Reflection Poem.

Reflection Poem.
Dad studying
Dad studying

So, I was working on my page today for the students, and of course, my mind is running amok with other ideas while I manipulate code and try to create what I need. WordPress doesn’t really give great help for what I wanted, so it took awhile.

Now my mind focuses on the upcoming week of new classes. But let me backtrack a bit and explain. I am in Scotland with Wisconsin in Scotland Program this fall, and we teach on a modular system. I have fourteen days to squeeze and cram sixteen weeks of information. Not an easy task by a long shot. It can, and is overwhelming.

My first class is a 100 level course, jam-packed with a host of information. I will have to focus on the most influential concepts while expecting the students to be highly reflective and rigorous with the info. So, I contemplated how to explain reflection best. I thought a poem. It’s a brainstorm in five minutes, thinking about being in a coffee shop and focusing on the process. Apologies.

I sit and think, understand
Watch and observe
Listen and hear, more than words
I dip and dabble, postulate
Wondering the connections
The pathways explored
Past, present and yet, to be
I soar on ambiguity
Coast on reality
Dribble without syntax or grammar
Various viewpoints, arguments, my own
I write gaining speed, opening doors
Organize and snip apart
Rebuild, reconstruct
New, even old
Gaining ground and more
And questions
Always questions
Left in my wake, before me
Tangents and diversions
Yes, even frustrations
And extrapolations
Inward, outward
Lost on the Journey.

That’s five minutes.

Poem: Call me, call me home Caledonia

Kilchurn Castle
Kilchurn Castle, @VisitScotland

Call me, call me home Caledonia

Call me, call me home
Back to the green blankets
That marks your glens
And shoulders your Lochs
The landscape that arouses my spirit
Now and for eternity
And remains in my mind

Runrig - Malcolm Jones
Runrig – Malcolm Jones

Sing me a lullaby
A sweet Gaelic song
‘Aig Cridhe ar Ciúil’
The music of your heart
To sooth my restless soul
And quiet the ache of my
Longing spirit

Break in the Cloud
Break in the Cloud






Love me as no other
Embrace me in your
Braw arms
Kiss me
Press a cup of your sweet
Water to my parched lips
And quench this wanting
Cradle me against your breast
Quiet my fears

Clashnessie Waterfall in Autumn
Clashnessie Waterfall in Autumn



Call me, call me home
Back to your forest greens
Moors of russet bracken
Bright yellow gorse
And purple heather
Let me smell the perfume
Of fresh tilled ground
The musk of mother Earth

Assynt 15th December 2011
Assynt 15th December 2011

Let me hear the whispers
Of the meadows
Where the wind talks
And spirits seem to play
Let me feel the pulse of your heart
©Scottish Poems I

Well, I’m compiling my next book of poetry to be published by Christmas. I thought I’d give you a few snippets over the next couple of weeks. Enjoy

Poem: And I felt…

Pan of Stonehaven
Sunset over Stonehaven, Scotland

And I felt...
And in the pale light of morning, I outstretched my arms
There was more than a whispered thought of life
There was a rumbling in the ache that had made me weep
For the weeks that held me prisoner
As if my voice had been stilled, my breath captive
And as the heat of the day took hold, seeping
Under my very skin, touching my soul
I dropped all defenses and screamed
Letting my spirit peel off into the ethereal realm
Laughing, laughing, laughing
I was free

©A Moment, A Breath, A Beat in Time, Betsy A. Pudliner, 2011

Poem: Home

Sun on the grass
Sun on the grass

I gave you a quote earlier from a poem I wrote back in 1987.  Thought I post the whole thing.  This is copyrighted, published in 1993.

These emerald walls that tower above
And kiss an azure sky
I remember
They are my home

On the ferry
One the ferry to Isle of Lewis

Now I am just a passer-by
With conflicting emotions of continued
In torment do I always linger and delay
In leaving
My most favored hills

Conemaugh Gap, Johnstown, PA
Conemaugh Gap, Johnstown, PA

Under the lush canopies
That crowns my beloved path
I find my way home
To the places of my present
And my past

Glencoe Pass Pan
Pan of Glencoe Pass, Highlands of Scotland
Air Travel, Pittsburgh, PA
Flying home to Pennsylvania

Just as I have found my way
I leave my soul behind
Forever to haunt and play
Knowing that already my heart
Is buried deep beneath this clay

Sligachan Glen
Sligachan Glen, Isle of Skye

Whichever path I find
That may lead me back this way
To the home that will and always be
The one in which I wish to stay

©Home, 1993

Friday…We’re havin a heat wave….

Kelpie Pool
Kelpie pool
Originally uploaded by bruiach1

It’s Friday, just another day of just another week in this heat. The grass is nothing but crunchy brown and the leaves are drooping, begging for water. Several of the small streams are dry and the small lakes are covered with algae; the water not inviting at all. And it stinks, and propagating enough mosquitoes to annoy us well into autumn.

I am glad I am not in city at this time. The heat bouncing off the buildings and clinging to the pavement; a steel desert of unbearable heat.

I long for that magical, cool pool of water to bathe my feet and refresh my mind. For now it is the oscillating fan on the floor, circulating the air in the office as I try to type up notes from a journal article. A few more hours and then I can turn back to some fun and the fantasy in my mind. Enjoy the poem….from my book of poetry, A moment, A breath, a beat in time

After the city lights
The crash and grind
Shattering nerves, crushing skin
Wanting to drive past the noise
Breaking out of the bitter vacuum
To the open wilderness
Into the sound of silence
That sharp bite of green
The calm of subtle light
Strip away the unwelcome shroud
Reveal the bare ass, naked
To feel alive
And breathe before I drown
Or driven mad
And into the calm, I drift



Working on second book of poetry….

Tarbat Ness
An old croft

I have not heard your voice
Now, quiet and silent
Time orchestrates the skies, moving
The clouds changing
The breath of wind occupied
I have not heard the music, lost
Broken spindles of old tunes
Missed terribly
I have not smelled your life, the turn of earth
That marked my home
A subtle softness, depth
That cleared the conflict of my soul
I have not felt alive, passion
A hollow perception, my self
Stopped with no means of movement
North, south, east or west
Stopped at the edge, on the stone