I went to Orkney Folk Festival and I saw...

 

I went to Orkney Folk Festival and I saw… 

(audio version here)

 

 

1 

 

The macaroni pie

of a woman to my right

held halfway 

between plate and bite.

 

A voice ringing out

as a spell was spun,

hunger had to wait

till the song was done.

 

 

2 

 

Afternoon shows

with a coach trip air,

coats on, zips up,

nothing too bare.

 

But later at the Stomp,

feet firm, arms bright,

the strappiest tops,

young blood, all night.

 

 

3 

 

It wasn’t quite a circle,

more of a line,

four lovely singers

sitting in a shrine.

 

They played old colours

and they tried out new.

They left us charmed,

anything but blue.

 

 

4

 

A walk by the point,

brave tents in the roar,

singers swimming wild,

more golf than war.

 

Runners with dogs,

fiddles and feet,

we all headed down

to the prettiest street.

 

 

5 

 

Singers all around us,

perfect lullabies,

singers in the jumper shop,

looking for their size.

 

Singers with jetlag,

looking for calm,

singers with toddlers,

looking for an arm.

6

 

Midnight at the club, 

and a song for a dad,

a story I don’t know,

not a life I've had.

 

But the woman to my left,

was an open gate,

tears flooded fast,

it was hot, it was late.

 

 

7

 

For a change, Sunday morning,

squeezed in a pew,

for poets and pianos,

and a choir came too.

 

Light poured in

as the songs soared high,

it’s not about angels,

more about sky.

 

 

8

 

The boat on Monday,

tired goodbyes,

memories in phones,

smiles, heavy sighs.

 

And the session carried on

as we sailed away,

tunes for dreams

at the end of the day.

RF 2023