Glen Poems - Poems about Glen

In the sound of tonight, where the stars softly gleam, Glenn Hughes takes the stage, like a dream within a dream. With "Soul Mover" playing, the crowd sways in time, Each note a heartbeat, each lyric a rhyme. His voice, a river, flows with passion and grace, A sound of...

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Where the cold nights, the shadows blend, Glenn Hughes rises, a voice that transcends. With a soul forged in fire, he sings of the pain, Each lyric a journey, each note a refrain. From the ashes of rock, a phoenix takes flight, His heart laid wide open, a shining light....

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I know your life's been lonely Your hearts an open book Stay here with me darlin Give us one more look I'd give you the moon and stars If you'd turn back around to see If true love is what you're looking for Then please come back to me I've been here in your shadow waiting for your call Please my darling stay with...

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and in my dream the sun rises in a forest glen and a blue wren on a rock perches sings and leaning are the birch trees oh, I love the colorful wildflowers swaying and the water lilies twirling on a green pond where polished stones sparkle in the sun and golden fish can be seen beneath the water and I swim...

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Inevitably, the changing color, beckons to the ground, upon the earthly sediment, which churns with great resound. Supporting roots to wander, til the southern most sunshine yawns, the deepening reds and orange swirl around -- all around. Resting in the valley ferns and trees are intertwined, Basking in the sunlight, Solitude resides....

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Where sparking moss hides these loving magical creatures, Who come out and sit giggling on your pen. They swim and play in the green sweet river, Spring being their delectable their time of year. Bringing you joyous thoughts on translucent, rainbow wings. They gather around poets with spiritual, ebullient attitudes. If you have a fun fairy friend, then do a dance of...

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Doing an Irish Jig*** (To the music of The Bothy Band) ——— ——— So early in the morning, If you looked, you Couldn’t tell that I Was really awake, With my mind mixing Through an Irish hornpipe jig Beside pretty Peg And Tiddie Dunbar. After meeting in What seems...

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Hitchhiking Angel, twelve stringed harp, wandering spirit —Elk City wind (Tucumcari New Mexico: January, 2019)...

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Majestic, barren, rock-cropped braes ascend— Arrayed, green-clad, in heather, gorse, and fern— As mid-day, misty, dark’ning clouds descend To cold-embrace each soaring tor and burn. From heights unseen a torrent cascades free, Unfettered into deep Ben Nevis’ glen; Then onwards toward Loch Linnhe and the sea, Through sodden bog and brackened, stone-strewn fen. Though hidden from the eyes of those below, Ben Nevis’ surly...

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A gentle breeze sways the waters peaceful mirrored surface. Fading light weaves between the ripples, shadows dancing with a dichroic radiance. No wind whipped waves lashing the snow covered beach. No visitors skinny dipping in the icy cold depths of the loch. No sound of feast hunters scurrying through the undergrowth. The piercing eyes of the barn owl quietly staring, patiently waiting. No traffic danger lurking,...

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With distance in his voice, he traveled on the wind Guitar case for a saddle, to ride each beckoning whim A folk tale left untethered, his melody to claim Each song an affirmation —his legend to refrain (Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2020)...

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King of the Glen Back then when I was a swain, I pranced across the heath and strath. Hither and thither on a whim I’d skimmer, Through the bluebells, thistles, and grass. Back then, when men had ambition, Many of them were fools, I thought. Dancing about the dale in a shout, As if they were kings or something else. Back then. I was...

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The phantoms of Glen Affric call from deep within the histosol, where time and matter’s slow decay of misty glen and ancient fray, conceal Mackenzie ghosts in wait with weapons drawn to greet their fate of claymore blade; of Celtic cross, to shed the blood of William Ross, and stain the sphagnum bryophyte, his soul to cut and extradite. Amidst the whipping hilltop squall is heard...

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Over rocks, thru valleys, abundant streams drift Touches of sunlight sparkling on the banks Over years of perpetual flow the pathways enlarges Territories form, some disperse from the sands that shift Left alone to be, nature creates and destroys It has no envy, nor mercy, it survives over mankind Outlives history and will lay the fundamentals of the future We will not...

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RIDING THROUGH THE GLEN The friend of the poor, Robin Hood, Robbed every rich man that he could. Although breaking the law, It was something he saw As a process morally good. The Sheriff of Nottingham’s men, Chased the outlaw time and again. But their efforts all failed; Robin always prevailed. The scoreboard read “ten out of ten” 31st January 2019 Limerick 3 contest Sponsor - Joseph May...

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