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Best Travel Poems

Below are the all-time best Travel poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Travel poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Travel Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Travel poems are below this new poems list.

Time And Travel by Schumacker, Earl
Three Day Weekend Travel by bauer, ilene
Time Travel by Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic, David
Time Travel by Avalon, Ria April
My Travel Story by haakifa, ismath
Space Travel by Ward, Clay
The Vicissitudes Of Modern Air Travel by Hinshaw, Robert L.
As You Travel by Price, Franklin
Ode To Darkness And Travel by Holland, Blake
Travel Log by Coyne, William

View all new Travel Poems

The Best Travel Poems

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The Maltese Moon

The Maltese Moon,
she draws my eyes
to shapely orb
in starlit sky
she smiles at me
with wanton grace
and spills desire
upon my face
I'm all awash
in milky glow
sacred secrets
Mine to know...

the Maltese Breeze
he flirts with me
can't let me be
his fingers trace
my rounded face
my hair he twirls
my skirt's a whirl
he has no care 
this Maltese Breeze 
alone can dare
dishevel me
and set me free

The Maltese Sea
now beckons me
wets my desire
in moon glow fire
that rides the waves
as my heart craves
His liquid arms
and all his charms
This Maltese Sea
so vast so free
is calling me
is calling me....

I close my eyes
as Maltese Air
caresses my lips
in great fanfare
I breath him in
in sheer delight
invigorated
by his might
I pause a while
my life on hold..
my heart, it beats
so brave, so bold

The others, they just
walk on by
and yet I wait
alone, I sigh 
Awash in light
of Maltese Moon
the Maltese Breeze
just simply croons
and Maltese Sea
he, murmurs sweet
and I am lost
In Maltese treat

The magic starts to fade away
I start to walk, I cannot stay
They've called me from my reverie
I rush to catch up with the three
but turn for one more blessed glance
at Maltese Moonbeam's fond romance
There's more to me than what they know
more passion than what I can show

The Maltese Moon, she smiles at me
For we have shared sweet ecstasy

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

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Stardust Road

“Stardust Road.”

"Soft defense is driven by my thoughts,
I vanish away into yesterday’s scenic road,
Set the mood among the dark clouds,
Wish I could go back to the night, of fourteen and cold.
Tell me not to look up and cover myself with the world.

Sorry I could not stay, 
One too many excuses & lies,
To where they never fixed themselves;
I could not handle the air,
I had to breathe right the cold nights that followed. 
I stood as one in love, under the starry sky…
Young and alone, I left the never-ending vindictive feeling.
The dust slept every reason inside my soul.
I travel the world, snoozing with the magic of the sand.
Stars that echo and drop twinkles to my walking toes.
The horizon was my blanket and shield
Where the light and night I wore, 
Accelerating, escaping no more justification! 
"Oceans of excuses sailed through my soul, 
Heartbroken, but in love with defiance toward the stardust novelty. 

With a sigh!
I hesitate not to look back,
Somewhere the ages turn to rust: 
Old and grey, all alone,

The leaves I stepped on then are trample and gone.
One day I shall return for the proper goodbye.
For now, I must travel down this lonely road silently.
Slowly my heart will heal itself, nurturing the frozen sleet away.
Releasing the 14-year old girl at last,
In a body a mind and soul, 
Confronting her with an, I BELONG HELLO!”

By;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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Kiss of the Eagle

Many eons passed on Earth, who only saw your face
Untouched your virgin body, floating there in space
Waxing, waning, gibbous, crescent, quarter, full and new
Selene the Greeks would call you; Diana, Caesar knew

Who would brave the ether, who would cross the void
To agitate the tranquil sea you had so long enjoyed
To softly kiss your ravaged face and return to tell the tale
Of Luna's hidden secrets beneath her powdered veil?

Three heroes took the final quest aboard their fiery steed
In Apollo's silver chariot proceeding with godspeed
Three days and nights they voyaged to their opalescent goal
On Earth they watched and worried in the halls of ground control

One held the craft outside the reach of Luna's jealous grip
While Eagle's talons cradled two who risked the final trip
They timidly approached her through the shadowy abyss
Luna waited patiently and received the Eagle's kiss

Nations watched and cheered on Terra's distant shore
As one man finally took a step no one ever took before
In our hearts and in our minds his words will be enshrined
"That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind."


Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2012

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MALTA

Magnificent scenery Ancient Architecture Lovely lovely people Terrific cuisine All I wish is to return again one day Jan Allison 31st October 2014


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert




Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

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The First Kiss or That Darn Ann Landers

Son of a gun we were still young;
only 15 years gone by.
You were the first my kissing bubble to burst, 
and for you, I think so was I.
I wanted to start putting other parts 
of our bodies in the field of play;
But you stopped it instead as you paused and read 
what Ann Landers had written to say:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

You stuck to your creed in spite of my plea, 
and I didn’t want to press you;
So your hand I would hold and my tongue I would fold, 
even though I want to undress you.
Late at night my conscience I’d fight, 
still awake in my lonely bed;
Thinking of you and what I would do 
if these words weren’t still stuck in my head:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

I followed your rules, played it cool
for the first ten to twenty dates;
But by the end of the year to me it was clear 
we wouldn’t be tempting our fate.
So we parted our ways; ending our days 
to see other people instead;
As I set forth looking of course 
for a girl who hadn’t read:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

More than thirty years have disappeared; 
For me two wives and four kids.
And as for you, I hear it’s true, 
that getting married you never did.
I’ll never forget and never regret
That first kiss where we both did live;
And though I did slander poor ole Ms. Landers 
to my daughter this advice I now give.

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.


Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010

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TRAIL OF TEARS

TRAIL OF TEARS

I've been there once,
I've been there twice
BLUE SKIES, never die!

A day of sorrow,
I can still feel the pain from yesterday,
The pain continues to sit there today,
It will continue to sit there tomorrow,
No word to say.
BLUE SKIES!
Nothing Less.

A trail of tears,
My life left

     
~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

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Vagabond vacation

My heart is a vagabond, yearning to see the unseen, wayfarer wandering, wanting to witness the worlds wonders. My soul has a mission to explore, seeking adventures, one day, to pick up my back pack and travel the planet. To venture to the zenith of mount Everest, feeling the crisp cool breeze against my face. Walk among the ghosts of Machu Picchu, to feel how the Incas lived in their sacred valley. Maybe, I can touch the clouds from Mount Roraima, made famous by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1596. From Venezuela, travel to the Amazon rainforest in Brazil, live among exotic animals and dangerous predators. Travel the USA, from the Antelope Canyon to Niagra Falls, trek the Zion and Glacier national parks, full of natural beauty. Visit my friends scattered all over the states, from Florida to Texas, New York to West Virginia, Missouri to Louisiana and then finally to Hawaii! Visit the different islands, relax on the beautiful beaches, tour all the different national parks, especially the volcanoes! Then to China, to visit that wall and Mount Emei, next to the wonders of my favourite place - Vietnam. Breathtaking beauty in Da Nang, Da Lat, Sa Pa and Phu Quoc, to the haunting memories of the past war that remain on view. The Phi Phi islands, Bora Bora and the Maldives await, serene natural beauty bringing peace to the mind. Finally, to the ancient city of Petra in Jordan, to see the magnificence of its enchantment. Living the life of a traveller, will mean eating lots of exotic food, authentic mansaf, noodles, curries, spring rolls and creole dishes, will make my taste buds explode with culinary delight. But, for now, I can only dream about what adventures lie ahead, for, in my heart, I am a vagabond waiting to start my journey. 10 February 2016 Vacation contest by Lin Lane


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

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Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.

Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me 
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.

The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.

As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.

I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.

His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.

Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who  would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The  tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.


Tea, anyone?






Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2011

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Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found



Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

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Old Pirate

I dream of the past and days on the high seas
With no one to answer to and no one to please
Yearning for the freedom that I once knew
With the sails set and a sea of blue
Dream of the islands and her beautiful eyes
For the taste of her lips my heart still cries
Once a pirate who sailed with the wind
Now only memories that I rescind
I look at the past in the afterglow
Wondering where does an old pirate go
Time has carved deeply the lines on my face
Settling down feels so out of place
Longing to return to that tropical lagoon
Where I once held her beneath a Caribbean moon
Young brash and arrogant, I sailed away
Never said good bye, I still see her each day
My heart beats a tune that has me undone
Until the day I sail toward that tropical sun
Thinking back and missing her so
Wondering where does an old pirate go.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2011

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My City

Of the Gods own country of this paradise where green and blue merge as one in the north is a city that encompass the beauty where the dream lands meet lined by kaasaraka trees where seven tongues are spoken and a unique lingo was woken lined by shores and calm beaches which meets with forts of ancient elegance who can pass by with no notice the mountains high and hillocks of beauty forests green and tranquil rivers places of worship, unique structures renowned for coir and handloom and for its customs varied The people here, with a smile of warmth welcoming with open arms known for their variety dishes which does prick ones tastebuds of the sense of fashion who can beat their passion and their thirst for knowledge is to be acknowledged fame it has know from times of yore of the arts and culture it beholds this is the city of budding talents feel the vibe and do relent © Nadiya(14 May '15)
*Chosen poem of the day on 16 May 2015


Copyright © poesy relish | Year Posted 2015

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Strawberries And Cream

Daybreak slipping through these champagne curtains

Red silk; twined aneath crimsons sheets; awakening....

This afterglows mornings dew; her wet moist kisses 

Soft sunrise and whom can deny such love; about her

Kittens den; purrr; feed me this need of your heavenly

Breed; cranberry breast amid sweet sublime; suckling

Her thirsting poetics child; a virgins verse as capturing

Venus aside strokes swirling atop sanguines canvas....

Splashed in maroons colours of a daybreak; pink silk 

Aneath sheets slipping through tomorrows champagne 

Curtains parting their purrring; brushing this her beauty 

Within a moist dews afterglow; intoxicatings sweet, wet

*********************************************

...."Red Rums Kiss * 'Strawberries And Cream'" ~




Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2012

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VISIONS IN FATIMA


Strewn with buds onto night’s refrain
We followed  the hovel of an outer-world,
As rustling leaves formed a map’s cave
Through a journey connecting reality;
Where our twin- souls moved in silence.

I felt your hands cuddling a bounty of flowers
And we are in Portugal once more,
Cleansing lost time in holy water.

The procession of candles brushed the air
quite sacred: white lilies unfurling petals 
into hundred lights on the shrine
of admirable Fatima, while life crowned us again.

We strolled with a monolith of statues
Blessing each path connecting our thoughts
In the house of Mary, of transparent gods.

But the vision turns into ripples; I’m by myself 
a lone pilgrim enclosed in a thorny zareba
Wishing there was never a goodbye.

Night’s haunting refrain still moans
Along pathways of Lisbon: a rosary clasped 
that my distant twin- flame would find me soon... 
at the edge of twilight.




Nayda Ivette Negron's Twin Flames Contest
Re-posted 3/09/2016




Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

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India

I read with greed John Master's books,
to Indian culture introduced.
I grew to love a distant land;
by her allure I was seduced.

To Indian culture introduced,
I felt the urge to go and see
the striking beauty of her face,
the charms bestowed abundantly.

I grew to love a distant land
where the traditions are held high,
religion, races, culture, tongues
are deep-ingrained - will never die.

By her allure I was seduced,
this vibrant country in the east.
I plan to take a closer look
and let my eyes in wonder feast. 


----------------------------------
Contest: Shall We Retourne
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Breathes

Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.

My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.

At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.



Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

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Leaving Madrid

In mid-June's heat, we wait inside the bus, 
and everyone has said their last goodbyes.  
The Moorish boy I’ve come to know is sad.
 He says he knows I never will return.  

The bus pulls out (his face just fades away).
We pass through streets that now seem not the same
as those that we first rode down when we came
here six short months ago. It seemed so strange!

Madrid, my first impression of you was
how everything seemed  dingy and so grey.
But staying here, I found your treasures, and
enjoyed your many charms that I unearthed.

I’ve walked among your people, tasted foods:
paella, soups and pastries and much more.
I’ve visited Retiro Park, seen art
in sculptures on your streets and in museums.

I’ve visited your shops, your restaurants
where dancers of flamenco hypnotize, 
your ring for fighting bulls, your theaters;
your streets seem now familiar, almost sweet!

And now we leave to catch that big bird home.
I do not  know my future; I feel glum.
The group I came with,  now like family,
seem happy as they chat excitedly.

They’re speaking of their families back home
and what they’re going to do back in the States.
But I alone am missing you, Madrid,
before I even board that giant bird.


For Deb's  Somewhere Over the Rainbow Contest
(the way I remember my last day in Madrid in '74)


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

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WHITE DEVIL

White Devil

Call it what you want!
I call it, his favorite season hunt...
Two hoofs imprinted near the riverfront.
Echoes calling my soul with a loud, ferocious grunt.

I smell it in the air, lost upon the white golden stair.
A deep frost dwelling all over his lair.
Tangled by the frozen grip of my hair.
A decision, I declare to give what he won't spare.

This man has no red suit..
Lurking in the white to recruit.
A midnight suicide clouding me with pollute.
I pause my tongue on mute, lost in a white castle chute.

Headed straight into a shivering blazing star path.
The land of snow covered like a bubble bath.
Breaking icicles like crystal glass, suck3d by the milky-way mass.
Multiplying bruises like a cascade, enjoying the aftermath. 

Finding a way to slit the pain in my domain.
I grab a coat and lace my name to Mary-Jane.
Inserting the finest line to ease the drain in my brain.
I drink the icy scotch, and drop a silver nickel into the devils cocaine.

Fallen in to his bait, its too late, I got 7 lines on my dinner plate.
I'm covered up in snow, enjoying the amazing way to suffocate.
Eight beats to every minute is my new heart rate.
I'm reaching for the white golden gate, where the white devil waits.

Drowning like liquor in a frappe mixing the winter's high tide.
Death to my soul is where I hide under this white blanket neutral side.
Too heavy to uplift this storm lost in the devil's cold custard suicide guide.
Waking up in a coma, in a world where white collides with the rage of suicide.

by;p.d.   
 (( Trapped in a snowy blizzard))


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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Texas Wildflower Haiku : Widow's Tears

sun’s heat sunders sand
clustered lanced leaves green hug
widow’s tears collapse

Widow’s Tears is the common name for Commelina erecta var. angustifolia, they bloom on 
Texas beaches in sand or clay, and have the characteristic of flowering early in the morning 
and fading by noon. The bloom in all seasons but I chose spring to be more commonly 
approachable. [1]

[1] Wildflowers and Other Plants of Texas Beaches and Islands, Alfred Richardson


Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2009

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The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

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Erin Go Bragh

At Ben Bulben’s feet Sligo stands
The home of such creative hands

Where poet William Yeats did grow.
The Nobel Prize his poems did know.

On my trip to this emerald isle,
I yearned to visit a long while.

As sun poured through the misty sky
Shedding warmth with its golden eye,

I stood beside the lough in awe
At dancing diamonds that I saw

Near Connemara’s tall twelve bens 
O’er lands of ancient souls that wends.

I sense their haunting watchful eyes
And feel my roots where rivers rise.

I hear the voices lost at sea,
They echo on eternally;

As with the thousands who took flight
During the worst potato blight.

Their sadness streams across the seas
Where most souls died with unheard pleas.

Those sad and tragic days long past,
And Erin’s joys returned at last

To verdant Lee and sandy shores
To music heard across the moors,

To people with the kindest hearts
Is what this isle to me imparts.

© 2013 

*Erin go bragh means Ireland Forever
*lough means a lake
*Ben means Irish, a mountain peak


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2013

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Highland Lassie

Inspired by the painting "Highland Lassie" (1871) by Thomas Faed.

(Verse One; In introduction to Cailin)
Walkin' on the highways, searchin' down the byways,
Tromps a lonely figure on the Highland roads;
Peerin' from the Highdown, breezin' through the lake town,
Askin' of a question erry where he goes:
(Chorus; Cailin, followed by some villagefolk)
And it's, "Marry, gather 'round! for she hasna' yet been found;
I come lookin' for the truest lass, as only one can be:
I've a letter do deliver; as you see, it says to give 'er
To the fairest Highland lassie from Loch Leven to the sea."
"Here's a lass," they proudly say, "fair as June and sweet as May,
And it's sure that she's the fairest in the Highland mountains steep:
Through the heather you may go, climb the mountains capped with snow,
But you'll never find a better lass on which your eyes to peep."

(Verse Two; Cailin's thoughts)
Some of them were pouty, others even dowdy;
"These," he thought, "would never do in fifteen years:
Beauty on the outside, nothin' on the inside,
Leaves a girl with nothin' when it fades to tears."
(Chorus; Cailin's continuing journey)
Trav'lin' all around, for she hasna' yet been found;
He's come lookin' for the truest lass, as only one can be:
With a letter do deliver; as you see, it says to give 'er
To the fairest Highland lassie from Loch Leven to the sea." 
"Here's a lass," they proudly say, "fair as June and sweet as May,"
But you canna' tell the fairest one except you see them all:
And the lassies sweetly smile, for this stranger to beguile,
As 'e treads throughout the Highlands from the winter to the fall.

(Verse Three; Cailin's travels and troubles)
From the banks of Lomon', up to Durness roamin',
How's a wight to judge betwixt a thousand score?
Steps were waxing weary, days were growing dreary,
'Till 'e saw a lass 'e hadna' met before.
(Chorus; Cailin, to a lass called Ellsie and her villagefolk)
And it's, "Marry, gather 'round, for the lassie here is found!
I 'ave searched and found the truest lass, as only one can be:
Here the letter I deliver; as you see, it says to give 'er
To the fairest Highland lassie from Loch Leven to the sea. 
"Here's a lass," I proudly say, "fair as June and sweet as May,
And it's sure that she's the fairest in the Highland mountains steep:
Through the heather you may go, climb the mountains capped with snow,
But you'll never find a better lass on which your eyes to peep."

(Verse Four; Ellsie's villagefolk reply in confusion)
Then they said, "Oh, please, Sir, don't you taunt and tease 'er,
Caint you tell she's plainer e'en than Skye down dell?
Caint you tell you've pained 'er? don't do that again, Sir,
Lest you 'ave a reason, and if so, pray tell."
(Chorus; Cailin's reply, followed by Ellsie reading the letter)
"O'er the braes an' through the moor, I 'ave trode my walkers sore,
All to find the truest lassie in the Highlands boggy peat;
And the truest lass is fair, for the true shall never wear,
So I say that here's the truest, fairest lass I've chanced to meet."
Then she opened up the scroll, and she read it to the full,
And for those who chance to wonder, I shall quote you what she read:
"When the fairest lass I find, if our wishes are aligned,
I should wish to know thee better, lass, and then, perhaps, to wed."

(Verse Five; Ellsie's reply to the letter)
Then she said, "Oh, come, Sir; don't be sad or glum, Sir;
Meet my father, mother, and my sisters small:
Soon the bells were ringin', people gladly singin'
"Here's the lad who worked to find the best of all."
(Chorus, which Ellsie's villagefolk sing at the wedding)
"O'er the braes an' through the moor, 'e 'as trode 'is walkers sore,
All to find the truest lassie in the Highlands boggy peat;
And the truest lass is fair, for the true shall never wear,
So I say that here's the truest, fairest lass I've chanced to meet. 
"Here's a lass," we proudly say, "fair as June and sweet as May,
And it's sure that she's the fairest in the Highland mountains steep:
Through the heather you may go, climb the mountains capped with snow,
But you'll never find a better lass on which your eyes to peep."



Note: the verses are written using trochaic feet, meaning that they begin with a stressed syllable, followed by an unstressed, and so on repeatedly. The fifth foot (syllables nine and ten) in the second and fourth lines of the verses is a spondee, meaning two stressed syllables in one foot. I mention this for ease in correct reading. An example of this same device is "Since the Savior Found Me" by Edgar J. Haskins, (in last line of verses and refrain).


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

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WISCONSIN

We are known for our football, bratwurst, and beer,
Iridescent blue lakes with fresh waters, crystal clear,
Summer's sun blazes hot enough to make skin burn,
Cheese producing dairy farms are around every turn,
Our bright autumn leaves change their colors with ease,
Near spring, the scent of lilac floats upon the breeze,
Snowy winters, with temperatures below zero degrees,
In our green forests, raccoons and deer have a home,
Near the roadside, wildflowers grow wherever you roam.

Harley-Davidson was born, where the eagles fly free,
Wisconsin is as close to heaven, as home can be.






Kim Merryman's contest - "Tell Me About Where You're From"


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

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World above the clouds

Far away from this bonded crowd,
Far away from these layers of 
shroud,
Oh wings of the air glide me away,
To the world, world above the 
clouds.

To the giant mountains of mist,
Where sparkling houses of rain 
will 
be built,
World beneath where would be 
moving,
And sun rays where will be cold 
and soothing.

Where I won’t be bound by laws,
And I could speak freely about 
the 
things I love aloud,
Yeah to the world with cloud 
above the clouds,
Where everything just everything 
will be allowed.

Sliding on morning dews that stays 
till night,
Diving in the night’s sky that looks 
like morning light,
With no paths to follow,
I’ll glide free and fast,
Yawing, pitching, bouncing, 
shouting,
Like the endless penumbra it’s 
unknown where I’ll last
Yeah endless it is,
And it’s unknown where I’ll last



For Above the CloudsContest
I think I am late :-( posting this 
anyways


Copyright © Shiraz Iqbal | Year Posted 2013

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- Haiku X 51 - Safari -



Each new day I read 
Poems from around the world 
A great Safari







27.03.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015