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Sgeir Mhor, by Britta Benson

This poem got published by the BlueHouse Journal today. I leave a link below. It is a complete rewrite of a piece I started last summer, while staying on the Isle of Skye, a place that has inspired much of my writing in the past and will undoubtedly do so in the future. Sgeir MhorContinue reading “Sgeir Mhor, by Britta Benson”

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Sitting on a shingle beach, by Britta Benson

You’d think I’d written enough poems about sitting on a shingle beach by now. Apparently, I haven’t. I can’t really explain why, but the black shingle beaches on the Isle of Skye have done things to my soul I will be eternally grateful for. By the way, there are lovely white sandy beaches on SkyeContinue reading “Sitting on a shingle beach, by Britta Benson”

Joy, by Britta Benson

Just as I am getting ready to leave and take the bus home, I am writing a poem, that sums up my time spent on the Isle of Skye. A thank you poem. Joy I wander where wi-fi is not and signal bars fade into endless horizons. When no one can reach me blossoms inContinue reading “Joy, by Britta Benson”

The War Memorial, by Britta Benson

I was waiting for a bus in Somerled Square, Portree. And then, I witnessed a small gesture, that sent shivers down my spine. I was not sure about whether to put this poem up, but I feel I have to. Watching a young woman stand in front of the war memorial in Portree today sparkedContinue reading “The War Memorial, by Britta Benson”

The Shingle Beach in Staffin, by Britta Benson

Most people, when they visit Staffin, go to the slipway where you can see the footprints of a family of dinosaurs at low tide. It’s a great spot. I prefer the other beach in Staffin, a little further to the north, marked only by a tiny wooden sign and then requiring another walk to getContinue reading “The Shingle Beach in Staffin, by Britta Benson”

Listening in, by Britta Benson

My favourite spot in Portree is the bench at the top end of the Meall, with a view over the bay. I spend quite a bit of time up there in poetical bliss, the mothership of inspiration, a beautiful place so close to the village and yet so far away from everything that is notContinue reading “Listening in, by Britta Benson”

Water Falls, by Britta Benson

I took the path to the Fairy Pools today, at the foot of the Black Cuillins. Always a magical experience. I feel a lot happier and lighter now. A lot wetter too. My toes are slowly starting to recover from the cold water. Brilliant, brilliant day. Just what I needed. Water Falls The morning mistContinue reading “Water Falls, by Britta Benson”