Long Lowland Poems
Long Lowland Poems. Below are the most popular long Lowland by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lowland poems by poem length and keyword.
I am the monarch of the sky
can outdistance by the miles
every insect, every time
heavy rain or bright sunshine
like a fearless horse I run
in the heart of boisterous winds
like a skater coast and glide
in my effortless cruising style
beauty queen of butterflies
smooth and waxy my chrysalis
green and gold heavenly spun
into a diadem to behold
a green drop of dew my egg
like a flower on milkweed stem
birthing life in green and black
golden gilded for contrast
curious strong alone I fly
gliding vales fields
and mountains
from lowland Louisiana
to skyscrapers Colorado
though alone all summer long
in the fall I flock along
with a million more to fly
for two thousands airy miles
on two inches of wings fragile
tracing shapes of butterflies
fluttering satin color clouds
beating chords of air so softly
into an incredible audible sound
of few millions wings in concert
greeting morning in Chincua forest
Second Place: Brian Strand-All Yours-6/1/019
Friday shopping
The farmer and I went shopping every Friday
(horse and cart) to a small town at the lowland, the shop had a stable.
This place had no café or bars; the farmers congregated in the stable
And drank from a bottle.
The farmer in an expansive mood gave pennies to buy ice-cream
It was not much of an ice- cream; I walked around looked into shop windows
Selling things, I would not dream of buying.
When I came back the cart has fully loaded the staff in the shop had
Seen to this, outside the town the farmer fell asleep I took the rain.
When we came to the steep hill, the horse stopped I had to get off and help push.
On the home stretch, the farmer woke up, took the rain chewed tobacco
And looked sober as a priest a Sunday morning.
On a lowland moor, waved a sea of green
Pastoral gardens, peaceful and serene
Ocher blossoms, kissed by the sun
were posing for a painting I 'd begun
In this placid glen, nature's beauty reigned
Captured with brush before sunlight waned
Cornwall's grey sentinels rose to the sky
Granite cliffs worthy for artists to descry
I scaled a mountain to glimpse the sea
Humility washed in waves over me
Fingers of foam fondled the sandy shore
T'is a regal place I'll visit once more
In the valley my canvas came alive
Nature's beauty, my eyes did not deprive
Filled with regret when dusk stole my light
I painted from memory, into the night
Welcome world as you read this poem
Its about the Haggis
Scottish Highlands they roam
The lowland Haggis with legs the same
Evolution from the Highlands they came
But the truer beasts, rarely in sight
Run through the hills left and right
With one set of legs longer than the other
On the steep Scottish slopes
They don't fall over
With the world in recession
We have a tourist boom
Highland Safari's
Have lifted the gloom
So book now to catch your own
Take a photo, email it home
So come the summer, they hibernate
Get on that plane, before its too late
In the long journey of the stream on the lap of planar plateau,
through the draping expanse of the emerald forest it slithers,
rolls over the broken contours of lowland as the surge askew
in the cascade of ribboned flow like fluidized swan feathers.
It collapses on the cleaved rocky floor, clad in reclined ferns,
as the gushing exuberance of splattered pearls of jubilation,
expressed in monotone splintering the silence of verdance,
the air in the tranquil valley ripples with the echo of elation.
Gliding with crystal waters of the bubbling champagne flow,
it dances on wave of land in dale of flowers in a looping line,
around the balanced boulders sparkling with malachite glow,
amid the patina of foliage glistened by the drizzle of sunshine.
The seamless shimmering sky on the sheathe of green canopy,
illumines the mystique shroud of diaphanous mist rising slow,
lifts the dark curtain for the dawn to rise from the horizon fiery,
in a trance I’m lured by enticing nature’s light and sound show.
Written : October 18, 2020
December 17, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 23
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
All efforts tabled on Nigeria;
Experiencing a fortunate miscarriage,
Feasting Aso rock- a pizzeria
But never admit it is the cause of this age.
Upon the solid manifesto,
That touches all sectors:
Picturing California's Barstow,
To cajole mandates of the electors.
Finally, all promises are working...
Nigerians are glad to vote SAI BABA.
How beautiful things are shirking!
Yet, we never cease referencing YORUBA's BONOBO.
Now, pebbles tear apart the wall to a lowland.
No sands dare last all days.
Though, the wall can not withstand
The test of time come the apartness of clays.
The crevices in the wall:
Is an awaiting lost of hope;
One day, the wall will surely fall.
Just like acrobats won't last all days on tightrope.
The time is no longer right;
The poor and his rights are wrong,
For there's no one to stand by him.
Those beautiful hearts; pure and young
Have been battered and their loves' lights dim.
Buhari's reign is like what?
Revelation said it well in his whatnot
And if that be the truth,
Should we believe, lazy are all youths?
Why do we fear actions and love words?
If we never mind, our hens can fly like birds
But we keep living in reliving,
The leadership orbiting the Africa GIANT's sun outliving...
The societies expectations--
A reason millions are invested in educations.
When shall we be tired?
To relieve those supposed to have retired.
Just like the withered leaves bring
Blessings unto tree to renew its strength.
The odd flowers introduce the spring
And relinquished fortitude to breath.
The detached withered leaves
That have been laid to rest,
Can never regain life's airfoil
Than enrich the top soil.
What are meant for backups,
Ended up been the beautiful ups.
One thing unsure is the extent of our grieves,
All are mere satisfying best.
Of course, sun shall rise and shines bright on the green lushes,
Blessing nature with its radiant nutritional solar energy.
As the aiding glimmer blushes,
It shall promote unbelievable synergy.
But if nights tarry for long,
Mornings shall come with the healing birdsong...
Youths, light the nights;
Cohorts, best their rest.
a dewdrop from a wandering bead
born in somewhere deep and deep in valley
asking the reason why he has to be born
dyed blue
in a moon
light
and thinking of the meaning of life
looking up at the countless stars
the dewdrop driven by the early morning sunbeam
that came climbing up the wall from the other side
of the rugged mountain came to a spring
being formed from misty beads and dews
that were born at dark of the night
and flow as a rivulet for the place somewhere in an unknown lowland
although a water bubble the transformed dewdrop drifts in the gathered waters
to a destination unknown
there was a springtime after cold shivering winds of the days
and ice to stand still for a while
because it carried time with it
and that was why birds twittered from the treetop
along side of a flowing water
then summer came with big strides
accompanying clouds side by side
throwing hot air to kill a cicada burned alive
under thick green tree leaves shrilling chirrup
and for nothing would permit water to stop or pause
no matter how wearisome is the water
it has to flow ceaselessly as if it's the water’s destiny
and while doing so
a reddened dead leaf falls on the water
and comes along with the water to the mouth of the river
where you’ll see the waves clasp with the edge of sky
at yonder horizon the great water the home of a dewdrop
born in one moonlit night
From toothed alps to McKenzie High Country
to hardwood alpine forest and fernland,
there rises the jewel Aoraki
out of the jagged ice age peaks so grand.
And polar winds at its rock face below
chill Lake Te Anau’s willow and bluegum,
where the frozen wild lowland tussocks grow
and rainbow river trout and salmon run.
Behold plains and valleys when spring has shone,
hear the cloven hooves scatter asunder,
climb Arthur’s Pass to Milford Track and yon
to glacier and fiord and rolling tundra.
Stretched from Cloudy Bay to Bluff on the sea
thunders the sky father, Ranginui.
Written: April 1996
Clans, Ilks and Tartans
Woven into threads of red and black,
Girded by grids of white,
Distant plaintive bagpipe memories
Of sunset over Kilmaurs –
A crest that bears a unicorn
Touches royal roots
As a poet’s tribute to a patron lost
Watches neighbors Campbell and Montgomerie
Then looks out on the seas from tidal lands
Of Ayrshire in flings and reels with swirling kilts
When explorer’s feet recall on new world shores
The mew of seagulls soaring –
Politicians, engineers and entrepreneurs -
Over Fork Over – Cunningham, a clan of auld.
Blocks of green and wine
Stripped with blue
Look back into the heather
Covering highland hills of country dances
Where spring wanders in hunting kilts
Beneath clear cerulean heavens,
Boldly enduring;
A crest that bears a coronet
Of storied noble and knight
Whose melancholy legend
Whispers in glens and gloaming
Of standard bearers for a king
Watched by Ogilvy and Stewart
Lindsay, a clan of auld.
Like sunlight bouncing off of autumn leaves
In crimson, golden amber, umber greening hues -
A sword dance of squares and lines in twirling kilts -
Near the sparkling waters of Loch Lomond;
Clan neighbor Graham and cousins MacCammon
See the crest adorned by a coronet
Prize of battle;
The wind remembers
Tiny windswept island Clarinch -
A battle cry of Clar Innes -
Campaigns of kings and exiled queens –
Chieftain’s seat sees a president and prospector -
Hence the brighter honor – Buchanan, a clan of auld.
Cousins of the same ilk
Bear the names of families -
Of highland lands
And lowland memories -
Seaside and mountain territories -
Kilts wearing colors interwoven patterns
Born of clans with
Tartans telling legends and the stone of destiny,
Plaids dancing at the piper’s hand,
Ancient names, though maybe hidden, still live –
Cunnyngham, Lindsey and MacCammon
Of Buchanan –
In Celtic refrains like iridescent whispers
Woven through clans of auld.
This is the story of my Scottish heritage through the mottos, the tartans, the history and geographic references to the clan homes.
The stream murmurs as it slithers in vale
through the draping emerald forest opulent,
splashes on the wavy contours of lowland,
in cataracts it gurgles like flutter of swan flock.
It meanders on the jagged swathe clad in ferns,
sprinkles with exuberance the splattering pearls.
It hums in the drizzle of slant silent rain,
and glides through the echo of whistle of wind.
Flying over crystal waters of the bubbly flow,
the returning robins chirp the springtime song.
As in garden path fallen leaves crunch and rustle,
graceful butterflies flitter around the flowers.
The sparkling night sky above silhouetted forest canopy,
wears the bejeweled crown of the twinkling stars,
silver tinsels trickle through moonbeam flicker,
I am charmed in a trance by the splendor of nature.
________________
July 26, 2022
Contest : Onomatopoeia
Sponsored by : Emile Pinet