Alan McLeod

https://www.rawmaterialarts.com/stamping-ground Hoping that this can go on a world tour: because our World will be a more beautiful place if its furthest and nethermost reaches come to know the songs of Runrig.

I tripped and fell and grazed my knee. You rushed to pick me up and … … you smelt of pomegranate juice thus, ever since … … you’ve haunted me. A wave of gold in wheaten fields. Such songs unsung in pregnant seas disorientate; so alas, I seem to Be thus. Sorry, that ever since … Read more

From A Gael With No Heartland was published 25 years ago. The book was launched at the infamous Carneagie Hall concert. Thanks to Struan Eaglesham for the music, Dougie Macdonald for stage management and Craig Mackay at Pictii for the images. Thanks too to the Press and Journal for covering and promoting this first collection.

I met Her when I was walking up the face of Beinn Mhealaichand all He said was, sgaoil a’ bheag. She must have stridden around the skirts because I met Himon my way back down on the other side of Meallach. This time all She said was, a-mach a bàs. It seems there isa little … Read more

An ill wind blew you in, they sayTo you ill wind is fair and warm.How else can magpies this north flyLocust-like? You come in swarms. Do you enjoy us meallach birdies?You steal our rings and Cataibh broochesAnd you sing when first you see asThe pictishvikingcelt approaches. Much rarer and fragile breed than youMuch more busied … Read more

Well, it’s up in the morning But I dinnae hae workSo doon on my knees,“Jesus, what is my worth?”Yon pillars o’ wisdomCouped by the PlagueAn’ noo legislators say“Thou canst not play” So, I’m droving tae GolspieBearing for the BenWi a bottle o’ whisky Wrapped up in my coatIf we have a ceilidhWe’ll forever be friends … Read more

She sleeps sound, not knowing the angstThat keeps him awake with the fear and doubtOf the kind freedom fighters take into themselvesWhen the order to kill is being carried out. Kitty, dear Kitty. Soft. Gentle. Fragile feather.Are you dreaming of holidays by the white-blue Med?Do those dreams of yours stray to revolutions thatYour Man executes … Read more

After weeks of sweet serenityThe black loch is mightily agitatedBy a cold north westerly, whipping Up her frocks and throwing her pettiCoats onto the craggy virgin shore.Now there are waves not waking ripples. The autumn equinox just passedHas heralded in the onset of winterAnd sent her mad the icy madam.Scurrying for omens in the belliesOf … Read more

I used to care about my countryBut now I couldn’t care less.Our lunatics have taken over ourDemocratic asylum, yetA veneer of reason is smeared overThis irrational Scottish messThat explains itself with graphsAnd spreadsheet logiclessness.