Long Bagpipes Poems
Long Bagpipes Poems. Below are the most popular long Bagpipes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bagpipes poems by poem length and keyword.
Bagpipes conveying the delight
Of a country filled with insight
Swinging their kilts in accord
With their song of joy, so adored
They color the world in green
Appreciating the good queen
Awakening a world to glean
~
Gaelic poetry and prose will sigh
Through the echoes of a blue sky
That reminisce with kilts so bright
Laughter harmonizing despite
The blessed stanzas and rhymes
Poems alive with a joyful times
That focuses on more than crimes
~
The Scotsman has reported the fact
That we shouldn’t ever overreact
We should keep remembering the past
History and the mystery so steadfast
Lives that knew blessings to the hilts
And hearts that liked wearing kilts
Certainly never feeling swell of guilts
Scotland One Rule Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
March 2, 2021
On the Isle of Skye, water runs down the Cuillin mountains into waterfall streams
It's a beautiful and tranquil place
Where the local fairies live, play and dream
A red-bearded Scotsman walks from his village
He carries his beloved bagpipes in hand
He heads to the magical Fairy Pools
To play for the fairies hiding among the heather stalks growing in the lush green land
Clad in a kilt of dark blue and green
They know it's their friend that's come to play
His emotional bagpipe songs are the only things
That make them emerge from their hideaway
The fairies love the skirl of the bagpipes
It brings their soul delight
Their tiny wings flutter with joy and elation
While they surround him in flight
When he's finished playing, he reaches into his horsehair sporran
Hanging from his waist
To feed the fairies bits of wild-grown raspberries
They absolutely love their taste
He will come back to play for them soon on another day
They love their friend in the blue and green kilt
With his beloved bagpipes and the songs that he will play
We strolled hand in hand
along Naples cobbled streets
beneath nearly blown- off linen sheets
Hanging from old balconies.
Street musicians played their bagpipes
ciaramellas,mandarins
In this southern bustling city
where the crowd will never sleep.
Blessed by silent moments
in Duomo di San Gennaro
I knelt down on my knees
Prayed for health ,and for serenity
For strangers ,and for loved ones
who shared different beliefs.
At Da Michele pizza parlour
We shared pizza bites and laughter
Savoured different flavours, of pepperoni
King prawns and provolone cheese.
Fresh oregano filled the air with its pungent smell
on that once upon a summer breeze.
At Sunset,far from gothic abbeys we wandered
Through alleys walked,our lips touched and kissed
Next to lit antique street lamps
Our vacant eyes met,these hearts have been blissed.
A romantic getaway to Naples
New memories in making
Close to Michelangelo's masterpiece
Unveiling virtues and sins,without verdict
Creating on life's canvas, our oil -painting.
Sitting at the edge of the city
Facing the mediterranean sea
Its there where I see you
Arms wrapped around me
Gazing in distance
Watching the last boat
set sails to be free.
Tonight, like many other nights
Its there where I hear you
Soft whisper of a thousand melodies
Tonight, It is there where I'll find you
Oncemore in my dreams.
They sang themes to my ears
Making sounds so crude-
Like that of a wailing trumpet,
Hovering around the room-
As their ravenous taste for blood do protrude.
In the shade of darkness
They sang in unison,
Songs so horrendous calling for a prickly taste of blood.
We gassed the room-
Chased some around with broom-
And closed the shutters as we give way to slumber.
Not long do they come marching forth
Blowing their bagpipes-like men ready for combat
Whispering words of which none I could decipher.
The songs continued through the night,
How I wished they sang lullaby to my ears
And not songs that do cast fears.
How I wished I could ask them-
What joy they do derive-
Piercing their needles into our flesh?
So solemn their songs butchered the air
To chase them; to my ears land a ting of slap
Waving hands in the air for a momentary tap.
They've got just days to live
As science do proclaim,
Tiny little creatures raving through the night,
The taste of blood keeps them at sight.
To survive they must pierce through human flesh,
Leaving swollen hills upon our skins.
This song they sang;
A song of intimidation-
Calling out to others to attack-
From beneath the chairs and those hiding among the clothes on the rack.
They’re mournful at a wake or when
A person’s laid to rest,
Yet there are those who say their sound
Is something to detest.
But line them up and hear them played
By marchers wearing kilts
And suddenly you see the green
And hear those Irish lilts.
Oh, it’s a joy to witness
The St. Patrick’s Day Parade
And watch the bands from every police
And fireman brigade.
The pipers always lead the way,
Their plaintive notes on high;
The green-clad crowd applauds
As all the marchers pass them by.
I wouldn’t want to listen
To a bagpipe every day,
But on the 17th of March, I’m glad
I get to hear them play.
Exotic Lands
by Lori Maria Walton
The day,
nurtured in the belly of a
fearless night
turns and is finally born
clinging to the soft arms of a
pretty morning
The sun, dozing on the
heavy chest of exotic lands,
rolls
and is now awakened,
plowing a submissive face
with golden hands
Play the bagpipes,
while the tea and the toast and
freshly squeezed orange juice
seated spellbound
wait anxiously for the first touch
of honey lips
This day, as the morning
waits on the table for the first
touch of honey
hands and golden lips prepare
to explore the shores of life
Blended melodies ring
in attentive hollows
beneath the sea of passion
Form:
Conversing with a stranger
Is a New York City norm,
To comment on a situation
Or to just inform.
My chat with stranger #1
Took place as we observed
A tow truck hooking up a car
Which likely it deserved…
For it was parked illegally.
My stranger friend and I
Agreed that we would hate to be
The “where’s-my-car-at?”guy.
My next exchange took place
At the St. Patrick’s Day Parade.
A woman with green gloves enjoyed
A choice that I had made.
“I like your earrings – though they’re green,
They’re subtle, yet they say
I’ve got my Irish on to hear
The bagpipes holding sway.”
We chatted then ‘bout this and that
As bands came into view;
But what’s her name or where’s she live?
I haven’t got a clue.
What I love about the city is
The choice is ours to make –
Converse or blend into the crowd;
There isn’t much at stake.
Anonymity’s the rule
Though strangers, when connected,
May enjoy a conversation
Knowing nothing is expected.
Scotland, Scotland, it's time to be proud
Ode to St. Andrews with bagpipes the sound
England the bully without care for your needs
leaders will lead you to the freedom you seek
You voted as a nation to stay in the union
but your leaders refuse this legal conclusion
Elected by the people who voiced their desire
the majority of Scot's ignored all the while
Your leader doesn't care what the vote said
independence the on going thought in her head
you had a referendum your leaders ignore
think England's uncaring but your leaders are more
she simply continues
to bully within you
you're so fierce and so proud, oh Scotland defender
your leader is a leader with only selfish agenda
Soldier,
age 23,
interest in veterinary science.
Shot
back of the head.
Political affiliation
never mattered.
Lies still in an open casket,
draped over with an American flag.
How patriotic.
How patronizing.
Lover,
left of mother, right of father.
Me, observer,
bearing flowers.
Priest, front and center,
babbling on, reading
the same old retired lines,
dust to dust,
ash to ash,
and the like.
Bagpipes play.
Twenty-one gun salute rings out,
echoing in the hollow hearts
of family members.
I drop the newspaper containing
the boy’s obituary.
Can’t remember why I came,
wanted to pay respects.
The best thing a brother can do
is leave roses,
wilting like the paper beneath
my feet,
crumpling like his mother
on her knees now, crying.
I begin to cry, too.
Not for the boy,
more for the people who knew him.
Good man.
Too young.
Wanted to help animals.
Animals are probably locked in a cage
somewhere, yowling the same way
the ravens perched and pecking
at the ground are.
They are hungry for flesh,
the same way the dirt is,
the same way old men
who start wars are.
Nobody needs to die,
foolish, worthless, unnecessary.
The reward for a life well lived
seems to be a gravestone
with your name written on it
in a margin far too small
to capture the complexity
of what you stood
and now lie for.
What will they do
when there is nobody left to kill?
Weep?
As if they could.
The next time God floods the world,
it will be with the tears of the lonely,
and the vermin who made them feel
that way in the first place
will drown.
Angel flies overhead,
wearing uniform.
Hope lives on
even when the goodness
cannot.
Hope lives on
even when the goodness
cannot.
Believe that.
Please.
I know I will,
at least I will after I’ve finished
crying.
Lift me up to the sky by the notes
Oh, flute by your captivating melodious tunes
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
A lifeless journey is becoming meaningless
Let ears be the witness that it heard flawless
Beat your drums very hard on the sadness
And let this mind shed all its madness
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
Let the salty tears flow in rhythm
Let the eyes shed its entire burden
Let the neck move sideways at random
Make different pitches by using trombone
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
I don't care whether you're near or far
So long as I hear a song on guitar
Our childhood days I always remember
Running after butterflies or playing synthesizer
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
When life plays with me Odle ay ee oo
My mind demands to hear Didge rid oo
Oh the cuckoos, O Nightingale come to my concert
We shall play tonight violin and trumpet
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
Cicada, cockroach and cricket
Let us have a singing competition
Select your song and select your instruments
Banjo, bassoon, tuba, bagpipes, lute or clarinet
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
Look at the sky and see those stars
They are strangers and they are far
In the restless nights they play for me on sitar
I sing with them by playing my guitar
Sing to my body and sing to my soul...