Long Brae Poems
Long Brae Poems. Below are the most popular long Brae by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brae poems by poem length and keyword.
When I look up at the pristine Colorado sky,
And see flocks of Canadian geese on the fly,
And watch squirrels hide their winter's fare in a secret cache,
Then I know that once again a glorious autumn is on the way!
When the harvest moon graces the sky with its lustrous glow,
And at dawn I see Pikes Peak gleamin' with a dustin' of snow,
And view the golden leaves of aspen trees upon the distant brae,
Then I know that once again a glorious autumn is on the way!
When the old ash tree on my lawn assumes its robe of amber,
Anon, strewin' the lawn with fallin' leaves t'wards late September,
And see golden punkins with a tad of frost at dawnin' of the day,
Then I know that once again a glorious autumn is on the way!
When the nights are cool and I need an extra blanket on the bed,
And note that the robins and all their friends to the south have fled,
And when I see anxious farmers harvestin' taters, corn and hay,
Then I know that once again a glorious autumn is on the way!
When apples are ripe for pickin' (after the worms have had their share),
And I've stored the lawn mower and at last can enjoy my rockin' chair,
And I sense that Old Sol is risin' later and settin' earlier every day,
Then I know that once again a glorious autumn is on the way!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
I woke up the owls time,in the lurid lighting of moon
Pendulous stars and the cloud of maroon
A lady with a viol croon; dances the nox
Odours of opiate from the nearing phlox
Smelt by the lethe;quaffed the nectar
Time within time,how can you alter?
Trottoir we walked to the willow garden
No more fonder merely it's nature-harden
Startled at the stillness of swinging rope
Once we wont to loll and part our hope
Yore the songs of thrushes and harebell; dreary
Scarcely I felt,I ever felt your clench so weary
Sullen brae upon the droughty day
I pass over,over the mountain way
The comply of yours was a good resting tavern-
Then of me,now merely the voided cavern
Day within day,how can you be so far?
I see you in the silvern Luna with a fare star
I woke up the owls time,in the drizzle of summers June
Dances the nox; a lady with a bassoon
Lo' beneigh' the random bield, bewails upo' the leaf
An' lea'e me naught but grief and pain, as moone breaks through the heath
Upo' the gilded braes we kissed, luve sang a zephyrs cry
Where say, my luve, o' fare thee weel, till a' the seas gang dry
An' bleak October winds ensue, beneigh' the furrow's frost
The sacred lowe, o' week-plac'd love...o' lost my sweet betroth
Yea withered ere', lies mist and bleak, an' mine an empty hand
With sword in hand, yea wander'd far, monie a ravished land
Och! Fated arrow pierced my heart, cauld by thy warrior's blade
Thy sun has waned, the bluid has poured, so boldly o're the glade
Death oftly feared, tho fear naugt more, so deep within my breast
O' do thou kindly, lie him low, upo' this mound of rest
Whase only faut was lovin thee, my tears in dust, my luve is deeply laid
Immortal I lie down 'ere now, lockt in thy arms, upo' the gilded glade
__________________________________________________________________________
beneigh (beneath)
bield (shelter)
bewails (weeps)
heath (meadows)
gilded braes...(golden hills)
lea'e (leaves)
naught (not)
luve (love)
a' (all)
gang (going -gone)
sacred lowe (sacred vow)
monie (many)
cauld (cold)
bluid (blood)
o're (over)
upo' (upon)
whase (whose)
faut (fault)
'ere (here)
lockt (locked)
_________________________
Come admiration in lush
The pleasure that make you blush
Of becoming dear to your crush
I need to talk to you
It signals the pit to woo
Which one endlessly pursue
J wish this is to Him your mind
The pleasure breed loyalty to find
No bluff in the faith admired
Think of the panic
That gives in without manic
Even not minding how acerbic
Toast His distress
The holy protection on the cross
That delivers your peace
The deep breath
Which activates salvation's birth
Via his brutal death
What is right
Easy but seems tight
Earn never without fight
Who live without life
Jesus' salvage cum strife
Thrive not without thinking afterlife
He is the way
On which you find brae
Follow on cum grey
He gave out His best
Fight and beat your chest
To never rest till you rest
For there will be no grace
After the earth's race
Hugged by your own trace
I have been a member of The Soup for over 10yrs now and have seen poets the I have come to love and respect disappear one by one, for reasons I do not know. I know there are many reasons of us losing our great poets, But I find it sad just the same. So I decided to make songs from some of their poems in Honor and Appreciation of having them as friends and fellow Poets.
The First Tribute is to the very talented
Robert Andrew Lyle
In The Poem titled:
Homesick
From the Faughan river valley
To Binevenaghs mighty brow
I love these roads to travel
Wish I could tread them now
To in an instant be propelled
Landing on that grassy slope
That overlooks Magilligan strand
Would be my greatest hope
To take the road to Donnybrewer
And walk down by the Foyle
To see the fields of Kerrs Pinks
Where my father used to toil
To listen to the Corncrake call
As it hides in the long hay
How many happy times were spent
Trying to glimpse her on my way
When you’ve walked up Kilnappy brae
You’ll hear your legs complain
Saying don’t you ever try to
Bring us up this way again
The walking up can wear us out
But when we turn around
The view that lays before us
Will never fail to us astound
The beauty of the patchwork quilt
Of fields enclosed with stone
The distant hills of Donegal
That was my parents’ home
I miss not just the countryside
My family I miss dear
Many times I’ve spent just wishing
I was there or they were here
Copyright © Robert Andrew Lyle | Year Posted 2014
What is it then that holds us in its grasp
For fear has fled and love too long denied
Restrains itself within the hour of taps
Binding itself to latent tears uncried
For time will pass among the stoic stones
Count cadence for the passing hood and scythe
As leaves of broken dreams that hang alone
Cling to failed promises of coming home.
So does the weathered scarf of tartan pain
Conceal the graying edge of times disdain
Soft colors bleeding through the moors and brae
Inflame the sunrise wish to come, to stay.
For those who rest beneath this solemn earth
Are those who bore the colors, gave it worth.
John G. Lawless
1/31/2020
MON TESA MON ARRIVING TO END MY LIFE AND RESUME MY IDENTITY OVER THE CARRIBEAN CONCERT WATER TREATMENT FACILITY FOSS PARK WHERE THE FBI WIRED INFORMANTS AFRICAN FESTIVAL 1988 THESE KILLERS WAITED UNTIL AUGUST 2003 TO MURDER ME HERE IN TAMPA BY GODS GRACE FREDLOCKS INTERCEPTED MY ASSASINATION BY GATHERING 5 VIRGIN ISLANDERS HIDING IN WASHER DRYER AND A REFRIGERATOR ON A WHITE TRUCK OPENING FIRE ON RASTA ANDREW YAGA HIS QUEEN PIN TONI HER DAUGHTER JHORE JOHNSON DRIVING HIS TAHOE PARKING AT MY DOOR WITH HIS GLOCK JHORE BELIEVED SHE COULD EXTORT. MY DISABLED AMERICAN POETRY BECAUSE I WORKED FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FROM JUNKSICK COPS I WASN'T THE ONLY INFORMANT UNDER SPECIAL AGENT LEROY HEIMBACH APPEARENTLY MON TESA MON WAS TO IMPERSONATE ME IMPERSONATING AN FBI INFORMANT IN ORDER TO HAVE ME MURDERED THEY ACTUALLY ALTERED MINE AND MY GIRLS PASSPORTS TO FLEE TO CANADA WITH FREDLOCKS AND THE DEADMANS DAUGHTER KADIE IN CANADA JAMAICAN KING PINS ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE CHILD BRIDES YOUNG MULES OPERATION MONGOOSE MON TESA MON TRANSPORTED KADIE THE DEAD MANS DAUGHTER FROM TAMPA TO CANADA TO JAMAICA WHERE SHE HID WITH KINGPIN FREDLOCKS BREEDING UNTIL THE WAILERS LEAD PLAYER ARRIVED JOHNSON AND JOHNSON LOCATED FRED AFTER ONGOING ROOTS ON HIS LIFE FEARING FOR HIS LIFE OFCOURSE THEY FINALLY KILLED HIM HE BASICALLY ABDUCTED THE DEADMANS DAUGHTER AFTER KILLING HER FATHER WITH SPECIAL AGENT LEROY HEIMBACH ON IN MY DRIVE WAY BY THE TIME KADIE WAS LOCATED THREE KIDS HIDING IN A HUT LINSTEAD JAMAICA MARTHE BRAE RIVER POSING AS FREDS WIFE OPERATION MON TESA MON DIED WITH FREDLOCKS I HAVE PEACE MY KILLERS ARE NO MORE I WILL NEVER FEAR THE JHORES THEY LEFT BEHIND IT'S REALLY A NO BRAINER WHY THE WATER TREATMENT PLANTS ARE BEING ATTACKED REMEMBERING FOSS PARK WATER TREATMENT FACILITY FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION ARLINGTON HEIGHTS ILLINOIS SUBSTATION LAKE MICHIGAN TO GITMO SWEEPING SPECIAL AGENT ROBERT LEVINSON TO KISH ISLAND INTO EXILE THÈ INFORGIVEN YEMEN
ON LIKE CHICKEN BONE
BROWN FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION ARLINGTON HEIGHTS ILLINOIS
Sullen would be onset of grey, indivisible-dawning;
Soon, lifting mist dissipating beneath the brae.
Comes then a gentle heat arising with the morning...
Thus the remaking of another new, glorious day.
Sun-kissed slopes now aglow with purple blaze,
Vast moorlands slowly stirring from quiet slumber;
Clamorous whaups, hanging above the veiling haze,
Burbling down to disappear into the tangled tundra.
Together, paired oystercatchers pipe in rapid flight;
Skipping wheatears explore dry-stone walls.
There, old Barjarg, aglow in Junes vibrant light,
And I awakening to the hidden otters whistling calls.
Oh! to stroll once more upon the Cree's hallowed banks
Inside the sanctuary of her jealously guarded hills.
When tramping through the myriad of dew-drenched ranks
That had across the sheep-strewn meadow spilled.
If I but could joyfully follow the meandering course,
Again, of those rocky, gurgling, opaque, amber waters.
Thoughts, such as these, that surrender to a remorse...
Nought but wistful memories that provoke to taunt us.
Who or what was this Gretna Green? I oft' did ponder
And English heroine or a fetching greensward? I oft' did wonder!
I learned on my bewildering computer and with my 'cyclopedia at hand,
'Tis a village amid the brae and heather in the South of Scotland!
The Scots are renowned for their haggis and kilts of tartan plaid,
The elusive Loch Ness Monster and the finest whiskey to be had!
Lesser know is the village of Gretna Green and its colorful past,
Where hordes of couples fled to wed without being harassed!
In 1754 the Brits passed A Marriage Act that changed the town forever,
Decreeing if under age twenty-one, from their folks they could not sever.
Soooo, if neither could obtain the necessary parental consent,
Off to Gretna Green they'd elope - this grave restriction to circumvent!
Gretna Green is the first town just north of the English border.
There, lovers fled to unite their lives sans parental warder!
The blacksmith on a road called "Headless Cross" was their destination;
There, an "anvil priest" legally hitched them up with little hesitation!
The "anvil" has since become the symbol of Gretna Green,
Since at the blacksmith shop is where eloping couples would convene!
There, the "anvil priest" "forged" a union that each did cherish,
Leaving enraged mums and dads seething back in the local parish!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
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 their eerie battle call,
where shadow soldiers groan and splay
upon the hazy, darkened brae.
As well, the loose of blood and spate,
to curse the earth and consecrate,
the peat to quench; the land emboss,
forever running red the moss.