Hamlets Poems | Examples

hiku 1

        sans jurisprudence
 in hamlets rife with whimsey ~
            poetic license

            29 Aug 2025

Fishermen of the Isles

no cowboys in stock on this side,
but acrid fishermen provide 
marine lifelines, hamlets sustain.
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain.

pre-dawn cowboys of Waves arise 
early wranglers trawl for the prize 
through murky waters or in plain. 
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain.

catches of chub, snapper, and sword 
concoct dinners we may afford.
praise the fishers, saddled with strain.
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain. 

rank as sins, veiled in ocean scum
nets shoulder-slung, descendants come
off the tides, firm ground to regain
Spineless seas they ride, shark's terrain.

THE TRAIN JOURNEY

TRAIN TRAVEL

I am on a superfast train
Listening to the soothing refrain,
Of the wheels on the railway track
Clickety clack, clickety clack.

Verdant vistas on either side,
Soothing visions during the ride.
Hamlets and villages flash by,
Little children waving "Hi"!

Fields of wheat and sugarcane,
Glistening from recent rains.
No pollution, no blaring horns,
No impatience or faces forlorn.

The catering staff wend their way,
Distributing food on trays.
We tuck into a hearty meal,
Get a satiated feel.

Chat with fellow travelers,
Some sober, some revelers.
Each with different tales to tell,
Caught up in a magical spell.

Halting at railway stations,
Quaint outposts of the nation.
The aroma of frying food,
You simply cannot elude.

Idyllic this train travel,
Just unwind and unravel.
Far away from stress and strain,
Modern life's eternal bane.

Stretching on my berth, relaxed,
Languidly just laying back,
Till I reach my destination
I'll admire Nature's creations.

THE TRAIN JOURNEY

TRAIN TRAVEL

I am on a superfast train
Listening to the soothing refrain,
Of the wheels on the railway track
Clickety clack, clickety clack.

Verdant vistas on either side,
Soothing visions during the ride.
Hamlets and villages flash by,
Little children waving "Hi"!

Fields of wheat and sugarcane,
Glistening from recent rains.
No pollution, no blaring horns,
No impatience or faces forlorn.

The catering staff wend their way,
Distributing food on trays.
We tuck into a hearty meal,
Get a satiated feel.

Chat with fellow travelers,
Some sober, some revelers.
Each with different tales to tell,
Caught up in a magical spell.

Halting at railway stations,
Quaint outposts of the nation.
The aroma of frying food,
You simply cannot elude.

Idyllic this train travel,
Just unwind and unravel.
Far away from stress and strain,
Modern life's eternal bane.

Stretching on my berth, relaxed,
Languidly just laying back,
Till I reach my destination
I'll admire Nature's creations.

September

A beautiful day in September.
The air is breathing yellow,
Painting the leaves golden 
with each exhale.
Hues of autumn are unfolding,
Warmth and tenderness intertwine 
With sunlight spreading on tree branches.
There's merry laughter in the hamlets,
Their laughter merges 
with the sunlight laughing.
It is a reflection of 
September's joy.
Somewhere the song of summer is ending,
But what a gift it is to be able to live
In September's warmth, it protects me 
From all sadness.

SNOTINGHAM

From the unravelled and now exposed mystery 
Tales of leafy Nottinghamshire
And the dusty tatty books of  it's long history
Comes a tale 
You'd think it was just a jest
However, it is a fact and true
With hand upon heart and chest
I am telling you

Way back in time long before Robin Hood
And the Major oak
Was a mere sapling about to bud

A small settlement in a sunny green forest glade
Once lived a tribe
And built their huts
Working the land to survive
Their name
The Snot People.
Named after their chieftain Snotter
And the famous Nottingham was born

The Surrounding encampments
And Hamlets found it so funny
They laughed made fun and teased
''The Snotters''
It was just too hard, to believe

The Snotters 
We're op so embarrassed
And how poor Cheuften Snotter must have cried
For his name and his people
Were ridiculed for their true name
Had sadly been denied

So they had no option
But to change their name
From Sottinghamt to Nottingham
And no longer ridiculed
Or had to had to  bow their heads In shame


Peter Dome©2024.

Bells

Bells, bells, sound of bells fall now and then in my ears,
Their tone and timbre varying, sometimes singing, 
Sometimes jarring, sometimes rising to a sweet crescendo. 
Clanging and clashing, tinkling, and jingling

Every day I wake to the sound of the tolling of bells,
From the church steeple early in the morning,
A call to the parishioners to start their day,
In prayer and devotion to the Heavenly Father 

Each toll causing varied impacts, sad or sweet.
While wedding bells ring with a sweet melody
It is with great dread that we listen to the alarm bells, 
Cautioning and alerting men of some imminent danger.

As the funeral procession moves slowly down the streets,
With men treading in silence and the bells ringing a doleful tune,
Reminding us of the inescapable end waiting for each man, 
A foggy pain creeps through the alleys of the mind. 

Thus, the sound of bells through ages has been rolling,
Through hills and vales crossing hamlets and towns
Either whispering a sweet tale or forewarning an omen
Producing timeless echo, vibrant and resonant in the eons of time!

Farolitos, Luminarias

Farolitos: lanterns of candlelight;
Luminarias: outdoor fires of pine.
Both light quiet path on a Christmas night
for Mary and Joseph, old ones define
messages that the new babe is divine.

A candle in sack borrows from the two:
a delicate, hanging Chinese lantern, 
and small fires left as a signal, in lieu
of rocks and tree signs, which later we learn
prompted phones and texts that we now discern.

Small fires still left, but a radiant glow
of Farolitos light wall and pathway.
All over cities and hamlets they show
an amazing, yet reverent, display
of warm stillness that gentles end of day.

December 13, 2022
"A Christmas Special Poetry Contest"
by Emile Pinet

Too Many Roses

Too many roses

Those bloody roses, I weed in my garden
and around the house, but they keep coming.
The slightest crack in the pavement
up the roses spring, ruining the walkway.
Unstoppable blowing raspberry who tries 
to stop their advance.
When a blue weed tries to find a sunny spot
they are replaced by roses.
History is written by red roses, for whom
 A weed is a nuisance and should be cut in half.
Tiny hamlets are strangled by perfumed roses 
The local weeds have to live up the hill.

Long Angelus Is Silent

A is an E without the O'w
someday F'ing comes 
others upon G loomy days

  Everything taken but 
the violence of the purple
violent eyes of her
own SCREAMS high heart 
and below oh supreme vowels
of  cerebellum Hamlets

long angelus is silent...

:: 12.21.2021 ::

Long Angelus Is Silent

A is an E without the O'w

someday F'ing comes 

others upon G loomy days

  Everything taken but 

the violence of the purple

violent eyes of her

own SCREAMS high heart 

and below oh supreme vowels

of  cerebellum Hamlets

long angelus is silent...

:: 12.21.2021 ::

Treasures To Walk

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

Warm Even When Its Cold

These moors and hills bring the Yorkshire chills.
Beauty and awe combined galore
Open skies fill these Yorkshire eyes
Something magical can be seen here in these mists so still

The folk here that can call this home
Some feel it in their blood and the shire will always call them home.
Hamlets, villages, cities and towns with many dialects creating many beautiful sounds.

Dry stone walls with so many steeps and falls
Ancient woods with their ancient tales and moon light calls.
Footpaths that go on over crags and dales. 

Celtic tones in its history winds, Nordic change see the blood lines thinned.

But there’s no other place on earth that can claim this majesty. A nithering wind they may allus be! But Ow-do and Si-thi we’ll say to thee.

Yorkshire is warm even when it’s cold. My heart will be forever a Yorkshireman’s in a Yorkshire soul.

A Life Force

O wind, a life force travelling wide and far.
     I dip down to oceans and ruffle the sea,
     O how happy to meander, to feel free.
I access mountains and revere every star,

Hearken to me as I gust so far and wide,
     I veer towards valleys, all verdant fresh grass,
     Pass quickly through some mountain tortuous pass.
My unchained melody over white clouds ride.

I love to see eagles fly on currents warm
     Visit hamlets, villages, communities,
     Admire all, their toil and opportunities.
Watch over small birds evading a big storm.

How I prefer the fragrant countryside ways
     But I must also travel to frightful towns
     Where many sadly live with their ups and downs.
There, sweet lovers are happy and their God praise.

Cityscape

Skyscrapers due to migration of folks
From villages and hamlets in strokes
Vehicular pollution due to crowded roads
Daily increasing are cars and mopeds
Gardens and greeneries like oasis
People smoking while walking
Some are drinking in artistic bars
Promotional pics and hoardings
No serious thought on health
Cities and metros full of poison
I feel there as if choked
Apartments capitols and concrete
Jungles without trees so pathetic
Shameless ads posing nudely
Driving harsh and so rudely

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