Best Kelpie Poems
Oh kelpie with your dripping mane
seducing valiant men of heart,
who by your spell would all be swain
and every sense in them, depart.
Why weep you by the loch and tide?
What brought you from your kelpie depth?
Sure no desire is kept aside
from your cold, illusory breath.
No longer do you haunt the bank,
but mourn a clever witch of wile
from whose enchanted cup you drank,
now captive to her charm and guile.
She'll bid you work a hundred years
in slavery chains for nigh
'til kelpie legend disappears
for proper penance, hue and cry.
*In Scottish folklore, a kelpie is a malevolent water spirit in the form of a horse.
Kelpies were believed to inhabit lochs and rivers, and to lure men to their watery graves
by transforming into beautiful women, once drowned the kelpie would then eat the victim.
The kelpie of this poem was the victim of a love enchantment, eagerly agreeing to a
lovesick life of slavery for penance of past misdeeds. Ha, whoever heard of a repentant, lovesick kelpie?
Categories:
kelpie, fantasymen, slavery,
Form:
Quatrain
Let’s hve haggis and drinks mi luve
Find de bes ina de ole land
Lay yu head on mi chest mi luve
Whilst wi dance musik wid de band
Dance wid de band in de Highlands
Backyard jig good fer de ole soul
Tickle mi nose with yu gold locks
Tigether wi bade ead to toe’s sole
Call Fionn mi Luve with his jug
Nice poems he read at de gate
Summon the Clooties with a mug
Aye, they will cum and bles dis date
We’ll sail de river on Loch Ness
Kelpies will protect our flanks
Goddess Scotia says we bless
Oh mi chamin' sweet Sidhe, tanks
Aye! Mi sweet luve; Boobrie will fly
He will fetch up the Salmon Ring
And a knot cross de land we tye
Red Caps our guard til cum de spring
Then wid haggis and drinks mi luve
Goddesses'pipes blow dem great songs
In the grey mist we skip and dance
Then like Boobrie we fly with doves
Scottish Mythical Legends:
1. Fionn is a Scottish magician, warrior and poet
2. Clootie is a Scottish name for the devil. The name originated from the word cloot, which
mean a division in the cleft hoof of an animal.
3. Kelpie is a Scottish water devil who lurks in lakes and rivers and drowns its victims.
4. Scotia is a goddess normally portrayed as an old hag with the tusks of a wild boar
5. Sidhe (Shee) is the Gaelic name for fairies in the Highlands of Scotland and also Ireland.
6. Boodrie is a wonderful water-bird from the Highlands. It haunts and protects the lakes
and wells.
7. Red Cap is a sort of short, stocky old guy with long gray hair and claws instead of hands
and fingers. He lives on the Scottish border and guard the ancient ruins of castles
Categories:
kelpie, adventure, fantasy, funny, happiness,
Form:
Ballad
In reservoirs, far underground,
where stalagmites are sometimes found.
In lakes and ponds and puddled pools,
in mist and marsh and snow that cools,
I hide beside my sisters.
In issuing springs that sparkle bright,
on stony slopes of shade and light,
to flowing streams that twist and turn,
past meadow banks of grass and fern,
I glide beside my sisters.
In river reach with rippling flow
‘tween rush and reed I always go,
to delta mouths both deep and wide,
which seas contest at every tide,
to glide beside my sisters.
In raging rapids torrents race,
or waterfall’s tumultuous pace,
in storm lashed seas, which crash and break,
on shingle shores that white waves rake,
I ride beside my sisters.
And who am I that rides so free,
who glides and hides so easily;
a mermaid in the salty sea,
a naiad or a white kelpie?
A water nymph you just might see,
me ride, beside my sisters.
Categories:
kelpie, fairy, nature, water,
Form:
Quatrain
The harbour rests from the rolling waves
Of a windswept and tempestuous sea
Beyond the breakwater lay sailors graves
Where shipwrecks in eternal sleep rest free
Once lured upon the rocks they didn’t see
Now ghosts of sailors take their endless rest
With sirens haunting cries, their bemoaning plea
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Yachts now moored, as their owners misbehaves
In dim lit cabins with lovers on their knee
Pink gin’s at sunset and acting like knaves
While jealous husbands spy hiding on the quay
And lovers sit on their boats drinking Chablis
Other yachts sit forlorn not looking their best
Their days spent at sea, with the call of the siren’s banshee
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Fishing boats chug past, their crew now waves
At those waiting for their catch with impish glee
On the quayside, fish, their customers now craves
And the fee for their catch they readily agree
Then having a meal completely buckshee
The fishermen go home for a well-earned rest
No more trawling, hearing sirens or wailing kelpie
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Life in the harbour for some is all but carefree
Yet for others it may not be so heaven blest
As they sail troubled seas where sirens can be
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Categories:
kelpie, fishing, mythology, ocean, sea,
Form:
Ballade
By the side of the loch some boys at play,
when into their midst there came
A beautiful white and riderless horse
with a long and flowing mane
A redheaded boy jumped up on its back,
a daring young sprite was he
And the other bold lads, as lads often do,
followed in his lee
The boys they ranged from the head to the tail,
and more clung to the side
And the pure white horse cantered along,
with the boys enjoying the ride
But one boy recalled an ancient tale,
and wished he had paid more heed,
How the slimy Kelpie could change its shape
and become a shining steed
Then the Kelpie, in this fine disguise,
would trot by the loch or mere
And the humans foolish enough to ride,
would be doomed to disappear
This unhappy boy had a grip on the tail
and he was running last
But when he tried to let it go,
he found his hand stuck fast
He twisted and turned, he tossed and thrashed,
but all to no avail
‘til he pulled out a knife, from the top of his boot,
and slashed the creature’s tail
And in that instant the Kelpie reared up,
and flew with brimstone and fire
Out over the loch and down in the deep
of the boggy marsh and mire
The boy left behind stood on the sand
and gazed where his friends been
And though the men searched for many a night,
they never again were seen
And the mothers came to sit by the loch,
to keen, to moan and cry
And in their grief they failed to see,
a pale horse trotting by.
Margaret Foster 29th August 2011
‘each uisge’ Gaelic—Water horse—Kelpie
mere—archaic, dialect. a lake or marsh.
Categories:
kelpie, boy, fantasy, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
Just a short story of the joys of living with a cat, a kelpie, a labrador.
Sometimes they play in a peaceful house, sometimes it’s like a war.
Like this morning, the red dog played tug of war all over the yard out the back.
For an hour both dogs pushed and pulled, stopped, sort of retired but then they’d both attack.
This was fun and joyous and lively, entertaining playing in harmony, peace, love and bliss.
Nothing could go wrong, nothing, as long as the cat wasn’t there, nothing could go amiss.
Well, you see this is where it got tricky, tricky when the kelpie decided to go in the house.
Inside where the cat was sleeping beside her kittens, sleeping like a mouse.
The red dog made it as far as the kitchen, that’s when play war became something so real.
From nowhere, a once quiet cat became psycho, attacking the dog like he was a meal.
The dog had no idea the cat had learnt to fly so fast, using razor sharp talons as wings.
The cat held on using all four feet, clawing at his back, legs, belly and, well, other things.
Shocked and dismayed, I jumped, I flew to calm this crazy, insane, deranged situation.
I grabbed the cat with both hands saving the dog from imminent castration.
Talons once meant for the dog now bore down into each of my tender fingers.
I screamed a scream not heard since the battlefields screams on Flanders.
The cat, I taught her to fly again, fly straight, like a dart, across the room into a wall.
I stood there, hands and arms covered in blood, the aftermath after the brawl.
After I’d stemmed the flow, washed and bathed and patched my many wounds up.
I staggered outside, my back was buggered too, to see the kelpie playing again, like a pup.
Oh man, not a scratch on you, so I hobbled back inside, hobbling and holding my head.
There asleep, purring peacefully not sore at all, were the kittens and their mum, upon my bed.
Did they learn a lesson not to go near each other, to keep a look out, to always keep a distance?
Nope, not a thing, it’s me that learnt though, not to get involved for my own existence.
Categories:
kelpie, pets, soulmate, together,
Form:
Rhyme
Standing at the tavern door,eyes dark and brooding
Neath his floppy hat, stared into the crowded room,
A Raven flew from his shoulder settling in rafters high,
He smiled a sardonic smile and ordered a mug of ale.
All turned to look at this dark eyed traveller tall,
His leather boots dusty ,cloak trimmed with mud,
And from his belt around his coat hung a dirk long
No one thought to say a word they tried to look small.
Around the smoke filled room his gaze did wander
Settled on a crowd of rowdy sea going lads noisly
Drinking ale and rum and telling bawdy tales,
Just back from foreign voyage across the seven seas.
Within their midst a vision sat with a smirk on ruby lips
Long hair framed her face like waves of swelling sea,
Like kelpie mane, ran that hair ,her eyes like deep sea green,
And at once his dark eyes shone beneath that floppy hat.
The night wore on, the air grew warm, the raven fluffed his wings
From somewhere a shot rang out lodging in rafters deep,
Laughter raucous and shrill cut across the misty room,
Silence fell heavy among the gathered crowd.
He slowly turned his head in the direction of the rowdy lads
Dark eyes flashed as stepped towards where they sat,
As one they rose and laughed in his face,swords drawn,
In his hand a wooden staff and they laughed no more.
Faces stunned into disbelief at what they had seen,
Around his feet six men lay still blood seeping from their wounds,
He turned on his heel and slowly went through the door,
The Raven cawed, spread his wings as he flew out the door.
Standing by his horse the sea going beauty waited patiently,
She smiled as he approached with a swagger and dark eyes flash
He tipped his floppy hat and beckoned with outstretched hand,
She went to him in full embrace held him like a band.
They travelled the land, the sea faring beauty and the dark eyed man,
Their tale told throughout the fair sun kissed land,
From village to village and taverns where seafaring folk met,
The legend grew of the Dark Eyed traveller and his mermaid bride.
Andrew Provan McIntyre © 2015.
Categories:
kelpie, adventure, analogy, beach, drink,
Form:
Ballad
Indiana, you’re my most special friend,
My friend who waits patiently throughout every single day.
You know, I still can’t comprehend
How you rip and destroy my pillows whenever we play.
You run, you fetch, you climb and you chase,
Then “sit” and “stay” and “gets back” like the kelpie you are.
I admire that focus in your workplace
And that you love going to the farm in the back of the car.
And then the food, Indie, you’re like an ogre
That breathes in a meal because you can’t wait.
Devouring food like a bulldozer,
Indie, it’s not a race to have a clean plate.
Indiana, you’re my special friend in red,
That has his own mind, but does exactly what he’s told.
That sits beside me in this old shearing shed,
Tough enough not to care if it’s too hot or too cold.
Categories:
kelpie, best friend, dog, friend,
Form:
Rhyme
Kelpie eyes.
Water horse,
Drag me under,
On your back.
Fingers and mane entwined,
Eyes wide.
Mouth gasping.
Water rushing.
Blurry periphery,
Extends its reach.
Dark, dead eyes.
Categories:
kelpie, animals, death, life, loss,
Form:
Free verse
They are forever among us, the diaphanous spirits
Seeking the elan vital of the cycling centuries
Running from necrosis, paying a mortuary tribute
To the killing fields of a nearby Roman Spring
Living in a somnolence stupor,melting and passing
An unpleasant drug experience, leaving me balanced and barmy
Rambling and reasonable, a maddened muss
Euphoric, almost transported, putting the cold petals to my lips
I have let the water rise again, swimming alone, except for my tea set
Along the hookah, amongst the mermaids and the kelpie
Can I stay? Stay here away from the lusus naturae, upsetting the gossamer webbing?
Stay low and quiet, don't breathe, don't ..... breathe
Who's there? Possibly Diablo Dybukk, oh, nervousness and dissatisfactions
Ah, beautiful malaise, venom frosts my skin like and angel in the ashes
Loopy loops and swirly swirls, pink and blue buttons attend my young heart
Kadydids scream through the air of forgetfulness and nymphs
The Land of Nod awaits my finis release, something better than death
No more rickety bridges ready to collapse
Take stock in this newfangled Kingdom Come
The muck of my yesterdays I have relinquished to the waterfall south of Jupiter
Categories:
kelpie, angst, forgiveness, imagination, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
I have a blue cattle cross kelpie
'A working dog' they say
But Jake doesn't work
He eats and sleeps
Then runs away.
Jake is mischievous
and some people say
Jake is a dumb mutt
But from a proud dog-owners mouth
I wouldn't have any dog but...
My Dog Jake.
Categories:
kelpie, animal, dog,
Form:
Rhyme
SCOTLAND'S MONSTER DINNER
walking upon the moors of Scotland i saw a sprite who
became a unicorn -- she mated with Kelpie: kissing
therianthropy --> she rode the unicorn: shedding her skin--
saltire!
I when to Restaurant Andrew Fairlie --
manager said someone got mutilated late last night -- upon the
moors of Scotland! Oh no!
Glad I ate Haggis! Sean Connery in drag -- like a werewolf
kissing Gerard Butler. Princes Street spending howls
shopping in the street in the capital! Edinburg makes
nice suits and covers all things of humans and beasts. but i
prefer Lothian Road in the west; near Leith Street! In the east!
oh ah Aaoooooo!
Like Lon Chaney drinking a pina colada!
:: 09.09.2020
Categories:
kelpie, allusion, scary,
Form:
Free verse
Duncan MacAlpin thoughts were disturbed
Beauty he had seen in Crovie
Had stolen his heart with one look.
Her face a map of Scotland.
Where would I begin to look for her? He wondered.
Mercury smirked, for He had already arranged everything.
In rivers, marshes, swamps, bogs, the wetlands…..
Duncan blinked; had he heard his favorite Celtic deity?
A shiny black kelpie seventeen hands high appeared.
Standing between Duncan and the ocean.
Duncan instinctively knew he had to get on his back.
He had not ridden a horse since the Gallic War.
Why are you hesitating? The transmigrated kelpie asked.
Not in words, but in telepathy.
He knew kelpies are able to manipulate your thoughts,
so he hesitated a little longer, wondering who was in charge here.
Did you want to see the lass again or not?
The kelpie fairly flew once he was on his back.
Took him to Kirkcudright where he tossed him into a flower bed.
A girl came running out to see if he was all right.
It was Adaira McFallen, the girl he had seen in Crovie.
He could not believe it. His faith in kelpies more vivid than ever.
She too worshipped the sun, moon, and stars,
and believed in the transmigration of souls. A match made by Mercury.
Categories:
kelpie, ireland, love,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Bawling fog horns
shake scales from tiled rooftops.
Spume and brume
spray momentary mountains
over submerging sea walls
From the pub on the harbor front,
we hear the buffeted gulls cry
as they fly
on the sluice of passing squalls.
"Look out the window," you say
(the window is a hundred pieces
of sky caught in a fish-eye).
I shout into her whisper:
‘No boats will fish today,’
but we both know
that there are small boats out there;
they call out like stray cows,
kelpie leading them through gray teeth.
Categories:
kelpie, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Do not stop to dip your toes
or heaven knows to swim
within this sea of winds
where waves are whipped to horses ears
and tails of white among the foam
foolish child go home
retreat, and walk no more
upon this wild and lonesome kelpie shore
Categories:
kelpie, myth, mythology,
Form:
Free verse