Long Moray Poems
Long Moray Poems. Below are the most popular long Moray by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moray poems by poem length and keyword.
Little Lilly wanted to go, to the playground, to have some fun the other day.
And all the other Trolls wanted to tag along, for it looked like fun, they said.
So we went at dusk, for our first try, so no wee ones, would be anywhere near.
For you know, Trolls can play pretty hard, and I didn’t know, just what to fear.
I quickly found a bench as home base, for those who needed to have a time out.
Anyone who couldn’t play gently, or broke anything, found they’d get the rout.
First the sandbox became a deep, dark hole, from which to pop up, to scare, thereat.
Of course, dodge ball became club ball, so you can guess what happened with that.
King of the Hill was a really big thing, since they are all, the most territorial, by half.
Surprisingly, the slide was all-OK, but trouble came from underneath, as they laughed.
They wanted to exact a toll, of course, in the middle, as you passed above, quite brief.
The merry-go-round made them dizzy, knocking everyone down, in a domino motif.
The Seesaws became a great big catapult… to the other far side of the playground.
The monkey bars! Well, they aren’t monkeys, that’s for darned certain, I expound!
They tripped, fell, and smacked themselves senseless with no ones’ help, I ensure.
It could’ve been climbed much better, if not covered in so much drool, I’m sure.
Swings became broken as they pushed the others, all the way to the moon, oops!
And basketball became a slam-dunk, as unfortunately they didn’t fit in the hoops.
Hop Scotch took coordination, and you have to be able to wait your turn, too…
So, as in tag, they started bumping and fighting, until becoming a crazy piled up dado.
Races started more fights as all wanted to win, and threw everyone out of their way!
Hearing a laugh, I turned around to see Grandpa Troll, was ready to stop the moray.
He stood near the bench, as I stood looking up, amazedly, at what they had done.
Now, there were other benches everywhere, but they were piled high, on a single one.
I’ll never truly understand the brain of a Troll, for them a playground’s just not fun.
And they don’t play gently, and are bigger, than our wee folk, as I had already known.
They spent the night, putting things to right, even better than before they’d been broke.
And I finally took them home, to find OTHER things, designed especially, for OUR folk.
AN INDEPENDENT SCOTLAND? (Or, Beware The English)
by Damian on June 15, 2014. © Damian Cranney, All rights reserved
An independent Scotland,
That will do just fine,
We no longer have to listen
To the Scots familiar line.
Whatever woe that Land has had,
Is laid at Englands Door,
But if you analyse the truth,
We’re being blamed, what for?
More Scotsmen have been killed by Scots,
That’s no lie,
William Wallace, his history,
Perverted by Gibson, did die.
Betrayed by the Bruce,
Who took the crown at Scone,
After killing, John Comyn,
Who had the right, to the throne.
What about, the bonnie brave lads,
Abandoned at Culloden,
With empty bellies, and broken hearts,
Their prince they saw depart.
A third of those they faced were Scots,
Some Irish and some German,
Cumberland, commanded,
Officers were usually called , Campbell or Urquart.
Clan rivalry has a lot to answer,
Especially at Glencoe,
The Campbells and Macdonalds
Considered each a foe.
But Macdonald was polite to guests.
Who’d disturbed him from his bed,
With instructions to arrest him,
The Campbells killed them all instead
The clearances took place,
Run by, local Scottish factors,
Employed by landlords who were Scots,
Not English detractors.
The worst one of all
Was a lawyer born in Moray,
Patrick Sellar, was his name,
And it’s Scotland he put to shame.
Scotland was a barren place,
For crofters of that, stoic race,
That is why they fled the land,
And yes it was a big disgrace.
But if the bleak and wild terrain
Proved hard their families to maintain,
Why is an Englishman to blame,
When foreign soil can’t, life, sustain.
Before we joined together,
In unhappy unity,
Our security was always threatened,
By our old north enemy.
Whoever hated England,
Found a friend and ally there,
The answer was the union,
In which we both can share.
Make no mistake security
Was why we joined together,
If Scotland is a foreign state,
It could be viewed as an open gate.
The natural progression will be,
Border controls for you and me,
On a personal note I’ll stop the scotch,
My favour will be, for Irish whiskey
In a short time, you will be my executioner.
Your actions shall be considered a favor.
You say to me “Lady, please forgive me”.
I, Mary Stuart, am grateful for your sympathy.
You are putting me out of my misery.
It was purely by providential chance,
that I should rule both Scotland and France.
My first bout with misfortune was the scene
where my French king husband Francois died at sixteen.
I would return to my native Scotland right away.
I faced subjection by my half-brother Earl of Moray.
James Stewart and John Knox scorned my presence.
Peace between Protestants and Catholics found no permanence.
With this problem, I became heavily involved.
During my reign, practically nothing could be solved.
My cousin Elizabeth has been a thorn in my side.
Her disdain and disfavor she chooses not to hide.
Elizabeth proposed with blatant effrontery,
that I marry the Earl of Leicester, Robert Dudley.
Such a marriage would bring an English-Scottish alliance.
I would have been a fool to submit to compliance.
My marriage to my cousin was out of defiance.
I thought I could love Henry, Lord Darnley.
However, Henry’s actions became a liability.
He helped kill one of the noblest men I would know.
Scottish Lords conspired to murder David Rizzio.
During my reign, troubles compounded all the while.
Soon I found myself a ruler without a nation.
Adversaries forced me to agree to abdication.
I would be placed into imprisonment during exile.
My involvement in the Babington Plot is the reason
why I am being executed for high treason.
Please let your blow be both swift and clean.
It shall release me from this ignominious scene.
I wanted England and Scotland to live in harmony.
May I be remembered this way throughout history.
Mary's son, James VI of Scotland eventually became King James I of a united England and Scotland.
a massive coral reef just off the shore
of a tiny island in the South Pacific
a tropical reef filled with sea life galore
breathtaking and stunningly majestic
like an enormous rainforest on the sea floor
rare kaleidoscope of colorful sea creatures
a fishdom of seldom seen underwater life
even a crevice hiding a notorious moray eel
a reef so magnificent, an oceanic cathedral
a community of sea life in a grand display
exotic swimmers in an oceanic aquarium
gracing the reef with healthy marine life
offering much for visitors to that domain
begs it be respected and kept pristine
this grandiose basilica of the blue sea
surface floaters unable to dive appear
like bobbing corks on a fishing pole line
static observers, yet witnesses to divine creation
while skilled divers invade the watery nation
the abode of sea inhabitants extraordinaire
a face goggle view has its rewards
though surface viewers covet those of
the divers who can fathom the deep
viewing the ocean floor’s beauty mark
a kingdom of oceanic life of divine art
surface views are provided with small
portions of the reef freshly harvested
but a rare experience is squandered
because of the inability to dive deep
a lack borne with shame and regret
those who dive deep gain profoundly
by interacting with the life of that watery den
while those fear of depths are deprived
as others dive and find rich treasures
that the surface viewer never discovers
being a surface viewer can be humiliating
causing awareness of one’s shortcomings
taking what others gained at great effort
with risks that only success could unfold
gracing the lesser with hard-earned gold
THE COLD CLING OF SPRING
Pretty petals ferociously fall as Spring releases its fury.
Blooming cherry blossoms in disarray, decry a disaster.
Rosebuds refuse to unfurl like a flummoxed fist of stubbornness.
Like moray eels, the moss morphs into a menacing hue,
as blackened clouds crowd out the signs of light and life.
The wind in winey whisper, wallows and whips up, into meringue swells.
Pathological pines, with nesting nettles, fly through worried windows,
and ornery oaks uncork an unholy battle for the braveheart to lose.
Voracious ivy vines, unwind, wrap up a horrified house like a ghastly gift.
Teeny tiny eyes in buried basements hearken to the howl of the harried storm.
Sheltered shells of confusion, await the arrival of calm and catastrophe.
Flash of a fresh new day, finds friends hugging, holding hands, waxing wings
of action, surveying the skies, the smiling sun, the warmth
of Winter’s waning and Spring’s taming. Yet the cold clings
to the forest of ferns and forget-me-nots, fretting at mocking skies,
mottled in chaotic cataclysmic chokehold like weary wrestlers.
When will this season settle down? Dreary and drowning in snow and rain.
Disdain on bushy brows. Parasols on parade in perpetual mourning frown.
Still evergreen buds, buddy up to branches, and dot-to-dot blossoms
appear amidst a washed out willow slowly sipping sanguine revelry.
3/27/2018
Silent One’s Alliteration Contest
[An offering for fans of Dean Martin... or not. More or
less to the tune of ‘That’s Amore’ (not the ‘In Napoli’ bit),
this is the cleaned up version of an unprintable original.
In UK ‘Old Fellow’ is a euphemism for... let’s just call it
man’s best friend.]
***
Big long fish in the sea
Eight foot long and wriggly
That's a Moray
Well I pooped in my trunks
It was biting off chunks
That's a Moray
First it bit my thing
My ding a ling a ling
People on the scene
Heard me bellow
This big fish just bit me
And it swam away with my old fellow
Then I heard someone squeal
That big fish was an eel
That's a Moray
Then they bought me a skirt
To conceal where I hurt
Fair enough
Well, I gave it a whirl
Living life as a girl
But no more, eh?
’Cause I went down the pub
For a flirt and some grub
That’s amore
See , this bloke wandered by
With that look in his eye
That’s amore
He said hey babe what’s yours
Slipped his hand down my drawers
That’s amore?
But he felt quite a chump
As he fondled my stump
End of soirée
Had a tear in my eye
At his hasty bye bye
That’s amore
I learned electronics
Made some bionic bits
That’s amore
Ladies squeal with delight
When I ‘stay up’ all night
They’re in love
And they all ask of me
Is that whole thing for me
That’s...
A Moray
But I’ll write nothing more
As I think this has gone...
...Far enough.
So sailed they then o'er seas well spent~
Torn their skys & mastheads back bent~
Under their bowsprits well to a'sea~
From ravages o'wind did'st they then flee~
Down from their bulwarks & under their keels~
Sharks & Dorados & green Moray eels~
Mermaids a'singin' shantys o'love~
Sailin' a'sunder moon black above~
Marseilles & Gibraltar they sailed all a'tune~
Meldemi & Cyclones & greatest Typhoon~
Thallasa & Caribbean with Sargasso a'drift~
Sails o'wind & bows so swift~
Madagascar & Seychelles then great Horn~
O'seas o'which all tales ayre born~
Azorians Atlantians e'er so wanderin'~
Ocean's depths naught fer a'ponderin'~
Equator thus crossed once & then twice~
Tropic o'Cancer & towerin' white ice~
Gales blown wildly o'Cape Verde's storms~
Life's blood then o'ethereal forms~
Down down down did'st they go~
Sailors o'seas when winds did'st so blow~
Round 'round 'round & about~
Ships & sailors verily so stout~
Cliffs o'Dover & Isle o'Man~
Fjords o'Vikings so 'twas a'plan~
Off then across blue wide & deep~
They to themselves a promise to keep~
Ne'er again seen were those hands~
O'ships then so sailed a'far distant lands~
Sails black & torn o'hell bent~
Hulls a'twisted & minds well spent~
Under they went to bottom at last~
Down deep steps & into cold past~
Sailors all & lives o'great deed~
Years so destined o'hearts in such need~
SeaWolf
©
Far tae the North hidden alang Moray coast,
Therr bides a little toon o which yin can boast.
Wi a rid phone boax in pride o place mak a call tae freends an aa.
Nae thing tae spile the view ower grey blue sea reflecting azure sky
Rest yer mind oan Pennans lap bringing a smile tae yer mou'.
Sky ablaze with fire a glow as ancient as the stones
Ancients witnessed this cosmic fire thinking it was the gods ire,
Hiding within circles of towering stone while druids chanted
Smiling as they alone knew ,it was the voyage of the sun roon the wurld
Bringing the gift of life making crops grow at summers height.
Stillness settles over the sea and land, lulling all to rest and sleep,
A flash o siller moon catching and painted by setting sun.
Now the red of setting sun is painted over the sky,
Segou’s fly hame tae roost oan clifface steep an sheer,
Till yince again at dawns rise brichtens the sky again.
Splish, splash said the seagaus yin tae anither,
Fur whit wull we hae fur oor supper e dey,
said the ither ,Ah ken lets hae fish,
Whit again replied the first ane, weel we aa ken that at Pennan ye allus get the
best fush
my but yer richt therr ma freen quick afore yon dolphins jin the queue
C,mon n hurry get therr furst an gie them the push.
Pennan is the fushing village wherr “Local Hero” wus fulmed.
Goodbye
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
The dawn will be on that day too, the sun will wake up, the chirping of birds will be heard but there will be humming all around. Someone is crying or someone is standing quietly or someone wants me to extend my hand a little. It will never happen again, Lord, it is widespread among the people all around because I am dead today. Three khan agarbati is burning in a cup of rice, there is no smell of it today, as if everything has faded. The pet dog of the house did not eat today. He could not accept my departure. Used glasses and sticks are lying today. On one side a few people are very busy cutting bamboo today. Who knows if the verses of the Qur'an are floating in a sweet voice today or my life will end tomorrow night. The first bath is in the hands of my mother, I know who will give me the last bath water. Loosen the shroud and look at me. This is the last time you see me. You will see. I will not look at Moray. Is this the line of destiny? The sound of Moray Kalema can be heard on the bed. Who will find me if I go to a secluded house? The bamboo hut banana leaf canopy is my three and a half hands, how can I spend the night alone in this house. After scattering the soil, all of you will leave after praying. After a long time, I am in the middle of nowhere Mother and Father on both sides.
Ah! For the good old days when you could fill the tank for a dollar.
If folks paid more'n a quarter a gallon, my, how they'd holler!
Nowadays, it necessitates a usurious loan from the bank,
Or a second mortgage on the house, just to fill the tank!
Politicians piously claim they can feel our pain at the pump.
Well, I don't know about that, but it sure makes me grump!
I can only shake my fist and vent my rage at Conoco and Shell,
Sinclair, Diamond, EXXON, Phillips and the entire oil cartel!
Oil companies make huge profits and give their CEOs a bonus,
But on the backs of us working stiffs is placed a taxing onus!
"Elect Me!" promise the politicians, "and I'll guarantee relief!"
We've heard that old saw before - it usually means more grief!
I doubt that the moose, caribou or elk really give a hoot,
Should drilling be allowed in Alaska in our oil pursuit!
Nor would sharks, barracudas or moray eels be at all offended,
If we set up rigs and drilled offshore as some have recommended!
Alas, the price of a barrel of oil continues to rise each day,
And us fellers at the end of the pipeline are the ones who pay.
In suspending gas taxes for a spell, I see very little merit.
The only solution for our plight I guess, is just to grin and bear it!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)