Long Scarborough Poems
Long Scarborough Poems. Below are the most popular long Scarborough by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scarborough poems by poem length and keyword.
[Verse 1]
Paired a vision, windowpane a maze
A streak of moonlit, a daylight-saving Scarborough
A shrug and a diglossic letting down
What is in it, taciturn?
[Chorus]
The glass went for a dancing duo
Felt utterly a lone complain
Paired a vision, windowpane a maze
I press my palm against the frame
[Verse 2]
A sandstorm twister had a sinister route
En route, a fancy turning out
The dormant cause pinpointed too
As always they woo, sung high
To be or not to be, a question
Went unanswered for ages, forever more
The shuffling diva on the bent chase
A brittle for a whistle blower
[Verse 3]
A painstaking saga in strife along the shore
On the corridor, a pondering meander
To end the zigzag after zigzag
Oncoming uproar, under the door
A pail of solar solitude
A sash lowered and the windowpane
A body, a showpiece of a fossilized artifact
In an unknown soul, long gone
[Bridge]
A miracle lit up the moonlit solar zeal
And the jack, a one-man procession
The solar deemed and the miracle of the kindled
A moon-river delight
Never to be a heal, to have the Santorini axis
Without a compassion, a compensating word
To refrain, to refrain
[Chorus]
The glass went for a dancing duo
Felt utterly a lone complain
Paired a vision, windowpane a maze
I press my palm against the frame
[Outro]
A streak of moonlit, a daylight-saving Scarborough
A shrug and a diglossia letting down
What is in it, taciturn?
205. She was my dreamer weave, roaming grace in my dreamland
Unbridled a mystic riddle, puzzling befuddling kind
Days are gone by to seek , to beseech, they were
A tide met the will, and we met as wills met beyond verses, unsay-able
To garnish the scar, borrowing Scarborough next to Tucson
Then they foretold they all, the roll the call, all became a clear water in assimilation
Unsung, they sang my song
Unlearned they preached my heart song, in near and far intertwining chime
An invaluable hymn alone, sings there in a croon, nursing clues in my gone a noon, nap time
Eternally the stanza is returning back to the first my soul sings to overcome skeptic a critic
Only you dwell there to hue the twilight clouds, discernible.
fewer …
stars there are
in the heart of heaven
than the myriad ripples of brine that
gently placed me here -
tender tongues of tide that tossed me
and polished my bark away
shaped me smooth from jagged -
turned from beast, to beauty …
courses ago -
I was loosed from a tree
and lost to the sevens in a gale -
sundered from all I’d known
yet …
my journey was ordered
as all things are
made divine not by substance
but by ministration
and singularity …
for the universe, entire,
holds no other creation like me
the countless moments
and patient, boundless energy
that my trek required
would never have been wasted
on the unremarkable …
and though one sojourn has ended
something awaits
that is more infinite, even
than waves …
OR suns …
possibility.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, August 12, 2023
( photo taken 8/1/23 by Gregory R Barden, Ferry Beach, Scarborough, ME )
He saw a gap in the market,
Knew he'd found a niche
Got the idea at Scarborough
From donkey rides on the beach.
Camel treks from Whitby
Going the scenic way
Following the coastal road
On to Robin Hood's Bay.
The very place where, if
Local legend had it right,
Mr Hood and the Vikings
Had a very dirty fight.
He advertised on the Internet
Pretty sure there would be
A plethora of investors
All as Foresighted as he.
He checked his e mail hourly,
Couldn't understand why
After forty three days
Not received a single reply.
He sent the camels back to Qatar
After a very drastic rethink
Then devoted his life to
The Pursuit of strong drink.
You can find him by Donny station
A sight to make you weep
As he rattles his tin can
Begging for his keep.
There's a moral to this story.
Always look for the hitch:
Though better than the alternative,
Life at times can be a bloody .
I looked in the paper, and guess what it said?
It read, "Panagiota is dead!
I quick turned on CNN.
News Alert! "Panagiota lost her head!"
Oh, I was more than mad!
So I went to Joe Scarborough on MSNBC.
He reported ever so gleefully..
"There is not,and never will a Panagiota be!
Don Lemon, Mr.Cool, just had a sip of water.
Then, burped and in a velvety, whisper uttered.
"Oh, Panagiota. Yes. She never mattered."
So why this rhyme, you ask?
It's time for the media to take off their masks.
Show themselves for who they are, be given a
check, shown the door and find other tasks.
I have never heard such lies from so many stations.
I can't stop the transfusion of lies drowning all the
nations.
I just know there is a God, to answer to.
And I am glad I am not any of these manipulators.
Their day is coming my friend. They willingly forgot
that God is bigger than any puny station.
And you bet, they will all have to pay one eternal due
in a fiery end.
So be your own best friend.
Be a stand-up person.
There is no glory nor eternal joy in a harangue of baseless
condemnations and allegations.
September 13. 2019
Now this is a little story of the caravan that rocked
Whether parked in roadside lay-bys, the locals were never shocked
They travelled from the Highlands and motored so far and wide
Exercising their freedom, oh my! that you couldn't hide
They lived just south of Ullapool, and further north than Perth
But no matter where they parked, they always made it worth
Now this couple they liked to journey, to places so far from home
To York, Scarborough and Edinburgh, so capital in their roam
Where ever they went they took in the sights, so beautiful they grace
But every so often their caravan rocked, but never in a windy place
Their holiday nearly over, it's time to head back up the road
Passing places where their caravan rocked, their travelling home abode
They pass such lovely places, like Stirling and Callender
Stopping of at Granton On Spey, their holidays take them afar
Now very close to home, boo! it's work in a couple of days
But they don't mind, for their caravan rocked, without a wind to sway
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-4.php
With a stiff upper lip and old school tie
still it's just not cricket
but the upper crust they say
are on a sticky wicket
to pay the estate or make ends meet
they have conducted tours
of stately homes safari parks
and the family jewels
we used to go to Scarborough Southend-on-Sea
Bognor Brighton Blackpool
have fish 'n' chips for tea
but now for fifty pee we natter
with a Duchess or the Duke
for half a quid a cuppa
with a true blue-blooded bloke
as they're all skint like me and you
there's not a lot a poor Lord can do
but bite the bullet and enjoy
hobnobbing with the hoi polloi