Isles Poems - Poems about Isles

Your needs unmet and, too, mine equally fulfilled,—I s’pose it’s best to leave this where it stands.—what other course could feel as fair? But deep disturbances in mon esprit, increasingly violent unto me, (as roaring winds and foaming omens) stir tidal wave emotions without compare;— breaking—in terrific fatality. My heart adrift,—stranded soon on your shore,— beats weak, throbs sad sobs, sniffles back such...

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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...

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Shetland Isles Above Barley, Clouds Dance Enchantingly. Flooding Glorious Hills In Jubilant Kaleidoscope. Lending Motion, Natural Opulence, Peacefully Quiet. Ranges Slumber Tranquilly, Undisturbed. Vibrant. Wheat Xylan Yellow. Zetland. ...

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Rain! A torrent of feeling Crashed down. The sky splits open, The world is a swirling storm. But wait… From the heart of the blackness, A spark, A light, Pushing through. A sail! Through the storm’s fury, Hope glides in. Reaching, reaching Through the waves of rage. The ship, A vessel of promise, Fighting for daylight. Sailing! Cutting through, Across the dark water. Towards a distant horizon, The unseen land… An island of truth. It’s the moment we all...

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I've wandered many islands, Seen countless shades of blue. But none compare, my friends, to where The glass and lace ring true. Let me paint you a picture, Of Murano's fiery art, And Burano's rainbow houses, That set these isles apart. Murano's furnaces blazing, ...

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Laid bare far beyond civilizations glare, sank the ever-defiled bowels of a forgotten lair. Nameless, voiceless and visually uncertain, a silhouette hidden behind an ebony curtain, as though it itself is unsure to pertain any what description of its own existential pain. It rots, an inexorable stench permeates the air. Behold the Titan whose...

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Spirit of the ancient isles, Of Erin and of Albion, I call to thee, Please come to us, Ancient spirit come to me, I call to thee, In moorland wind, And highland glen, In summer meadow, By Greenwood tree, I recall bluebells in spring, Autumn rains in Irish hills, Long winter nights by firesides, The places where the hidden brook glides, A deer in a forest glade, The Standing Stones...

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Clean up Needed In isle's 12 Through 24 & Understand This people Here 1 Has to clean up One's own mess Painful as that may be or seem Or to handle No excuses or exemption for anyone No matter who you are The same rules apply to everyone here Bar none Can't say fairer than that...

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I taste your desire" a strawberry mind blue muffin(casket walls of wet desire) breasts of isolated systems of dynamic mathematics by its numeral ills of base ZERO ... monolithic flowers swaying 1.61 degrees by beautiful deaths. GRIND() my pressure colored paintings weeping upon famous walls of museums and words dripping ink-words toward the masses. I weep. I...

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silent sea from afar glazed in admiral and arctic blue softly shifting to pointilism as it rushes to the rocky shore whilst sky in faded ivory and teal spells prelude to April rain rugged rocks in wild brush strokes like dripping ink of British tan and dark khaki blended in tawny and ecru are luminous glossy gems cascading from celestial source like my streaming teardrops as I...

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By day six I was antsy Stayed in my room all morning I knew this would happen While the glass-shatter of the ocean waves And yelps of surprise from scores of little kids Drifted in Through my opened balcony doors From the beach below Made the mistake of paying attention to my phone And the more I did It seemed The more emails dinged Like an elevator...

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The former blond model pouts and primps Swinging her hips Down the splashing catwalk of shoreline Sand caving to her imagined heels Wheeling to her awaiting Israeli mogul Her shoulders set so far back It’s as if she’s walking backwards Puts herself square Between Him And another thin woman Launches a laugh and offers salted peaches Wraps her skinny arm around The other woman’s string bikini of waist Holds...

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A big man Stands Roasted pink on the ocean beach Unleashing his gut over his bathing suit Holding a can of Miller Lite Surely a used car salesman in real life Shows off In front of a group of friends Lifts his free hand like the Statute of Liberty To a flock of hungry seagulls That swoop to his pinched fingers He laughs and laughs “Those dumb...

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If your favorite color is green and of the Emerald Isles you dream, you might be Irish. If when you kissed the Blarney Stone you knew at las you were at home, you might be Irish. If you believe in leprechauns and fairies and hidden treasures that lay buried, you might be Irish. If you...

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when are metaphors not applicable as proof that they're existent when a person dies but remains here quite alive mute indifference...

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