Long Lochs Poems
Long Lochs Poems. Below are the most popular long Lochs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lochs poems by poem length and keyword.
It is the lairiest of epochs
Ignore slop do a pop vox
Chock a block with shocks
But the scariest of tik toks
Snapping like hungry crocs
Another spate of hate docks
Photos that everyone clocks
Those ones who girls mocks
Are as deadly as small pox
Aren't all as strong as an ox
Shaking from online knocks
Drowning in instasham lochs
Stinks like young men's socks
Mistaking that a cure’s botox
Crowning a theory I defrocks
That faking makes you a fox
Solution sells comes out a box
Lies stir fries in corporate woks
Smells fishy like out of date lox
Why jog cheat the elite flocks
Fatty injections vanity smocks
As the poor everything hocks
Pharma firm flogs all its stocks
Not just peahens also peacocks
Androids on steroids rippled jocks
Muscle bound like the Springboks
Why are so many blokes.. cocks?
How about all go on a long detox
Take note your boat you’re the cox
Winner is the inner you which rocks
Fashion rations compassion is bollox!
My mind to arms to hands to oars to lake
I cleave the sunrise glass-like surface, still
With just my lonely friend, a mallard drake
Thus set adrift, my thoughts, upon the wake
So buoyed by the breath of morning's chill ...
Oh, how I long to know the somber deep
To let my weary soul sink with the bream
But I have many vows that I must keep
My web-toed friend and I have loves to reap
And many lochs to row before we dream ...
Yes, many lochs to row ... before we dream.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 135 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Rhyme Time II" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
The Highlands, our Kingdom, our many Lochs and Glens
Our beauty woos fair maidens to be at the side of Highland men
Their futures to be part of our history, Queens to our many Clans
As we stand and salute the Saltire, by the side of their Highlander man
Such a Princess exists, in a far away land from the Scot's
To our shores we'll grace her beauty, once seen, forget me not
Onclaud, by the name Nette, shall stand by her Alba man
Upon a Ben she'll stand so proud, admiring the lands of her married Clan
She'll walk through purple heathers, thickened by natures sun
Amidst ferns and ancient bracken's by burns so crisp in run
By her side he stands this man, kilted displaying his kin
Claymore at the ready to grace his enemies skin
His Queen, their Kingdom, their Castle, resting on the shores of the River Ness
Overlooking forests and greens, salmon runs in richness finesse
When the night befalls these lands, in the Kingdom of the Lochs and Glens
It's understandable as to why they be wooed, by these historic Highlander men
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-6.php
On the shore I see the colours of the skies that whisper on the ebb and flow of the tide .
My quiet thoughts gently tumble in my mind and I am free
To just be
Barefoot on pebbles
My faerie kingdom by the sea
My home where you will find me ..
Looking up towards the morning sun , shimmers the glimmers of hope , the breath of love upon the waters and I hear a wish from a fishermans boat.
We dance upon a dream
Flutter amongst the clouds
Our thoughts in peace and prayer
We sing a song serene out loud
Spellbound on the lochs of Bonnie Wee Scotland
My home
My heart
My written letters
Always and Forever
Amen
You know that I won
Some say I clear lost
Their whines so exhaust
Wrong man they just crossed.
How wrong they all are
Fools to a man
When I've only began
To work out my plan.
Just wait and see
The Don at his best
When put to the test
I’ll make them all stressed.
First up I'll sue
Reverse the dumb vote
My win then promote
Un-float their small boat.
That all said and done
If not quite enough
I may tweak the math
Then get rough and tough.
Call up our fine troops
Coerce the weak judges
Then when in my clutches
It's me or coarse crutches.
I think that will do it
But should I be wrong
There's a place I belong
The land of the strong.
A country of Lochs
Of moors and steep hills
Abundant in stills
Real folk with few frills.
That land I can buy
In fact much I own
And Celt to the bone
I’ll claim Scotland's throne.
A great fallback plan
Melania as queen
All day she can preen
Unspoken just seen.
Once king I can rule
Play golf and write laws
As a man without flaws
Days filled with applause.
My plans fully set
I'll ponder and see
For whatever will be
Yet I’m ready to flee.
Oh kelpie with your dripping mane
seducing valiant men of heart,
who by your spell would all be swain
and every sense in them, depart.
Why weep you by the loch and tide?
What brought you from your kelpie depth?
Sure no desire is kept aside
from your cold, illusory breath.
No longer do you haunt the bank,
but mourn a clever witch of wile
from whose enchanted cup you drank,
now captive to her charm and guile.
She'll bid you work a hundred years
in slavery chains for nigh
'til kelpie legend disappears
for proper penance, hue and cry.
*In Scottish folklore, a kelpie is a malevolent water spirit in the form of a horse.
Kelpies were believed to inhabit lochs and rivers, and to lure men to their watery graves
by transforming into beautiful women, once drowned the kelpie would then eat the victim.
The kelpie of this poem was the victim of a love enchantment, eagerly agreeing to a
lovesick life of slavery for penance of past misdeeds. Ha, whoever heard of a repentant, lovesick kelpie?
On my farm, my daughter Zoe grew strong
She became a beauty, like a happy country song.
She didn't smoke or drink, had lots of fresh air
But an exorcist once took a look, told me to beware
Down a dusty road in the evening glow,
She'd walk in her gown where the wildflowers grow.
Deceptive beauty could melt iron men
Zoe earned the nickname of "The Siren."
Legends speak of shipwrecks in the past
Homer has the captain tie himself to the mast
So he can safely see the beauty of the sirens by the sea
But nobody could survive my girl from Tennessee.
She's a distraction on the high road side,
My advice to you, give her a berth wide
Cars jump the curb as they pass her by,
Luxury cars wrecked; I've seen grown men cry.
She says it's not her problem, it's their self-control
She's not going to hide just to save each lonely soul.
She left Tennessee for Scotland, to find her family tree
I begged her, "wear a Burka," but she would not heed my plea
In Glasgow there were warnings on the radio wave,
"There's a girl ahead with the soul of a knave."
But eyes would betray, and hands let go,
Into the heather, the cars would go.
So if you drive that highland trail,
Keep your eyes ahead, pretend you're tied to the sail.
There's plenty to look at - the lochs, the sheep
The scenery in the highlands makes your heart leap
Just don't look at my Zoe, and don't get sore
It's not her fault if you don't reach your door.
The SNP in Scotland has filed a complaint by diplomat
But I tell them - when it rains, get a hat.
She just looks pretty, the open minded must agree
Not to blame the USA for the disaster from Tennessee.
Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
I love your heathered highlands,
steep cliffs and rugged islands,
hedges and gardens under
rainclouds of grey.
Old steeples rise above
those small rural towns I love;
your hillsides of sunny yellow,
rolled bales of hay.
Pipers will play their part
stirring each Scottish heart
binding together a nation
drenched with pride.
"Scotland the Brave" is ringing,
dancers are highland flinging -
proud Scottish hearts are singing,
joy wells inside.
O, highland games of yore
with racers and tug-of-war,
the cabers are tossed asunder
by mighty men.
I love your farmlands rustic,
mountains and lochs majestic,
as kilts of many tartans
hike through the glen.
Pipers will play their part
stirring each Scottish heart
binding together a nation
drenched with pride.
"Scotland the Brave" is ringing,
dancers are highland flinging -
proud Scottish hearts are singing,
joy wells inside.
Castles with ancient hist'ry,
Celt runes of ancient myst'ry,
we sing an "Auld Lang Syne"
and toast Robbie Burns.
Clans clad in plaid will whistle
fondly of Lion and Thistle,
dressing with tartan kilts
their wee bonnie bairns.
Hands high, your dancers dance -
crossed swords, I'm in a trance,
pipes heard for miles
with that old familiar blare.
St. Andrews' cross - the flag is
don't ask what's in the haggis!
Just eat your shortbread
and be glad you were there.
//These reflect some of my favorite memories from the 6 months I lived in Scotland, in 1990. I miss her dearly and hope I may be able to return some day. These words may be sung to "Scotland the Brave", a beloved anthem of Scottish national pride. You can hear it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzK2PWVQYX0
The tempo of this recording is much faster than I prefer, but I include it here in case you have never had a chance to hear this wonderful patriotic song. //
Written 24 Mar 2021
A CASTLE OF TEMPTATION
Proudly standing amidst three lochs, verdant hills
a Castle enciente breathing beauty but sadly chants
passed feuds sparking battles having harried their foe
and it's demise caused by Frigates cannonball screams.
Colonel MacRae-Gilstrap rebuilds now redeemed:
stoned arch bridge supersede the sea highway flow,
circular stairs and ceilings with coat of arms grants
changes made but its history today remains still
Tourists not deterred by ghost tales scary extreme
But await they exercise for imaginations to show
the setting, a romantic reincarnation that enchants
attracted lovers to celebrate their matrimonial thrill
Eilean Donan Castle in its stunning reachable location
pose the Western Highlands of Scotland a temptation.
Written by: Olive Eloisa Guillermo and James Andrew Fraser
8:46 pm; August 18, 2015