Best Ramblers Poems

’Tween hither and thither we wended our way
skipping, dancing through sand dunes, in seascape croquet.
While woven in waves watching dolphins at play
I first tasted her...

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Wobbly bits , Hairy bits and dangly bits galore
So if you're feeling squeamish
Draw your curtains and lock the door
For today is the day in Yorkshire...

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There once was a poet named Jan
Who was looking to find a new man
Joined the Naked Ramblers Association
With little or no hesitation
Now I’m swinging as...

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Moss covered algae ridden
Memorials, to mans earthly existance
Stand ivy clad in rows
Names eaten away by time
and dates long gone 
all faded into one. 
No flowers...

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Virgin wasteland un-trampled

	Rugged terrain in front of my step

		I am resting as not to set foot

			In the rugged scape of magic


A screen of thistles ramblers...

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When I spotted Saint George in a van,
I feared that his horse might be lame.
Or worse, in a Doggomeat can,
when hurt in some chivalric game.

Saint...

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This is my best story in 
my mother tongue urdu 
which I translated and 
tried my best to turn it 
into a poem in english...

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IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA 
BASE FORTHWITH.
ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, 
SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS,...

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RAIN
                        ...

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I met a guy from the ramblers today
I think his name was John
He was a harmless bloke I suppose
But he just went on and on...

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An unpretentious wild flower
Peeped out of the crannied stone ledge
A peach coloured blossom
With bright yellow stamens around her navel

She had an exquisite charm
With a seductive...

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Walk in woods enriching and serene
Draws gratitude quieting garrulous mind

Tranquil forests of breathtaking peaks
Whisper softly building profound links

Soaring trees of Oaks, Conifers and Ponderosa Pines
Form...

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(* This I wrote after my previous poem "GODS QUESTIONS", as I felt that it was a more realistic and honest way in which we...

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My Last Las Vegas C.E.S. (1)
(A Memorial Poem)
I long counted Steve Bristow a friend (1) and we'd fly off to lunch
some days (Steve would get...

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Secret lanes spiral 
taunting mystic ramblers whose
fantasies spur restless feet
to wander dream plots
that shift like sands to driven 
Psyches on infinite quests 
for sheds or...

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