{"id":12,"date":"2008-01-16T13:11:15","date_gmt":"2008-01-16T18:11:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/?page_id=12"},"modified":"2008-03-17T08:42:24","modified_gmt":"2008-03-17T13:42:24","slug":"poetry","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/?page_id=12","title":{"rendered":"Poetry"},"content":{"rendered":"

I wrote the poem Ingle Ken’lt<\/em><\/strong>, which translates into Hearth Rekindled<\/em><\/strong>, to salute those Highland Scots who settled in Upper Canada during the infamous Scottish Clearances. Ingle Ken’lt<\/em><\/strong> refers to the very old tradition of symbolically lighting the hearth in a new home, a custom which was kept alive by some of the immigrant settlers into the late 1800’s.<\/p>\n

The custom was quite poignant and a true Celtic house-warming. At an appropriate time, after a settler’s cabin had been erected and the occupants were ready to move in, neighbours and friends would arrive from the four corners of the compass with both hot coals to light the first fire on the hearth, and food to celebrate the occasion. Of course, whiskey\/cawther always played a role in such an event.<\/p>\n

Today, many individuals ask if they can use the poem at their own new-house- warming. Of course, my answer is always yes. They are asked to mention who penned the poem. I am in favour of reviving old customs.<\/p>\n

The poem Ingle Ken’lt<\/em><\/strong> was included in my fifth work of fiction “No Choice But Freedom<\/strong>” as a number of characters in the book are Highland Scots who chose to rekindle their hearth in the western reaches of the Carolinas c1747.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Ingle Ken’lt
\n“Hearth Rekindled”<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

From the northern white of the winter’s snow –
\nFrom the eastern blue of the spring’s new moon –
\nFrom the western red of the summer’s sun –
\nFrom the southern gold of the autumn’s leaves –
\nCome coals from the hearth’s flame,
\nEntrusted to the hands of friends.
\nThough the fire has died in the ancestral home,
\nIts spirit remains alive.
\nWhen touched to wood in the new laid hearth,
\nThe warmth is rekindled again.
\nFor warmth is friendship,
\nAnd friendship is love,
\nAnd love is bestowed up on all.
\nLet the door fore’er be open –
\nLet the cawther run free.
\nIt is sung far and wide,
\nThat this ever may be.
\nThe home is the hearth.
\nThe hearth is the flame.
\nThe flame is the spirit of love.
\nLet all know, from whence they came,
\nThey are warmed by this hearth and this flame.
\n\u00a0 (c) Pat Mestern 1985<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/blockquote>\n

*
\nThe poem, \u201cWe Are The Forgotten\u201d will eventually be part of my sixth work of fiction Vena Amorus. How many readers are familiar with an old forgotten graveyard?<\/p>\n

We are the Forgotten<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

We are the old, the unremembered dead.
\n\u00a0 Forgot, we lie in country graveyards high on lonely hills.
\n\u00a0 We are unwept save by such tears as sheds,
\n\u00a0 The weeping sky.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Above old huddled graves in city street, sometimes a passer finds,
\n\u00a0 The time to pause and sigh – remembering.
\n\u00a0 But none pass by us here,
\n\u00a0 Above us sigh only the winds.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The hands that laid us here long-long are dust.
\n\u00a0 The impassioned tears shed then for us are dried.
\n\u00a0 The faltering feet that followed us in grief have now lain still,
\n\u00a0 Unnumbered years.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And, strange hand now till the fields we cleared.
\n\u00a0 Strange voices ring beneath the roofs we raised.
\n\u00a0 Beneath the trees we planted, strange young lovers make their vows,
\n\u00a0 Each passing spring.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The alien plow that draws so near, so near disturbs our rest.
\n\u00a0 Here in our sunken and neglected graves we stir.
\n\u00a0 Who will protest?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

We are unclamoring.
\n\u00a0 We only ask that we may lie,
\n\u00a0 Save from the plow that threatens our old graves,
\n\u00a0 Covered by vines, mourned by the passing winds
\n\u00a0 Wept by the sky.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(C) Pat Mestern 2008<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I wrote the poem Ingle Ken’lt, which translates into Hearth Rekindled, to salute those Highland Scots who settled in Upper Canada during the infamous Scottish Clearances. Ingle Ken’lt refers to the very old tradition of symbolically lighting the hearth in a new home, a custom which was kept alive by some of the immigrant settlers […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":8,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/12"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/12\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.patmestern.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}