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Best Famous Sinn Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Sinn poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sinn poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sinn poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of sinn poems.

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69. Third Epistle to J. Lapraik

 GUID speed and furder to you, Johnie,
Guid health, hale han’s, an’ weather bonie;
Now, when ye’re nickin down fu’ cannie
 The staff o’ bread,
May ye ne’er want a stoup o’ bran’y
 To clear your head.


May Boreas never thresh your rigs,
Nor kick your rickles aff their legs,
Sendin the stuff o’er muirs an’ haggs
 Like drivin wrack;
But may the tapmost grain that wags
 Come to the sack.


I’m bizzie, too, an’ skelpin at it,
But bitter, daudin showers hae wat it;
Sae my auld stumpie pen I gat it
 Wi’ muckle wark,
An’ took my jocteleg an whatt it,
 Like ony clark.


It’s now twa month that I’m your debtor,
For your braw, nameless, dateless letter,
Abusin me for harsh ill-nature
 On holy men,
While deil a hair yoursel’ ye’re better,
 But mair profane.


But let the kirk-folk ring their bells,
Let’s sing about our noble sel’s:
We’ll cry nae jads frae heathen hills
 To help, or roose us;
But browster wives an’ whisky stills,
 They are the muses.


Your friendship, Sir, I winna quat it,
An’ if ye mak’ objections at it,
Then hand in neive some day we’ll knot it,
 An’ witness take,
An’ when wi’ usquabae we’ve wat it
 It winna break.


But if the beast an’ branks be spar’d
Till kye be gaun without the herd,
And a’ the vittel in the yard,
 An’ theekit right,
I mean your ingle-side to guard
 Ae winter night.


Then muse-inspirin’ aqua-vitae
Shall make us baith sae blythe and witty,
Till ye forget ye’re auld an’ gatty,
 An’ be as canty
As ye were nine years less than thretty—
 Sweet ane an’ twenty!


But stooks are cowpit wi’ the blast,
And now the sinn keeks in the west,
Then I maun rin amang the rest,
 An’ quat my chanter;
Sae I subscribe myself’ in haste,
 Yours, Rab the Ranter.Sept. 13, 1785.

Written by William Strode |

On The Death Of Mrs. Mary Neudham

 As sinn makes gross the soule and thickens it
To fleshy dulness, so the spotless white
Of virgin pureness made thy flesh as cleere
As others soules: thou couldst not tarry heere
All soule in both parts: and what could it bee
The Resurrection could bestow on thee,
Allready glorious? thine Innocence
(Thy better shroude) sent thee as pure from hence
As saints shall rise: but hee whose bounty may
Enlighten the greate sunn with double day,
And make it more outshine itselfe than now
It can the moone, shall crowne thy varnish'd brow
With light above that sunn: when thou shalt bee
No lower in thy place than Majesty:
Crown'd with a Virgin's wreath, outshining there
The Saints as much as thou did'st mortalls heere.
Bee this thy hope; and whilst thy ashes ly
Asleepe in death, dreame of Eternity.

Written by Marcin Malek |

'sinn'

We are the anthems trumpets
long-maned waves and roaring seas
we are the heavy columns of clouds
and eager sharp granite fangs

we are the yellow sands
that marble moon grey dust
a stone’s shadow as hard as tears
of river streams and famine time

we boundless days empty nights
blood on the threshold iris of guns
hangman's ropes and trenches –
of gaping hollow graves

We are life itself – heathers
of dreams woven by mist
enchanted in pearls of rain
that sleep on top of Carrantuohill

We are among the songs and poems
beneath the dreams and fairytales
we are struggling blizzards and showers
under the wing of the black prophetess

We are the notes of songs
music was born from us –
we are the rays of the beginning
and shadows of the past –
the memory of ancient times
so distant but close to every heart