Long Lincolnshire Poems
Long Lincolnshire Poems. Below are the most popular long Lincolnshire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lincolnshire poems by poem length and keyword.
upon the Rase a troublesome crone
who meddled in the Rasen folk
for she a witch!
a witch! their slant and well
she laid upon a cow a cursied blight
a cursied spell
and lo would not this neighbour’s cow
go to the milking parlour so
this neighbour’s daughter fraught and fair
to seek a wise man, she that hour
left in haste to hear of words
and met with him though quite by chance
for he appeared to her when needed
invited in somewhat expected
and knew did he of her unrest
as heating in the fireplace a red hot poker
readying
and stoked, enflamed the fire roared
and from by the Rase the witch was heard
to scream and cry
you see now in her weakened state
another troubled Rasener
took heed upon the lowered crone
and struck her hand with a blade had he
and brought to her all of her eves
that drew the blood of taintedness
and scream once more
then again made three
no more trouble will she cause
said the wiseman confidently
and the witch skulked away
her powers lost
made free were then the Rasen folk
and the cow went in to give them milk
Smead Say, the sinister ugly buggy cook covertly took action
Driving the wandering geek man into her neon computer screen
He smashed his head a bit on the edge, which gave her satisfaction.
She was a gargoyle woman, tough as concrete and pretty darn mean.
The humanoid began laughing his guts out of his head.
His eyes popped and rolled around on the floor.
You are disgusting said my Uncle, a raccoon named Ed.
He created a diversion as mice chased those eyes and more.
What is this a circus? My Aunt Gladys asked, all prissy and stuff.
I did not answer, hoping she had not watched me swallow an eye.
Geek man was plunged into her green cauldron in bubbles that puff.
Some crazy person was yelling “Oh, my!” That’s when I decided to fly.
What are you doing? Grandma asked, all concerned about the scream.
From the raccoon, who did not even admit this old lady was his mother.
I yelled, "Let's get this one! Turn him into marshmallow crème!”
Loud screeching came out of my annoying awful horrible brother.
I loved it when salesmen came a knocking on our woodland’s door.
We always ended up playing with them, if they are from Lincolnshire.
This one was fun to torment. He was a strange little dull ugly bore.
Until he turned into a dragon and burned us up in an enormous fire.
Could discontentment be a vice?
To be a farmer would suffice -
yet, born upon this earthly sphere,
a boy in County Lincolnshire
was left by farming, cold as ice.
Not content to sow and harvest grain,
He sought to understand and explain,
inventing calculus he showed
how nature's secrets he'd decode
with his unsated, searching brain.
As Newton revealed the laws of spheres
there followed other pioneers,
none of them quite satisfied,
as they were only gratified
by blazing new frontiers.
Dissatisfaction's contribution:
the Industrial Revolution -
happy changes - if there are finds
by newly discontented minds,
yielding a climate change solution.
A Lincolnshire lass was she
in youth and bloom revealing,
and upon us all God smiled
when unto this world a child
was born and bred in Healing
Red flower of the Midlands -
O’ English Rose sweet and fairest!
Who heard the sirens roar
when fell the bombs of war
on village row and terrace
Where old port fishing boats
off the North Sea tied dockside,
and there their catch unload
where the mighty Humber flowed
as they came in on the tide
She met her Ted a likely lad
from the seaside town of Grimsby.
Unto a rose a prickly thorn
whose love to she was sworn
and wed the twain would be
And so it was it came to pass
a great debt of love was owed.
Dreaming of a foreign shore
in old England’s cold bitten door
from her house on Oak Road
Unto an isle beyond her own
in a far land and Bay of Plenty -
to sail a ship from Glasgow
and off starboard bow long ago
wave farewell to old Blighty
Away the colonies away on
berth and passage of ten pound.
Leaving her home by the sea
and the life she knew in Grimsby
on the Captain Hobson bound
Ocean to ocean voyage long
the bow waves did pitch and toss.
By day their slow time biding
and by night the ancient guiding
lights of the Southern Cross
Soon a year passed and nigh
that Midland girl a mother to be.
Once again in a seaside town
dressed in a maternity gown
across the world in Opotiki
But the Firth she calls home
and there in time raised a family,
and I remember to this day
her gentle and motherly way
to me and to all, dear Audrey
Written: December 2017
Oh listen helots while my words be bold
To gather fire that fills our spirits mold
So brimstone melds the brick and mortar wold
We face death to defend these walls of old
Our wars be borne for mothers wept herein
Our children born free our lives shall spare thee
Be brave bold men for now the fight begins
Lift swords and battle defend til weary
Let not thy spirit fade with wound or fears
Thy faith be sturdy and shields have great zeal
So in the midst of clash ye find no tears
Our proud hearts and true mettle to reveal
Be sure in this moment we proudly stand
Each man's brave heart lift valor to this land
September 7, 2020
Hollie was born with no right forearm,
In Lincolnshire on June 26th in 1994,
But now resides in Wales, Hengoed,
To train at Cardiff Metropolitan Uni.
The F46 javelin category suits her,
And she discovered herself one day,
At a Star Track Athletics sports course,
During one summer holidays, short.
She competed in Beijing and London,
And won many medals as a junior,
So in Christchurch at the IPC Worlds,
She took home a bronze to rub bare.
Then in 2012 at the Euros, Holland,
She moved up a notch to win silver,
And in Lyon at the IPC Worlds, 2013,
She threw 37.45m, a PB to win gold.
2015 Worlds, and she made 40.53m,
To retain the gold and top the board,
And at Rio 2016 she found success,
When she recorded 43.01m, a gold.
Matlock the hare has a good life
He is alone now, he has lost his wife.
But his offspring are near, visiting each day.
He loves his evenings, when they are far away.
Matlock loves to sit in front of the fire.
Wearing his warm pajamas near Lincolnshire.
With baby kangaroo on his lap, they are both cozy.
The mantle’s candlesticks smell like a fresh new posy.
His pet rat named Egbert watches the basket for worms.
They come out in the evening, with a touch of a squirm.
A delicacy for him, he keeps the house clear of a cat.
This is the perfect place if you are a rabbit or a rat.
words 114
Quincerra queen of the white horse had a full load today
But she made an exception when she heard of the lost foal.
She said, I can easily tackle my list of have-to-dos another day.
For being the savior of the white horses was her ultimate goal.
Lancelot, the white horse, was thrilled to meet his queen.
He knew she was a favorite human of his Uncle Benign
He noted that she was full of kindness, and never mean.
He asked to be her steed from then until the end of time.
I would love that, she told him but let me ask Norse from Lincolnshire.
That would be okay, Lancelot agreed, hoping it would work out.
Norse was her present steed, a wonderful horse who wanted to retire.
Quincerra and Lancelot were happy together, and gave a glorious shout.