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Best Brian Cosgrove Poems

Below are the all-time best Brian Cosgrove poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Mountain Stream

                                                               

                                       

                                MOUNTAIN   STREAM


                                
                        Mountain stream  oh!  Mountain stream.
                        Tell me; tell me; where you’ve been.	
.                       What you’ve seen, and what you’ve heard       
                        And I will whisper, not a word. 

                        You have heard the songbird’s chorus.
                        Dimmer now than yesterday.
                        Voices, voices in the ripples.
                        But I know not what they say.

                        You have known the mount in winter,
                        Known its steely icy grip.
                        Felt the rain and sleet and snow.
                        Tell me tell me what you know.

                        Of mountains high and rivers deep,
                        Of waterfalls and canyons steep.
                        Of natures calm and fury sweep,
                        Through mountain storms,
                        When no man sleeps. 

                        I see the wonder and the beauty,
                        As ever onwards you do go.
                        But what you say we’ll never know.
                        As onwards to the sea you flow




Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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The Forest Pool

   



           The Forest Pool

The flowing stream paused to rest
Refraining from its urgent quest
To rush ever faster at the Worlds bequest

I too watch the Forest pool
And wonder if the worlds a fool
Is it not just a bigger pool

Where can peace be found more free
Where such beauty do we see
Would not all here long to be
Beside the Forest pool

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

Details | Brian Cosgrove Poem |

A Man from Gallilee

           
                      A  Man from Gallilee

              I met a man the other day
             Said he would take my sins away
             He opened eyes and made the blind to see
             And  said  he would be a friend to me

             He was a Man from Gallilee 
             He was a Man from Gallilee

             The strangest man I had ever known
             Said the end from the beginning was known
             And he knew I would be here
             Said beware for the end is near

             He was a Man from Gallilee
             He was a Man from Gallilee

            Went to the Temple for to pray
            Chased the traders all away
            How dare you treat this Temple so
            All this trash will have got to go 

            He was a Man from Gallilee
            He was a Man from Gallilee

            Who was this man from Gallilee
            This man that’s known to you and me
            This man was JESUS – The Son of God
            NOT just a man from Gallilee


Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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Fiordland

Fiordland

Fiordland !  Fiordland!
The name that resounds again and again                                                                    Once touched you’ll never be the same
And to her callings again I came
Her many faces now to see
Peace and tempest which one are thee
The tempest rages uncontrolled
As she displays her restless soul
Deep in my heart I love this land
Untamed, unforgiving rock and sand

Shipwrecks adorn your western shores
Your Fiords a haven from the storm
Here where we see beauty born
Among these majestic mountain walls
Rugged, romantic, regal all
That clash of land and sea
Life and death at the hands of the sea

One time home of the mighty Moose                                                                              Axis deer were here let loose
In the tussock the Notornis still roam
And Trophy Wapiti call this home
Land of mysteries, Land of change
Where the weather dictates rain upon rain
Tomorrow with hope we’ll see a change
Perhaps next time when we come again

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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Your kiss from Heavan

                            Your Kiss from Heavan

               Daddy how do I catch a raindrop
               When the rain just won't stop
               How do I catch moonbeams
               When nothing is there it seems
               How do I catch today Daddy
               And put it in a bottle
               Darling, no-one can catch time 
               And put it in a bottle
               Moonbeams are the memories
               Forever in your dreams
               Raindrops are your Kiss from Heavan
               That gives you Gods own seal
               That Rainbows are the promise
               And memories are for real

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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Mountain Hut


        
                              Mountain Hut

There is a mountain hut I know
Nestled away from rain and snow
I’m always welcome when I go
For we are known from long ago
Here where the trees I know by name
Where all for sure will be the same
When life is changing ever fast
It’s nice to find that some things last
The smell of the bush
The evening hush
Mighty man with humble grace
All are welcome in this place
It’s raining on the tin roof
As if I needed further proof
That sheltered here away from storms
A feeling of oneness that forms
A mountain man at home up here
That we could lose this place I fear
For future hunters, this I ask
Protect this heritage that it might last
Honouring the memories of Hunters past


 

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2014

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Thunder

Thunder

Nightly crashing thunder
Blundering through the streams of my sleep
Lifting me from the valley of my dreams
Plunderer of my sleeptime
Invader of my dreams
Destroyer of my nightly slumber

From behind the closed blinds of my eyelids
The lightning demands to be seen
The rain on my rooftop insists on being heard

This family of rowdy bullies, absorbing my
night into their play
I do wish they’d go away 

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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The Australian Swagman

        
         The  Australian  Swagman 
                                                                                         

     Justin was a Swagman 
     Not by chance but circumstance                                                                          
     A product of his time 
     He carried his life upon his back
     And never asked for more
     Than a chance to earn a meal or two 
     In payment for a chore
     He had no need for guidance
     For he knew the road ahead
     Just a nice quite Billabong                       
     And a place to rest his head               
     The little fire was home
     With the billy on the boil
     As night fell on that Billabong
     He found the peace that he was seeking
     Now he’s gone down that long dusty road
     And we are poorer for the loss of such as he 
     As another legend passes into obscurity

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2014

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The Mountain Hare

 The Mountain Hare

Happy is the mountain hare
Living high on mountain air
Oh! To be so free of care
Going here or maybe there
Times a nonsense long forgot
Rather is it cold or is it hot                                                                              

A care free wanderer on our mounts
and long aware what really counts
We who slave from dawn to dusk
To achieve what turns again to dust
Would that I could stay right there
But then I’m not a mountain Hare 



Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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Poetry

                  Poetry

Poetry offers a medium where
The timid can enter unafraid
It opens doors where you have never been
Allows you to exercise thoughts that seem
Out of order to the stilted mind
Where you can tread on hallowed ground
Ignore the traditions, rules and be unbound
To express your deepest held ideas
Outside the confines of right and wrong
Nothing is out of bounds to the brave
All is open to one who craves
Journeys into the mind, but please be kind
To the timid who too would fly
If they too could find the way
Into that land of freedom writers
Into a place of release to the troubled mind
Poetry can heal, mend and strengthen 
And release the chains that bind the bonded soul
Allowing the release of memories to mourn 
And enjoy the past, give yourself permission to cry
Open that door, find release and let the sunshine in

Sorry, Am I preaching to the converted

Copyright © Brian Cosgrove | Year Posted 2013

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