Argyll: The Loch Goil Goblin

Hubby and I recently spent a week wild camping around Kintyre and Argyll. While we were there I had a terrifying run-in with the Goblin of Loch Goil and it inspired me to do something I’ve never tried before – write a poem.

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Once upon an evening golden, as I lay in awe beholden
T’ward the summer sun I love, adore, revere
I found my pondered thoughtful brood, had put me in a tranquil mood
But little did I know it would, my bliss exchange for fear
My calm tranquillity soon become a churning fear
At the noises waxing in my ear

I must admit tho’, if I do say, that it was a stunning eve of May
That we sat upon that Loch’s edge, for not the first of that year
And watched as birds did dance and tweet, with no one chorus permissed repeat
The sun shrank away in a final retreat, and from our sight did disappear
The comforting light making visible the land did disappear
And soon, toward the darkness; steer!

The dying embers of the fire gave glow that barely warmed the earth below
And so we retreated; sought rest in our mimsy frontier
And as I drifted to noiseless slumber, with worries of naught that could encumber
A rustling, slow and heavy lumber, found its way fearful into my ear
The peace laid to rest by this baleful worm in my ear
And then closer as in me swelled the fear

All of a sudden my eyes flew open but the terror meant not a word was spoken
My husband, there laid beside me, unconscious from beer
The noise! Louder! No longer rustles, outside the tent now, laboured shuffles
Grunting, salivating, snorted muffles, ridiculing me with a sneer
Smelling my terror, a smugness frightfully evident in that sneer
As I lie frozen, crippled with fear

But what horrific form, this beast outside? And is it aware that in my tent I hide?
In my mind, Goblins, trolls and Sméagols appear
Circling my tent all rabid and dribbling, dragging me out to have a good nibbling
But with rationality and zero quibbling, I know I must persevere
Still, in spite the splashing and guttural bursts, I persevere
And swallow the lump in my throat that is fear

Realising at once that a’fore my demise, I must view this beast with my very own eyes
I gaze over at my sleeping Prince, and shed a tear
I reach for the zip and as quiet as can be, my heart a’ pounding I open it free
I push out my head to a sufficient degree and into the darkness I peer
There. Right in front of me, in the eyes of my goblin I peer
Tho’ t’was not a goblin, but a magnificent deer.

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