The Poet's Job Undone - part 13th

The poet’s role -
It is to know the virtue and ideals
Which make man
When practiced with honour
Conviction, justice, honesty and fairness
Among our fellow creature:
To pull the nettle and the thorn;
To roll the stone forever
To clean, to burn, to forge, to cut
Through rivers of eternal tears
And rebuild truth at home within the heart
Intuitive, forbidden
Yet, it is a chant of balming words
In entertainment, soft and low
Of lofty, eerie watching from the heights
Unscaled by droning workers of the street
And, as the eyes of those who grind
To illuminate and erase the shadows
Darkening the souls, in office, factory
Or ill forsaken love

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poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale

Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

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poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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