William danced with daffodils
amidst his lovely Cumbrian hills
Penning poesy 'easy on the ear'
is why many hold him dear
Categories:
cumbrian, people, poetry,
Form: Clerihew
Brecon Beacons
for pony-treks
Cumbrian fells
& bubbling becks
Dartmoor
with rocks rain scarred
Lake District views
beloved of bards
Northumbria on moor & hill
where Roman echoes linger still
Stone-bridged hamlets
in the Dales
with enclosed leas along its vales
Snowdonia one thousand yards high
reached by slow trains up to the sky
Pembroke with its distant trail so long
heritages for us to protect & prolong
National treasures to preserve & enjoy
by rich,the famous &hoi poloi.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Categories:
cumbrian, nature,
Form: List
Highborn, regal Skiddaw
Such grace in one so high,
A countenance of majesty,
A fortress to my eye.
Looking down on all around you
Immense in all your might,
From your foot, we lift our eyes
To wonder at the sight.
Rising like a titan
From the verdant valley floor,
In splendid isolation
Heavenwards, you soar.
A transfixing, noble aspect
Such wonder you exude,
High and mighty Skiddaw,
A king, in solitude.
Entry for
YOUR CHOICE(5),
Any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
10/6/2019. Placed 2nd.
Categories:
cumbrian, beauty, mountains,
Form: Rhyme
Tracks stretch across
barren winter fields
yet their steel trace
like a snail's trail appears polished,
glinting in dying light,
stifling your breath,
towards a dark shed
doors creak
like a sprinter's graveled gasp.
However, birds don't sing
above the stretched tram lines,
you cannot speak
in jolting cattle wagons,
screeching their approach
fingers like frantic worms
drilling between their
wooden slats.
Then doors release
the cargo then funnels
into iron holding pens
in quick-step lines
each is tagged
prodded into wooden sheds
you're now in narrow single beds
tettering on sharp edges
lurking behind screens.
Pressing,
your warm flesh
on windows iced,
watch the blackbirds gathering,
as neatly labeled
gas canisters haze
like mustard seed
clouded in emerald mold.
Peppered panes
dusted by mottled-ash,
steamed by your breath,
shuddering into deeper tones.
Clutching
in Cumbrian wrestler grasp
your herded panic reverberates.
The rolling cloud cloaks
the silent sleeping earth.
Our final clench
is warm flesh on flesh
Categories:
cumbrian, war,
Form: Free verse
Brecon Beacons for pony-treks,
Cumbrian fells and bubbling becks;
Lake District views beloved of bards
Stone-bridged hamlets in the
Dales with enclosed leas along its vales.
Snowdonia ,one thousand yards high
reached by slow trains up to the sky.
Pembroke with its distant trail so
long,
heritages for us to protect and prolong.
National treasures to preserve and
enjoy by rich,...the famous ...and hoi poloi.
Categories:
cumbrian, beautiful, places,
Form: Idyll (Idyl)
There is a place that’s dear to me
Upon the rolling Cumbrian hills
A church without the need for prayer
Where Wordsworth saw his daffodils,
A place where poetry writes itself
With soft simplistic elegance
In words that dance and interplay
With timeless grace and sweet romance.
There is a song I love to hear
When memories are not yet dead
So far away, so crystal clear
It wanders softly through my head,
To make my dreams feel sanctified
Extraordinary as it seems
My song gives me the deep insight
That dreams are never merely dreams.
There is a moment that I need
When every motion fades away
A touch of newborn innocence
That signifies the coming day,
A pause before the rising dawn
When sun tied clouds have struggled free
To let my moment wander on
In search of what is soon to be.
Between the morning and the night
The sounds of life are dear to me,
Like waves that crash upon a shore
Or children’s laughter dancing free ,
But most of all my senses feel
The need for what is pure and true,
For every poem I ever penned
Is never more than ”I love you…”
Categories:
cumbrian, beauty, heaven, prayer, wisdom,
Form: Rhyme
Don’t take me unless to the cry of the hawk
Not supported or transported – just let me walk.
No matter that muscles protest and begin to ache
When clouds scud over the peaks and cast shadows across the lake.
Don’t take me if the foothills fail to season
Do not flower – or lie dormant – defying reason.
If the golden trumpets won’t rise up with the dawn
To follow the light till it’s time to droop again, and yawn.
Don’t take me in mid-winter unless of course it’s white
Glistening when the sun shines, eerie grey at night.
When owls flap silently through the wood of conifer tree
The frozen landscape aiding – their prey not getting free.
Don’t take me in the autumn until the first leaves fall
Not on the paths of the tramping feet of visitors who just call.
Let me spring on soft needles of pine
Alone in the forest - alone with my mind.
I care not whether rain or wind should blow
Just always relishing the sheer purity of snow.
On the hills, in the dales – on the lake edges bare
Why - oh why am I not already there?
Categories:
cumbrian, places, me, autumn, me,
Form: I do not know?
Brecon Beacons for pony-treks,Cumbrian fells and bubbling becks;Dartmoor
with rocks rain scarred ,Lake District views beloved of bards.Northumbria, above
on moor and hill,where Roman echoes linger still.Stone-bridged hamlets in the
Dales with enclosed leas along its vales.Snowdonia ,one thousand yards high
reached by slow trains up to the sky.Pembroke with its distant trail so
long,heritages for us to protect and prolong.National treasures to preserve and
enjoy by rich,the famous and hoi poloi.
Categories:
cumbrian, nature, places,
Form: Prose Poetry
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Once a year ower the Cumberland show,
Livestock, ter an' fro, ter an' fro.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Gypsies, jockeys, towns’ folk alike,
Appleby 'orse-fair awwer the dyke.
Red, Green, Yellow
Scotland has i's 'aggis, Lancashire i's ho' pot,
We 'ave uz sausage an' tha' does uz lo'.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Ice-cream a' Allonby shiftin' ter Silloth on sea,
Righ' round Wes' Cumbria an' back yam fur scordy, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Up a' five an' ou' a' dawn,
The 'aaf-ne' fishers, early morn, like eh.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Keswick, Caldbeck an' Seascale too,
All the visitors passin' through.
Red, Green, Yellow
There’s Por' Carlisle on the warl,
People comin' yan an' all.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Categories:
cumbrian, animals, history, life, people,
Form: Ode