine on twitter, next time you’re there, please tell her how amazing her poem is). Karyn also recited a short story, but that will be for another time…
