Best Bracken Poems

Red rambling roses.
Pink parading  pansies
Yellow yawning ylang ylang
Scarlet shining strawberries

Gorgeous growing gardenias
Beautiful bending bracken
Lovely lilting lilies
Attractive ambling agapanthus 

Carefully crafted
Meticulously maintained
Fastidiously fashioned
Delightful daydream
em...

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Evening finds ascension
on a red grouse wing;
the brilliant copper sky 
fades to twilight beam.
 
 
It wafts the weathered flora
of a season’s ending term,
as young skylarks soundly sleep
in the nearby bracken fern.
 
 
The purple hue glints playfully
on a steep highland muir,
with lovers lying blythesome...

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Bracken breached hawthorn hedgerows
hide teeny folk with tiny toes.
Sheer gossamer wings; shy butterflies
Dew-drops lit by dawning skies.

Sandy hair, blue raven locks
Auburn streaks on chestnut stalks
Valley lilies invert to hats
Wee portabella mushroom caps.

Acorn shoes with resin soles
Lace gartered legs and leafy shawls
Dresses spun from brushed lime...

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FIRST MOVEMENT (Minor Key)

Times such as these test body soul and mind
So should our thoughts be pain and dark confined
Or loosed to concentrate on brighter things
Like furry puppies, flowers and girls on swings

In this bright morning sun as I roved out
Past village houses waking to...

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Blackie mounts my broomstick every Halloween
With her silky coat and eyes of emerald green
We’re silhouetted in the moonbeam's gleam
Kitty meows so loudly if ever we are seen
Children point at us and let out a scream

Look at that black cat and the warty old witch
Blackie’s hackles...

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As I sit there looking out to sea,
Reflects a picture of a different time.
Its white washed walls set against the granite rock,
As the sea pounds it, with waves of brine.
A bridle path runs along the cliff,
Worn down, by previous generations past.
Now given way to the...

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Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Together in mixed relation

From the Lowlands to the Highlands
Family names of a forgotten past
Deliver us to their present
For these surnames are here to last

Sunrises and sunsets have so greeted
Many a morn...

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Wandering the virtual
green fields of home,
I open the farmyard gate
fall into a haze of retrospect.
I see a “LMS Black Five” Locomotive
bellowing upon a utilized line,
ghostly sparks tantalizing
the embankment.
Below a paddock ploughed,
sown with scattered seed
to germinate this memory
of that time past.
I stroll the hoary lane
beneath a...

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The good earth!...ahh! its beauty
sloping down to golden river’s bank,
where trout and dreamy summit play
their game, a contest of who looks
longest, passers by or the tickled fish 
and cumly eagle in her fortress nest

Yet is there a winner, who feasts off such
delight?
The latter in leaps...

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Sun declines, beneath the emerald rim
And I'll be headin' home...
to a cottage in the moor lands 
with a fire to warm me' bones

The kettle of beans are boilin'
and some coals will bake me scones
I will rest my weary shoulders
And be glad for what I've seen

I've...

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Sun is declining, beneath a blue Irish sea
With a fire to warm me' bones, in a cottage by the bay
And the coals to bake me scones, 
Where the bracken turns so reddin'
Like a wildfire on the mountain
And wee nanny goats on rocky hillsides, are too...

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Born, far aloft on highest peak,
of glaze caressed by golden glow,
through ancient sculpted rock she seeks
fair journey forth to glens below.


Cool innocence; a virgin stream
unfurls her charm at leisured pace;
a bracken shaded lover’s dream
meanders on with gentle grace.


O’er highland slopes she carves her name
and tastes...

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IT MIGHT AS WELL BE SPRING

Across the heath neath cerulean sky
All still, in brief expectant breathless pause
Impending vernal change of season nigh
Awaits fulfill of pre-condition clause

Yet bracken lace and grass a tawny match
Though warmer tint from sun that elevates
A song bird now essaying dulcet snatch
Of...

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My soul was on fire, as I entered the wood
By the old rusty gate, which silently stood
Absorbing history, making no choice
Passing no judgement, adding no voice

The rough ancient path, veined with roots
To test my step, or scuff my boots
Unhurriedly followed the line of the brook
But...

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Vashon Memories

A song to sing itself –
A birthing voice,
Shouting then whispering
Of fields and quiet harbors
Of blackberries and sunlight on smooth waters,
Of boredom, rest and restlessness
	In tidal pools
	Hunting hermit crabs and limpets,
		Sticking on all fingers,
	Avoiding jelly fish and barnacles
When pigtails and freckles
	Fly through misty bracken fern,
	Evergreen...

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