Isle Poems | Examples

Isle of Pigs

Alone the demon sleeps–
Alone the demon weeps.
Last night mother died–
Last night father cried.
Yet here I sit by the windowsill,
Watching the doves fly by.

Down the Isle

Down the aisle, a princess draped in grace,
Tracing dreams upon silken white,
A smile, a beacon of love’s caress,
Yet shadowed whispers steal my light.

Down the aisle, a tale unfolds anew,
Of devotion woven, steadfast and bright,
Where laughter dances, where grief holds true,
Yet love remains, an eternal rite.

As I gaze, your radiance near divine,
Each step dissolves what once was mine,
And with the echoes of your vow’s decree,
Tears unfurl their silent plea.

Down the aisle, you crown his soul,
A victor claimed—his heart now whole,
While mine, adrift in sorrow’s wake,
Plummets deep as dreams forsake.

Farewell, princess, lost to fate,
May joy's embrace time consecrate,
As I depart, a wounded shade,
Yet wishing love for all you’ve made.

This Sceptred Isle

In 1773 the sun never set
on the British Empire so goes the story
now the 'Teatime Islands'
crumbs of Great Britain’s former glory
but as the moon rose over the White Cliffs of Dover
standing guard at the Gateway to England
ramparts the enemy to forestall
if the ravens left the Tower of London
the kingdom itself then would fall
and Britain would rule Gibraltar
one of the Pillars of Hercules
so long as macaques inhabit the Rock
another of man's legendary absurdities
but should those Barbary apes depart
the British too will soon follow
and the Overseas Territory come apart
yet to save the primate population
Winston Churhill did insist
in the early days of World War II
reinforcing British rule would persist
to ensure the troop replenishment
he issued a directive September 1944
for five such females brought from Morocco 
to maintain the number at twenty-four
and so it seems my friend in the end
the continuance of this green and pleasant land
is in the balance and totally dependent on keeping
a certain breed of bird and Old World monkey on hand

Emerald Isle

Tipperary's a long way from here,
But the Emerald Isle's best beer,
Will enhance any ceilidh,
I wave my shillelagh,
With some Guinness, old Eire feels near.

The Lanyard - The Window Isle

-What is the failure key?
They imagine!
-What is wrong about that?
They do sleep on the job! That is the general idea!
-What is dream then?
A subconscious urge that yarns for non-aspiring unfulfilled reticent.
-Now what is non-aspiring?
Without mediocrity, some kind of ambition.
-Why is it needed?
They are absolutely needed to egress, as these are toxic like mothball!
-Did you ever try mothball?
Nope! Did you?
-Nope! I did not declare too!
I did! Is it not your problem?
-How so?


And so on.....
The lanyard is a verse: evangelical
"Finish what he started!"

I won a poetry prize to go visit the lake isle of Innisfree

I won a poetry prize to go visit the lake isle of Innisfree.
But I didn't wanna go, cuz there's nothing there I particularly wanted to see.
I hear there's just a clay-and-wattles cabin
with a bunch a bees a-blabbin'
and nine rows of beans, and that doesn't really interest me.

Lady from the Isle of man

A young lady from the Isle of man 
Writes limericks fresh from the pan
Queen of poetry Soup 
She shares her poop 
Watching the s..t hit the fan.


Your  Blogs. 

Dear Jan, place your Blog in the fire 
Sit back and watch it burn. 
You might attract one or two snowflakes 
But that is of little concern. 

Stay calm, stay cool, say nothing 
Let them have their say. 
For in the end like all snowflakes 
They'll gradually just melt away.

dragon from the emerald isle

Dragon from the Emerald Isle loved to take notes said Snappy.
Research was something that made him wildly happy.
He studied constellations, dinosaurs, extinct animals and stars.
Taking down notes in restaurants, strip clubs, churches and bars.

Strip clubs and churches? Does that seemed strange? I asked him.
He has to try and save the sinners right? Snappy said with a grin.
Dragon from the Emerald Isle is an eclectic kind of student guy.
Wish I was half as prolific as he is, said my friend with a sigh.

Monster Isle

The Mole Man
mastered the creatures 
down within

With tunnels leading 
to every major ciy
his goal was
to win

But the Fantastic Four
would not have it this way
They would devise a plan
to seize the day

Johny Storm, the Human Torch
would blaze up and melt the soft earth
trapping the creatures in
where they could cause no more harm

But what became of the Mole Man...
He too is trapped!
Let's just hope that we
have seen the last of him!

Lamlash

We fished off the pier in carefree days
when girls wore tartan trews.
In endless summer sun we’d laze
when Tommy Steele was “Singing the Blues”.

Now it’s saffron robes and no-take zones,
maybe coffee in the cafe at the pier,
replaced by ubiquitous mobile phones,
like conversation, things just disappear.

Kiss of the Planets

Jupiter and Venus meld like two canaries
Kissing in late February
In a black gap
Between mountainous sparkling beach hotels

As if
The planets have privacy in their own city alley

Sand in Miami
Warm as peach pie beneath our bare feet
A beach just for us
Bob and Kerri

What cosmic gale
Blew these names to our lunar sails?

The froth from ocean waves
Breaks
Like ghostly surfers of dull light
Riding the brink of non-existence

Swoosh and retreat

At the broken ankles of us
Silhouettes
Hobbling past prints in the mud

Sunny Isle Pier flinging her jeweled harpoon
To the starfish abyss

While we are gone
Our boys drive from Lansing to Denver
Forever-
More

They call from the highway and say they’ve discovered
Dark Side of the Moon
On the Plains in a blizzard of pebbles and stones

Try it, I say, while you watch The Wizard of Oz
Then you’ll understand the coming and going
Of our Universe

And all its tricks of sound and vision

Kerri
Pulls my face to her lips
Whispers, Kiss me
While we have this chance by the sea

Tomorrow
The two of us return home
To the zodiac space of our empty house.

Emerald Isle

The Emerald Isle lies misty green,
an ocean's gem, a land between
the water's edge and blue of sky,
her magic wonders seldom seen.

For those who know her can't deny
although, in truth, they wonder why
the Irish spin their wondrous tales
to friends and strangers, stopping by.

An Irish story never fails,
in all its glorious details,
to weave a world of fae and sprite
who hide amongst the woodland trails.

The little folks keep far from sight,
but if you're very still, you might
just catch one dancing, unaware,
when day is slipping into night.

As songs of evening fill the air,
listen close and tread with care,
with little folks about somewhere—
with little folks about somewhere.

The Fractured Isle

A desolate isle, where it hurts to smile
buried betwixt mists both eerie and vile.
Forever hidden amongst dwellers of an uncanny guile,
where those who chance stumble here, lost and senile,
art beckoned by a curious fear of no mortal description or profile.

Isle

A blind flight
above a brooding sea.

Dawn levers the darkness.
Ireland rising.
Whitecaps, bright tumbled cliffs.
Briny turf, moss-rooted walls,
wind-havens and cottages.
So green!

Tidal meadows run to dewy swards.
Patchwork pastures knitted to bogs.
Then the sodden towns,
oyster shell gables glisten like new peat.
Verdant hills raise rocky turrets.

In only minutes the far coast appears;
goose-gray Muir Eireann;
the land sliding westward.

Ireland will always be like this;
a gull bobbing between high waves.
now seen, now lost.

The Isle of the Dead

1 A land forlorn, 
in dark enclosed.
Cold and silent it lies, 
The land where no wind blows. 

2 Red shines the moon
And gray is the grass. 
Dark are the rocks 
That like teeth ring the silent shore. 

3 Silent creep the shades, 
Who like the fog do go.
The ground gives back 
No sound of their footfalls
For there is no sound--- 
No sound at all
In the Isle of the Dead. 

4 Bloody is the moonlight
And cruel is the grass that strangles. 
Terrible are the dark rocks 
That like  fangs line the dismal shore. 

5 Here my love went astray from me,
Here in silence trapped, gone away.
In darkness I rove and cry;
But no answer returns to me. 

6 Silent creep the shades, 
No sound they make, all passing me
And among them my love I see, 
And I cry to him to hear, to see 

7 But silent he passes me
For in that land, they can neither hear nor see
There is no sound---
No sound at all
In the Isle of the Dead.

8 A land forlorn, 
in dark enclosed.
Cold and silent it lies, 
A land where no wind blows---
The Isle of the Dead.

• Short Isle Poems
• Famous Isle Poems
• Best Isle Poems
• Read Isle Poems
• Long Isle Poems
• Isle Quotes