Long Highland Poems
Long Highland Poems. Below are the most popular long Highland by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Highland poems by poem length and keyword.
On the Isle of Skye and Raasay
In eighteen fifty one,
The English Government army
Cleared Scotland's daughters and sons,
Cumberland burned their villages
To ensure cultural disappearance,
Was this Highland subjugation ?
Or Was this a human clearance ?.
There was a ban on tartan
And breaking the law you'd be libel,
If you spoke the Gaelic tongue
Or read a Gaelic bible,
With potato famine and poverty
And without the tartan regalia,
Scotland's most precious resource
Sailed for Canada and Australia.
40,000 cleared from the glens
Left clan chiefs to the land,
Turning them into landlords
And into an upperclass band,
Some crofters came to the meetings
To discuss the so-called fair rent,
Only to be tossed on boats
Like sheep being sent to their death.
But despite these human clearances
And loss of life by the ton,
They've had their final say
You could say they still have won,
The new world is heavily populated
With those of highland appearances,
To ensure we never forget
The highland and human clearances.
Within the common (all purpose room)
at highland manor apartments aye
daily encounter, one bewitchingly dreaded
fiendishly horrible, jeeringly loopy,
nap noopy, pugnaciously ravenous, talon
viciously wizened, xenophobic yeti, zapping
zeroing zillion zippers,
zoned Zuckerman alley bye
barred doors fate helplessly jury-rigged
sealed with with plaintive cry
no escape known to this man caught
in a deadly voodoo clutch,
thus doomed to die
ugly cannibalistic, frightful,
heathen rumors myopic eyes espy
alarmed at feeling trapped
akin to a wingless fly
tapping reserves of scape goat
coping techniques ingenuity,
which earned me moniker "fall guy"
where accursed cruel destined exit
from getting husked, issued
jagged lance like mandibles "hi
there unknown weekly reader", I
pray for super leftist
write hand man/woman to extricate
(via whipping up literary poetic fabrication),
then joining me to sing jai
(let victory prevail against killer odds)
perhaps summoning division
of British shiver rights phalanx,
hood reply with Hackneyed "oh kai"
springing surprise rescue,
sans swooping inside
this hermetically faux prison,
where Matthew Scott Harris doth lie,
yet realistic to accept my
demise without putting up
a good fight well nigh
but... if luck finds thee plucking this bard
(out maws of death) be treated to custom
ye will be rewarded with pie
ala mode enjoying a Quai
yet moment...yeah...fading hope...sigh!
October 16th, 2018, A Day At The Market With The Missus
Oft times zee spouse
lingers at select
supermarkets (Landis, Redners,
and/or Wegmans) without me
(figuratively) taking
all the time in the world
allowing this mister to reflect
alone (imaging tubby
a Norwegian bachelor farmer)
toying with this, that, or the
other writing project
sitting facing this
Macbook Pro laptop
within this one
bedroom apartment
comprising a quite
satisfactory unit, sans
Highland Manor Apartments
in the heart
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
reveling in solitude meditating, reading,
or trying valiantly to connect
continuity of words,
always pleasantly surprised
at finished product
(predominantly, asper
hashing out a poem)
with unpredictable captivating aspect
letting thoughts flow as they
may burst asunder
quickly keying
thee elusive threads,
albeit unconcerned
making a typing blunder
mainly focused on
barley distilling, coalescing,
and brewing alphabetic dunder,
when over zealousness
frequently setting wing
to literary creation, which
smug modesty, nonetheless
finds this scrivener to sing
(unwittingly premature
silent ejaculations)
joyus rapturous threnody,
whereat ring around the rosy
abruptly ends caused by
renegade doppelganger quisling
shell shocks yours
truly wear re: eyes
mimic pinball ping
experiencing short lived
(dramatic beaming effusion)
to plummet giving
little attention to proof read,
versus when I indiscriminately fling
an unpolished epistle of Matthew
riddled with glaring mistakes,
aye suddenly feel
embarrassed like a damned ding
bat reprimanding myself
and wrathful madness doth bring!
Highland heartache echoes in midnight air
In ruins the castle lies woebegone
Sadness reverberates so be aware
Lovers' painful lament in ghostly song.
Ruins are pervaded by history
Fiery affaire went totally awry
Highland metaphysical mystery
Hush and listen, you will hear sad sigh.
Castle chapel ruined and forsaken
This is where you will hear song of lament
True love endures forever unshaken
Soft gossamer kisses they are content.
Should you hear echoes of this haunting song
Passion will find you enduring and strong.
Writing Challenge -
'L' Words -
Poetry Contest
Chosen word Lament
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
15/03/2023
Pixabay image by: degoergens
I spent three hours
& forty-eight dollars
in a used bookstore
Dust filled the air as I
cracked the spines of a thirty
year old book wide open
Baby blue, sun-stained, hard cover
of Francois Villon, filled
with Greater and Lesser Tenements
and a secret. Tucked in yellow
pages of the long-neglected tome
was a postcard, sent to Scotland.
I have yet to read a piece
of prose, much less
a compelling poem that begins
with a hook half as charming
as this epistolary question—
“Have you been haunted by any Highland ghosts yet?”
I am unsure of the result,
I don’t know if any spirits
even roam the rolling Scottish hills
But without a doubt,
that humble author’s words
pleasantly haunt my own pen.
(alternately titled...
whoops rites of spring
prematurely ejaculated).
This livingsocial mortal opposes
rigor mortis deadened waiver!
Great slabs of ice thrust
from Perkiomen River
competing forces did deliver
contraction and expansion
giving yours truly,
a frightened shiver
hurled with heft of Goliath
smashed into a bajillion pieces,
akin to alms giver
momentarily, sans freeze-
frame (courtesy J. Geils ghost)
suspended, hallucinated
me accursed and destined,
grim fate akin to drunk Mini driver
city, viz frozen blocks buzz
feeding frigid air, a sliver
of Ice Age dam axed
face of Paul R. Vortex
as he launched a
thousand shrieking banshees,
an narrow escape as I did quiver,
hence explaining thunderous crash heavily
argh...no time to mull
battering (ramming analogous to
more'n one angry red bull)
Highland Manor Apartments
little imagination needed
to envision skull
and crossbones harkened full
Nelson deathly hallowed
grip inescapable pull
aghast and petrified to brimfull
(of mine non hull
king manlihood down
to the last drop),
nonetheless didst cull
atavistic adrenaline
laden fight flight, never a dull
moment whirling as
a "FAKE" undercover agent
with an off humorous bent
(what, that might earn me ten cent),
plus considering myself civil gent
(yea, really no time asper hero to invent,
such as the unassuming Clark Kent),
ah...wishful thinking misspent
mere seconds to spare sought
shelter in makeshift tent
deep sea diving into blanketed warmth
this whimpering poet went!
The roses of September the first
They know the dance is almost over
Slowly the life shall bleed from the stem
Beauty shall wilt
The winds shall blow away the memories
Bagpipers four deep and six long
Shall march upon botanical grounds
In remembrance of those brave souls long ago
Stoic the march, the notes lingering in the air
Falling on the deaf ears, of the already departed
Two swords laid as the cross
Highland dances of youth,
Old photographs lieing burned in the trash
Marching forth, to old peoples applause
They march towards their own death
Overlook there, over the sea, look closer
Shall you see the dust that covers me?
Twenty four reasons to die
Yet here I am on the twenty fifth
Wishing for only one
In my many poems
Of a country so rare
Spare me a few minutes
As i take you there
We are Alba
The land of the Scots
Once we meet
We are forget me not
A nation so free
In this world we reside
Bravehearts
Oozing with pride
And the news of today
Confirms my write
For a train journey so beautiful
Has just been named, the worlds best sight
From Glasgow to Mallaig
Gorgeous lochs it does pass
On train journeys the world over
This is above first class
Over the Glenfinnan viaduct
Its the first of its kind
Made of modern concrete
It will blow your mind
The silver sands of Morar
Like gold dust in the mist
Whilst the Atlantic tides desire
They can't take, but they still persist
The train journey i talk about
In this land of mine
It runs from Glasgow to Mallaig
Its " The West Highland Line "
So my friends on the Soup
If you get the chance to travel
Visit my Braveheart land
And watch our beauty unravel
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php
A Spring stroll down the River Ness
With it's sparkling water fresh to finesse
The sun above as the blue sky roams
Inverness is my Highland home
Mountain back drop with heather's and ferns
Greenery so lush, that makes heads turn
Wildlife in wander going about their day
Beautiful ducks on the water in plumage display
Tourists aplenty so far from home
Enjoying their holiday as they riverfront roam
With Highland hospitality and abundant fare
On their postcards they write in enjoyment declare
My stroll now over as I head back up river
The evening closes seeing Spring deliver
Greened leaves now blessed with pinky gowns
In a couple of weeks they'll drift down
I hope you have enjoyed this River Ness stroll
I feel so humbled on nature's patrol
The scenery and sounds of nature and life
Are all around and it's beautifully rife.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/inverness.php
Das Decrements Describe Digs ©
Grasping figurative literary straws
poetic theme yielded
farfetched aggregate
i.e., where each dwelling
listed as figurative Stormy bedmate,
this nada so eminent (Eminem fan)
lived since the year MM at:
1148 greentree lane,
724 railroad avenue, and
2 highland manor drive, which
defy obvious numerical pattern relationship,
albeit tougher than dismantling
an atomic bomb
Fermi (Enrico) to create
least common denominator
nonetheless, aye delineate
laughably limpid, loquaciously lumped,
and ludicrously as an Uber Lyft
(please lemme look foolish)
evincing desperate clamor
ring blather already
prepping myself for fallout after,
I post very tenuous
schema attempting to enumerate
loosely linkedin previous
to present physical addresses
straining credulity to formulate
formulaic relationship between
street numbered residential places,
futile endeavor mathematical
relationship to generate
readying myself (hatches
being battened down) against
first responder, who
doth dare to humiliate,
this self serving ingrate
gnome hatter hood
awkwardly entwine goofily integrate
ting (Spike Lee's
She's Gotta Have It)
"FAKE" self importance,
sans presenting schema
with literary Bo Jangles
flourishes, that (EGADS) doth jaculate
utter cheek to jowl (consonant
to vowel) outstanding
Uttar Pradesh Khanate,
nonetheless strives to
feign making Genghis
(alias Matthew Scott)
Harris heirs legitimate
if necessary calling on
Trump to mandate
and/or asking supreme
court to necessitate
putting sanctions against
quasi (moe toe)
POTUS oxymorons
so American totalitarianism
can freely operate
in tandem with
Putin to participate!