He grew delicate
roots inside me,
brittle as glass.

by Amanda Gilmour

Click here to bring nature inside during lockdown


Fractured quartzite-rocks
graze Achriesgill's grey edges
with scattered pieces
that I wrap in my lace scarf,
keeping the hill close.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour


At Oldshoremore, the
aurora borealis
waltzes over stars
while I collect broken shells
bathed in rose-gold glow.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour


As I burn your soul
onto paper, a butterfly
lands on my pen.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour

Click here to bring the outside inside


Dawn's ghostly whisper,
dappled with rose-gold hues, seeps
into inky skies.

by Amanda Gilmour


In the gloaming sky,
pink hues seep from sundown, while
amber-tinged clouds bloom.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour


A sprinkle of stars
burn into nightfall, veiling
the moon's penumbra.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour


His ashes dust hills,
feeding wildflowers, waltzing
with wild winter wind.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour


In between shadows,
moonlight illuminates cats
fighting on spring grass.

by Amanda~Louise Gilmour


Petal filigrees
press stencil 
patterns on snow,
echoing full bloom.

by Amanda-Louise Gilmour


Atlantic waves slice
the sun in half, a semi-
circle melting.

by Amanda Gilmour

Amber Moon

Amber Moon

Above the city,
light polluted night leaks
amber into the moon.

by Amanda-Louise Gilmour


Oriental lily
stains the wings
of a white butterfly,


Stars fall over
the pass of
smudged grey as always,
barren, desolate ‒
a world dropped dead
into Dante’s Ninth.
By the old railway,
I cradle your urn,
twisting the lid,
scattering ashes that
return on a
wet wind wave,
blinding me.
As your particles
speckle the
yawning hills,
my soul blinks
behind gritted lids.

Amanda-Louise Gilmour

Mill burn

Beneath susurrus snowflakes
by lilting Mill burn,
his going spawned silk rivulets
glissading over wrist bone;
echoing in pearly scars
over crimson flowing vein,
a gossamer reminder
of his whispered nasal hymn.
Narnia embellished summer
dresses hidden silvered skin,
beneath susurrus snowflakes
by lilting Mill burn.

Amanda-Louise Gilmour

A Black Isle Sunrise

Catherine Faulkner

The almost-morning, almost-dawn

Brushing blue cold from dark,

Staring out the wilder, furious stars,

Stalking night with gull-shrill cries.

At Munlochy Bay the wolfish grey

Grows steady silver, steady bright

Snapping teeth in jealous bid against

The clipped perfection of the moon.

By Kessock Bridge the blush of day

Runs sleek against the timid pink,

Runs deep with tinted, fierce intent,

To keep new dreams from breakingFrom breaking on the fractured light

View original post


In the blossom tree
a crystal-spun web is
ignited by sunrise.


Stars shine at twilight.
Confetti sprinkled sky
echoes in my eyes.


Snowdrops bud nightly
peeking from the dirt,
in yawning clusters.