Culloden Still.......

[tectak]

Culloden Still
Roots under moss , tight-tangled and tousled, fixed and firm in the lock of time’s door,
Sip [1*]soft from the dark sky, where dapper fat grouse, buckshot laden, now cartwheel
Then crash to the lowland, a’wheezing and steaming. They die like Highlanders,
With feathers of tartan, [*2] dirk-spurred and death-cry, proud breasts cease a’rising.
Proud breasts cease a’rising.

Clod of soiled heath, brown-juiced (the life giver), tainted (or favoured) by hints of past dead,
Runs staining through fingers as French blood to wine. Scotch blood to spirit, a miracle making,
By the still of Culloden: pressed hard on the heather, blood-warmed and flattened, they fell in their time.
Fell for a freedom, fell for fiefdom, fell for a future; they lay in red lines.
Lay in red lines.

Black stratification of carbon-rich infill; here was their last fire, here their last day.
Indelible link, liquor left of the blood pool, is the essence of many who namelessly stay;
Their bodies diluted by a thousand divisions, each fraction weaker, though wider and yet
By homeopathic traces of presence, they will never be memories lost in time’s mist.
Lost in time’s mist.

Clay for a grave-depth, broadsword buried, red-rust adherent to hand-clasp of steel.
Salt-sweat speeds decay; a perverse oxidation, encrusting on agate and jasper and bronze.
Signs of a Clan Chief, his rank and his standing, prowess and pride now devoured by rain.
His gold rings remain where, sword thrust, his hand formed a cast-in depression; hoisting from death.
Hoisting from death.

Deep and yet deeper, seeping down slowly; centuries passing- no changes- but see
The strained line of time carries traits of the fallen. Jacobite matter, nuclear bonded,
Echoes familial features of men. These once were the fathers but are again children;
Their cells strange dividing, diminished in number, engrained in granite and fixed in their youth.
Fixed in their youth.

Dark in the rocks in silent procession, minerals leach into thinning cleaved lines.
In fractures and fissures where gravity struggles, the tight-bonded atoms find levels yet lower,
Where pooled genes are cupped. Cold Night sleeps in the caverns; but the dead wake the living.
With clear water brimming and life in solution, the [*3] Well of the Dead will drain gently away.
Drain gently away.

One hour of battle, one hour of triumph, two thousand layered on Culloden’s field.
Barrell’s 4th Foot, Dejean’s 37th, thirty-one more in the blend of that day.
Frenchies and Campbells, Macdonalds, Maclachlans; all gave their all and may be giving still.
The liquor runs on; now gold, now amber, now tan, now straw and in all are they.
In all are they.

Proud breasts cease a’rising,
They lay in red lines.
Never lost in time’s mist
They are hoisting from death;
And fixed in their youth
Will drain gently away,
For in all are they.
In all are they.

TAK 2010





*1 “soft” is of gaelic origin indicating misty wet weather and its use is derived from the word “bog” meaning “soft and wet”. Use now mostly confined to Ireland.
*2 A “dirk” is the highlander’s dagger, often portrayed as being held in the overturn of the hose though strictly speaking this is a “sgian dubh”. The “dirk” was attached to the middle waist of the kilt. The “spur” of the grouse is the protruding claw above the foot, used both offensively and defensively.
*3 “Well of the Dead”. A stone marks the Well of the Dead and the place where Alexander MacGillivray of Clan Chattan fell. The fighting was so fierce at this place that the living had to climb over the dead to get to the enemy.

[abu nuwas]

I like the long lines, but am metrically-challenged. I di not think the last lines worthy of what had gone before, but perhaps a re-read would cure that.

RE 'soft'. we still speak of 'the going being soft', tho' I do not know whether the expression extends beyond these Isles: I think it would be readily understood in the Gulf states!

[tectak]

I like the long lines, but am metrically-challenged. I di not think the last lines worthy of what had gone before, but perhaps a re-read would cure that.

RE 'soft'. we still speak of 'the going being soft', tho' I do not know whether the expression extends beyond these Isles: I think it would be readily understood in the Gulf states!

I think you have gone to the nub of it, Abu.
This dirge is the remnant of an emotional high, one day on Culloden battlefield, followed by an evening writing whilst drinking Culloden malt! The last lines reflect the end-of-verse "ponder" during which time I should, perhaps, have allowed my ego to deflate until sobriety took over from lofty delusions of grandeur!
Though I like this piece, I am hoping to get a good cathartic mauling from the critics.
Having said that the National Trust for Scotland have accepted it into the archives (total interminable obscurity) in its present form.
Oh, and as an aside, modern Dubliners still say the weather has gone "soft", meaning rain.
Best,
Tectak

[Philatone]

hello tec
some quick thoughts that I hope can be of use

Culloden Still
Roots under moss , tight-tangled and tousled, fixed and firm in the lock of time’s door,...just starting, but already the word choice/ tone feels very consistent. like "lock of time's door", it's a dramatic touch but effective for your goal
Sip [1*]soft from the dark sky, where dapper fat grouse, buckshot laden, now cartwheel
Then crash to the lowland, a’wheezing and steaming. They die like Highlanders,..I know it's intentional, but the "a" of "a'wheezing" distracted me. if there's no way around its use, I understand
With feathers of tartan, [*2] dirk-spurred and death-cry, proud breasts cease a’rising.
Proud breasts cease a’rising.

Clod of soiled heath, brown-juiced (the life giver), tainted (or favoured) by hints of past dead, ...I begin getting a little lost in this line. i'm seeing a reference to blood, but could certainly be wrong
Runs staining through fingers as French blood to wine...so the "clod of...heath" does the action here? if the first line is talking about blood, I feel like I would prefer another image than "French blood to wine" because that is a lot of it in a concentrated area; it would almost be comparing blood to blood. again, could be mistaken here
Scotch blood to spirit, a miracle making,
By the still of Culloden: pressed hard on the heather, blood-warmed and flattened, they fell in their time.
Fell for a freedom, fell for fiefdom, fell for a future; they lay in red lines.
Lay in red lines....like the last two lines to close the stanza

Black stratification of carbon-rich infill; here was their last fire, here their last day....the opening half ("black...infill" felt out of place to me; seems overly technical in a piece that seems more intent on phrases like "lock of time's door" and "brown-juiced" and "tainted"
Indelible link, liquor left of the blood pool, is the essence of many who namelessly stay;
Their bodies diluted by a thousand divisions, each fraction weaker, though wider and yet
By homeopathic traces of presence, they will never be memories lost in time’s mist.
Lost in time’s mist. ...just to reiterate, the only real critique I have may be of little value to you, as I'm sure your choices are precise and exact: I just found the word choice slightly inconsistent with the tone and style of the piece as a whole. of course, it's probably something that just applies to me

Clay for a grave-depth, broadsword buried, red-rust adherent to hand-clasp of steel....interesting phrasing
Salt-sweat speeds decay; a perverse oxidation, encrusting on agate and jasper and bronze. ..enjoyed the details on the kinds of elements used
Signs of a Clan Chief, his rank and his standing, prowess and pride now devoured by rain....debated about that "now" and how necessary it is
His gold rings remain where, sword thrust, his hand formed a cast-in depression; hoisting from death....I was drawn to your use of the -ing rather than the -ed form for "hoist".
Hoisting from death.

Deep and yet deeper, seeping down slowly; centuries passing- no changes- but see ...the phrasing I think could be tightened in the second half of the line (centuries...see); maybe there's just too much that needs to be described too quickly, as it seemed a little clunky to me
The strained line of time carries traits of the fallen. Jacobite matter, nuclear bonded,
Echoes familial features of men. These once were the fathers but are again children;
Their cells strange dividing, diminished in number, engrained in granite and fixed in their youth.
Fixed in their youth.

Dark in the rocks in silent procession, minerals leach into thinning cleaved lines.
In fractures and fissures where gravity struggles, the tight-bonded atoms find levels yet lower,
Where pooled genes are cupped. Cold Night sleeps in the caverns; but the dead wake the living.
With clear water brimming and life in solution, the [*3] Well of the Dead will drain gently away.
Drain gently away.
...I'm sure you or someone else can offer a defense, but right now this stanza stands out to me as unnecessary to the piece; I'm just not sure what it contribtues. yeah, it offers a chance to make a connection with the Well, but it didn't feel strong enough to me as whole, and when I removed it, the poem didn't seem to lose a whole lot, besides that refrain. perhaps it could be moved to somewhere closer to the stanzas involving the conflict; it felt to me that you were breaking away from the field to talking about families and such, only to return there again with this stanza; yet, even the next stanza has more of a connection to lineage, what with its references to names

One hour of battle, one hour of triumph, two thousand layered on Culloden’s field.
Barrell’s 4th Foot, Dejean’s 37th, thirty-one more in the blend of that day.
Frenchies and Campbells, Macdonalds, Maclachlans; all gave their all and may be giving still.
The liquor runs on; now gold, now amber, now tan, now straw and in all are they.
In all are they.

Proud breasts cease a’rising,
They lay in red lines.
Never lost in time’s mist
They are hoisting from death;
And fixed in their youth
Will drain gently away,
For in all are they.
In all are they.

TAK 2010





*1 “soft” is of gaelic origin indicating misty wet weather and its use is derived from the word “bog” meaning “soft and wet”. Use now mostly confined to Ireland.
*2 A “dirk” is the highlander’s dagger, often portrayed as being held in the overturn of the hose though strictly speaking this is a “sgian dubh”. The “dirk” was attached to the middle waist of the kilt. The “spur” of the grouse is the protruding claw above the foot, used both offensively and defensively.
*3 “Well of the Dead”. A stone marks the Well of the Dead and the place where Alexander MacGillivray of Clan Chattan fell. The fighting was so fierce at this place that the living had to climb over the dead to get to the enemy.

liked the cyclical nature of genes captured in the closing stanzas. it's an interesting piece that I think you had a lot of success with; I hope some of my suggestions make sense and have merit to them

[tectak]

hello tec
some quick thoughts that I hope can be of use

Culloden Still
Roots under moss , tight-tangled and tousled, fixed and firm in the lock of time’s door,...just starting, but already the word choice/ tone feels very consistent. like "lock of time's door", it's a dramatic touch but effective for your goal
Sip [1*]soft from the dark sky, where dapper fat grouse, buckshot laden, now cartwheel
Then crash to the lowland, a’wheezing and steaming. They die like Highlanders,..I know it's intentional, but the "a" of "a'wheezing" distracted me. if there's no way around its use, I understand
With feathers of tartan, [*2] dirk-spurred and death-cry, proud breasts cease a’rising.
Proud breasts cease a’rising.

Clod of soiled heath, brown-juiced (the life giver), tainted (or favoured) by hints of past dead, ...I begin getting a little lost in this line. i'm seeing a reference to blood, but could certainly be wrong
Runs staining through fingers as French blood to wine...so the "clod of...heath" does the action here? if the first line is talking about blood, I feel like I would prefer another image than "French blood to wine" because that is a lot of it in a concentrated area; it would almost be comparing blood to blood. again, could be mistaken here
Scotch blood to spirit, a miracle making,
By the still of Culloden: pressed hard on the heather, blood-warmed and flattened, they fell in their time.
Fell for a freedom, fell for fiefdom, fell for a future; they lay in red lines.
Lay in red lines....like the last two lines to close the stanza

Black stratification of carbon-rich infill; here was their last fire, here their last day....the opening half ("black...infill" felt out of place to me; seems overly technical in a piece that seems more intent on phrases like "lock of time's door" and "brown-juiced" and "tainted"
Indelible link, liquor left of the blood pool, is the essence of many who namelessly stay;
Their bodies diluted by a thousand divisions, each fraction weaker, though wider and yet
By homeopathic traces of presence, they will never be memories lost in time’s mist.
Lost in time’s mist. ...just to reiterate, the only real critique I have may be of little value to you, as I'm sure your choices are precise and exact: I just found the word choice slightly inconsistent with the tone and style of the piece as a whole. of course, it's probably something that just applies to me

Clay for a grave-depth, broadsword buried, red-rust adherent to hand-clasp of steel....interesting phrasing
Salt-sweat speeds decay; a perverse oxidation, encrusting on agate and jasper and bronze. ..enjoyed the details on the kinds of elements used
Signs of a Clan Chief, his rank and his standing, prowess and pride now devoured by rain....debated about that "now" and how necessary it is
His gold rings remain where, sword thrust, his hand formed a cast-in depression; hoisting from death....I was drawn to your use of the -ing rather than the -ed form for "hoist".
Hoisting from death.

Deep and yet deeper, seeping down slowly; centuries passing- no changes- but see ...the phrasing I think could be tightened in the second half of the line (centuries...see); maybe there's just too much that needs to be described too quickly, as it seemed a little clunky to me
The strained line of time carries traits of the fallen. Jacobite matter, nuclear bonded,
Echoes familial features of men. These once were the fathers but are again children;
Their cells strange dividing, diminished in number, engrained in granite and fixed in their youth.
Fixed in their youth.

Dark in the rocks in silent procession, minerals leach into thinning cleaved lines.
In fractures and fissures where gravity struggles, the tight-bonded atoms find levels yet lower,
Where pooled genes are cupped. Cold Night sleeps in the caverns; but the dead wake the living.
With clear water brimming and life in solution, the [*3] Well of the Dead will drain gently away.
Drain gently away.
...I'm sure you or someone else can offer a defense, but right now this stanza stands out to me as unnecessary to the piece; I'm just not sure what it contribtues. yeah, it offers a chance to make a connection with the Well, but it didn't feel strong enough to me as whole, and when I removed it, the poem didn't seem to lose a whole lot, besides that refrain. perhaps it could be moved to somewhere closer to the stanzas involving the conflict; it felt to me that you were breaking away from the field to talking about families and such, only to return there again with this stanza; yet, even the next stanza has more of a connection to lineage, what with its references to names

One hour of battle, one hour of triumph, two thousand layered on Culloden’s field.
Barrell’s 4th Foot, Dejean’s 37th, thirty-one more in the blend of that day.
Frenchies and Campbells, Macdonalds, Maclachlans; all gave their all and may be giving still.
The liquor runs on; now gold, now amber, now tan, now straw and in all are they.
In all are they.

Proud breasts cease a’rising,
They lay in red lines.
Never lost in time’s mist
They are hoisting from death;
And fixed in their youth
Will drain gently away,
For in all are they.
In all are they.

TAK 2010





*1 “soft” is of gaelic origin indicating misty wet weather and its use is derived from the word “bog” meaning “soft and wet”. Use now mostly confined to Ireland.
*2 A “dirk” is the highlander’s dagger, often portrayed as being held in the overturn of the hose though strictly speaking this is a “sgian dubh”. The “dirk” was attached to the middle waist of the kilt. The “spur” of the grouse is the protruding claw above the foot, used both offensively and defensively.
*3 “Well of the Dead”. A stone marks the Well of the Dead and the place where Alexander MacGillivray of Clan Chattan fell. The fighting was so fierce at this place that the living had to climb over the dead to get to the enemy.

liked the cyclical nature of genes captured in the closing stanzas. it's an interesting piece that I think you had a lot of success with; I hope some of my suggestions make sense and have merit to them

---

hello tec
some quick thoughts that I hope can be of use

Culloden Still
Roots under moss , tight-tangled and tousled, fixed and firm in the lock of time’s door,...just starting, but already the word choice/ tone feels very consistent. like "lock of time's door", it's a dramatic touch but effective for your goal
Sip [1*]soft from the dark sky, where dapper fat grouse, buckshot laden, now cartwheel
Then crash to the lowland, a’wheezing and steaming. They die like Highlanders,..I know it's intentional, but the "a" of "a'wheezing" distracted me. if there's no way around its use, I understand
With feathers of tartan, [*2] dirk-spurred and death-cry, proud breasts cease a’rising.
Proud breasts cease a’rising.

Clod of soiled heath, brown-juiced (the life giver), tainted (or favoured) by hints of past dead, ...I begin getting a little lost in this line. i'm seeing a reference to blood, but could certainly be wrong
Runs staining through fingers as French blood to wine...so the "clod of...heath" does the action here? if the first line is talking about blood, I feel like I would prefer another image than "French blood to wine" because that is a lot of it in a concentrated area; it would almost be comparing blood to blood. again, could be mistaken here
Scotch blood to spirit, a miracle making,
By the still of Culloden: pressed hard on the heather, blood-warmed and flattened, they fell in their time.
Fell for a freedom, fell for fiefdom, fell for a future; they lay in red lines.
Lay in red lines....like the last two lines to close the stanza

Black stratification of carbon-rich infill; here was their last fire, here their last day....the opening half ("black...infill" felt out of place to me; seems overly technical in a piece that seems more intent on phrases like "lock of time's door" and "brown-juiced" and "tainted"
Indelible link, liquor left of the blood pool, is the essence of many who namelessly stay;
Their bodies diluted by a thousand divisions, each fraction weaker, though wider and yet
By homeopathic traces of presence, they will never be memories lost in time’s mist.
Lost in time’s mist. ...just to reiterate, the only real critique I have may be of little value to you, as I'm sure your choices are precise and exact: I just found the word choice slightly inconsistent with the tone and style of the piece as a whole. of course, it's probably something that just applies to me

Clay for a grave-depth, broadsword buried, red-rust adherent to hand-clasp of steel....interesting phrasing
Salt-sweat speeds decay; a perverse oxidation, encrusting on agate and jasper and bronze. ..enjoyed the details on the kinds of elements used
Signs of a Clan Chief, his rank and his standing, prowess and pride now devoured by rain....debated about that "now" and how necessary it is
His gold rings remain where, sword thrust, his hand formed a cast-in depression; hoisting from death....I was drawn to your use of the -ing rather than the -ed form for "hoist".
Hoisting from death.

Deep and yet deeper, seeping down slowly; centuries passing- no changes- but see ...the phrasing I think could be tightened in the second half of the line (centuries...see); maybe there's just too much that needs to be described too quickly, as it seemed a little clunky to me
The strained line of time carries traits of the fallen. Jacobite matter, nuclear bonded,
Echoes familial features of men. These once were the fathers but are again children;
Their cells strange dividing, diminished in number, engrained in granite and fixed in their youth.
Fixed in their youth.

Dark in the rocks in silent procession, minerals leach into thinning cleaved lines.
In fractures and fissures where gravity struggles, the tight-bonded atoms find levels yet lower,
Where pooled genes are cupped. Cold Night sleeps in the caverns; but the dead wake the living.
With clear water brimming and life in solution, the [*3] Well of the Dead will drain gently away.
Drain gently away.
...I'm sure you or someone else can offer a defense, but right now this stanza stands out to me as unnecessary to the piece; I'm just not sure what it contribtues. yeah, it offers a chance to make a connection with the Well, but it didn't feel strong enough to me as whole, and when I removed it, the poem didn't seem to lose a whole lot, besides that refrain. perhaps it could be moved to somewhere closer to the stanzas involving the conflict; it felt to me that you were breaking away from the field to talking about families and such, only to return there again with this stanza; yet, even the next stanza has more of a connection to lineage, what with its references to names

One hour of battle, one hour of triumph, two thousand layered on Culloden’s field.
Barrell’s 4th Foot, Dejean’s 37th, thirty-one more in the blend of that day.
Frenchies and Campbells, Macdonalds, Maclachlans; all gave their all and may be giving still.
The liquor runs on; now gold, now amber, now tan, now straw and in all are they.
In all are they.

Proud breasts cease a’rising,
They lay in red lines.
Never lost in time’s mist
They are hoisting from death;
And fixed in their youth
Will drain gently away,
For in all are they.
In all are they.

TAK 2010





*1 “soft” is of gaelic origin indicating misty wet weather and its use is derived from the word “bog” meaning “soft and wet”. Use now mostly confined to Ireland.
*2 A “dirk” is the highlander’s dagger, often portrayed as being held in the overturn of the hose though strictly speaking this is a “sgian dubh”. The “dirk” was attached to the middle waist of the kilt. The “spur” of the grouse is the protruding claw above the foot, used both offensively and defensively.
*3 “Well of the Dead”. A stone marks the Well of the Dead and the place where Alexander MacGillivray of Clan Chattan fell. The fighting was so fierce at this place that the living had to climb over the dead to get to the enemy.

liked the cyclical nature of genes captured in the closing stanzas. it's an interesting piece that I think you had a lot of success with; I hope some of my suggestions make sense and have merit to them

Hi philatone.
If there is any other way of saying this I don't know it..so, all of your suggestions are praiseworthy. Thank you.
This was a difficult write for me and I have latterly come to the conclusion that I got too close to it. I detailed when I should have been laying down a wash.
Your first note of dissent indicates that you had a good idea where this was going but I failed to show you how I was getting there. Of course, its all about whisky.
The brown juice is the peaty water,uisge beatha, the water of life. In this are traces of the dead. Is it tainted or is it favoured?The blood of the scottish dead is in the spirit, the distillate. French blood, though spilled, is not deemed part of the process as the French were fond of reporting that "blood poured like wine". Typical.
Though you didn't mention it the "still of Culloden" is a major wordplay as in whisky still/ dead/persistent.
Hoisting/ed I must keep as it is the verb image of the rising struggle to live that I am after, rather than the historical fact of deadness!
The rest of your points I cannot argue against so they are valid and will instigate change..........except for the verse you would like to omit. I have listened to a better narrator than me reading the piece. Without instruction he suddenly lowered his volume and speed to read "Dark in the rocks, in silent procession...." He was Scottish and boy, did that help!
Thank you for an insightful reading. I know I go on about clarity but that only applies to others
Best,
Tectak

[Philatone]

I actually dismissed the idea of whiskey/ alcohol and the like; while I saw its tones particularly in that stanza, I guess I wanted something else, and it is hardest to break from your personal perspectives. i will have another go at a read tonight

[Erthona]

Nothing to add on the content, has a nice feel though.

Just a quick note on formatting of footnote. Since one cannot superscript, lightening the color helps to set it apart without all the clumsiness of using asterisks.


Roots under moss , tight-tangled and tousled, fixed and firm in the lock of time’s door,
Sip1 soft from the dark sky, where dapper fat grouse, buckshot laden, now cartwheel
Then crash to the lowland, a’wheezing and steaming. They die like Highlanders,
With feathers of tartan,2 dirk-spurred and death-cry, proud breasts cease a’rising.
Proud breasts cease a’rising.