Poets and writers

"The land of the bens, the glens and the heroes"

Poets and writers have been inspired by the unsurpassed beauty of Loch Lomond and the Trossachs.

Scott, Coleridge and Wordsworth to name but a few.

If you have a favourite poem, or even better, have been inspired yourself, why not send your entry for inclusion. to info@visit-lochlomond.com

When Visiting Scotland

When visiting Scotland at Loch Lomond side
This beautiful area is the place to reside
With walks that can't be surpassed or stunning views
Seeing God's beauty all around can only be good news

Take a stroll or a boat sail, hire a horse, go for a ride
Snap some photos of the wild birds that gently glide
There is something for all ages to be found by the loch
Even if it's just watching the animals feed at the trough

This area attracts lovely people who keep coming back
For scenery and accommodation, there is nothing it will lack
If you have doubts, come and see it yourself some fine day
Nothing in this world you'll find can then pull you away

by James Shand Barker
E-mail: jimbarker@talk21.com

Sounds of Silence

Can you hear the moon shining over Loch Lomond ?
Can you hear the salmon jumping up the waterfall?
Can you hear the rocks drowning under the water?
Can you hear the water snake slithering up behind you?

No these are the sounds of silence.

by Blair Age 11

A Loch For All Seasons

Spring
A haze of bluebells lines the curve of the brae
On lush green pasture, blackfaced lambs are at play
warmed by soft sunshine. Green shoots start to unfold
on hills now daubed by a drifting brush of gold.
The first cuckoo signals springtime to the bens
and primroses open faces in deep glens
A buzzard rests on a fencepost for a while,
surveying his scene. Three wild goats, single-file,
pick their way along a narrow rocky pass
Two hares box at each other in the long grass

Summer
The loch dazzles in a diamond tiara
On warm white sand the red-billed oystercatcher
dances to its own name A herd of roe deer
comes down to a rockpool to drink from the clear
cool water, fawns hiding by their does, shy
Far, far above them in a cobalt blue sky
Soar two golden eagles, just tiny black motes
to the naked eye. Too hot in shaggy coats
laze Highland cows in a daisy-filled meadow,
gazing at life through a sweet summer window

Autumn
The hills wear purple cloak of heather
Early morning mist phantoms dance together
Spires of red, yellow, copper and golden brown
Are mirrored in the gunmetal water, deep down
A Skein of pinkfeet geese, in V-formation
has flown non-stop to this balmier location
Whooper swans skim in low over the birch trees,
trumpeting their entrance to the autumn breeze
In still waters, trout and salmon are spawning
In dark grey corries, red deer stags are roaring

Winter
A lone pheasant, scarlet and green shimmering
in the lustre of snow tinged ink by scudding
crimson-edged clouds, wends his way like a drunken
reveller beneath tall Scots pines and rowan
trees full with berries. By the shore, snow bunting
cheerily search for food. On the bank, hunting
stealthily, brush stark against white, a red fox
slinks through juniper bushes and black rocks
A heron, plumage like silk, stands sentinel
to a winter landscape, vibrant, beautiful

by Mary Stewart Young, Balfron v