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16 October 2014

THE MIDGE - March 2009


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QUEEN OF THE INCH

QUEEN OF THE INCH
QUEEN OF THE INCH

A bronze Age cairn was discovered at Northpark and held the remains of what became known as "The Queen of the Inch", a 3500 year old woman decorated in a jet bead necklace and with a dagger. After the 3500 year old skeleton was carbondated it was returned to it's original tomb on Inchmarnock with a glass panel fitted to allow it to be seen.She was removed again for more study but is due to be returned soon we hope, after all she was a true Queen.
This short poem started out as a song but never got there so here it is in poem form.



A cist on Inchmarnock Isle
You lay three thousand years and more
To the east of you the Isle Of Bute
To the west the Kintyre shore

We know not much about you
We wish we knew more
Were you born on Mernocks Isle?
Or by another shore

Your time was early Bronze Age
What was your life like?
What family were you born to?
When your mother gave you life?

Where did you live when you were growing?
Where did you live your life?
Did you travel East or West?
Or even North or South

Did you marry a handsome man?
Or did a warrior take your hand
Did you settle in this place?
Or look to another land

Your cist with bones told us things
But none more so
Than that of your jet necklace
Lying on your cists floor

Of Whitby jet it was made
A treasure it was to you
Made from other necklaces
Much older than you

A mystery you have left for us
From the days of word of mouth
What connections did you have?
With traders from the south

The clues we have are so few
The Kingdom of Wessex we link you to
And further south did you go
To Brittany we will never know

You took your life of secrets with you
When buried long ago
For years you did rest in peace
Until we yearned to know

We hope someday you will rest again
And rest forever more
Upon your lovely island
In your cist near its shore

Rest again Queen of the Inch
Rest forever more
Your time again should be yours
Rest forever more.

Posted on THE MIDGE at 20:12



THE STANDING STONE



The Standing Stone

The standing stone on moor alone
For many a thousand years
Its importance once to whom
Still it is not clear.

Yes stone alone I talk to you
Your weather beaten column
Tell me your secrets of centuries past
Your purpose here on mother earth

Why were you selected form far away?
And erected where you stand today
Were you always on your own?
Or in the past stood other stones.

What did they chant when you stood erect?
What did they kill with knive to neck?
A sacrifice from them to you
Or merely an offering each Solstice new

You have outlasted forests great
Kings of men and heads of state
Many a bird has perched on you
The Hawk and Owl, Nightjar too.

Moor land and woodland they have changed
As man of the land has reclaimed
But worked around and left you tall
When superstitions on ears would fall

For with-in your stone once compounds clashed
And captured the birth of mother earth.
With powers form the cosmos of atoms old
Men have harvested and broke the mould

And unleash the power of nuclear war
To destruct this earth where we all fall
At the end of our days in this place
A headstone of the human race

And still on moor alone you stand
Outlasting more than mortal man
Who lie beneath stone and earth?
What is our purpose here on earth?



Posted on THE MIDGE at 20:39





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