In the dark of night, upon a haunted gorge they rise.
Magpies serenade deep echo’s in aeolian shrieking shrills.
Under the great oak tree, a figure stands in the shadows,
a black cloak, boldly humming sonnets to the lost or lonely,
Her breath cooled by crispy mists.
Pouting misty tendrils dance; clouds blow long feted kisses;
Coyotes chant to a full moon their calls cut like the blade.
Vibrations shifting all about, nearby Kitty Jay’s old grave
shunned by the man she loved the server girl took her own
life in the muddy cañon hollows.
Sun chases wandering spirits; disappearing in the light of day.
Serenade songs of virtue, in swale dance the dew faeries.
And magpies shall soon return with a shrill just after
twilight to roost in the great tree above
the hidden grave of Kitty Jay.
Fresh flowers appear there nightly rest-not the outcast dead
of Dartmoor National Park.
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
O'Dowd
An old hunter by the name of O'Dowd
Shooting tigers for fun made him feel proud
Had trouble with his gun
There was no time to run
Now lies covered on a slab with a shroud..
Jed
There was a frisky old man known as Jed
Took red pills so he wouldn't end up dead
But his notes were misread
He got blue ones instead
Now no longer does he fall out of bed...
Meat Pie
You ever thought what goes in a meat pie
I'll tell you and its no word of a lie
See the finest of meat
Is stray cats off the street
So give it serious thought 'fore you buy...
The Milkmaid
A milkmaid worked on a farm on Dartmoor
Had long blonde hair and her skin was so pure
Late for work she did hurry
Failed to see some fresh slurry
She skidded and went face down in manure...
Surfing
Some young lads went for a surf in the dark
To them it was a just a bit of a lark
But in the moonlight
They had a great fright
When they spotted the giant fin of a shark...
Written 23 August 2020
a dartmoor pony
gallops into the bracken - -
an adder hisses
traditional haiku – I don’t understand the modern haiku yet…
for Sidney’s haiku contest
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.
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