Long Scottish Poems
Long Scottish Poems. Below are the most popular long Scottish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scottish poems by poem length and keyword.
Living here in southwest Scotland
winter brings its share of cold air
along with biting winds so chilling
makes you feel thinking it's not fair
Then Jack Frost appears so deep
getting deep into the earth's ground
walking on the grass feels do crunchy
with its hardness, it brings a crispy sound
You need to wrap up really well
with thick layers, keep out the cold
wooly bonnet, scarf, and gloves
all needed especially when you're old
Remember that in your elderly years
the blood gets thinner all the more
so you feel the cold and that frost
take all precautions so close your door
So keep warm as best you can
make sure your house has enough heat
this cold air won't last forever
for when spring comes sun's a real treat!
(Just back from a week in the Scottish Highlands where although we had no snow there was plenty of frost and that really cold air so just a few thoughts on that cold air at this time of year.)
Go ahead snow, have at it
Fall away
There's a woman who I Iove
And I want to see the day
When we both sit and watch you
Silent, hand in hand
Her head upon my shoulders
Wouldn't it be grand?
To cozy by the fire
To sip some Scottish tea
To listen to her heartbeat
To hold her close to me
To speak with just a whisper
Love poems in her ear
To lift her chin and kiss her
Enraptured in her sphere
To rub her tired shoulders
To rock her off to sleep
To cover her in blankets
To wrap her up with me
Go ahead snow, fall, have at it
And while you're coming down
Land and form a pattern
A snow heart on the ground
Bha e brèagha an-de
(It was Beautiful Yesterday)
There was a sailing vessel
With many a sail proudly lapping in the wind
A flag of the Celtic honor, in ruin an rented
As all the sailors sing
Of my love for you
From long ago
Before death became our friend
Oh would I be sailing from stormy seas to the Scottish glens
To lay some flowers at your side
Your beauty is now far under
My love ill wait for all eternity
For loves resurrection’s stormy thunder
Our bodies may be under stone
Our memories long lost in tales and fable
Let no man ever lay any such claim
Our love was not the gift of briny seaworthy fame
We be only stones, in a meadow blue
When you come upon our fate
Tiss with this verse, I state my case
The life that escaped our sadly date
Love though was true as sky
For long ago, she bid adieu
Her sadness at my drowning departure
As I her lover was told to be
Buried deep and under sea
Both sadness and the tossing waves
Took the life out of her and me
So when you look at fading stones
Remember the love that used to be
Mighty proud was I
with me lumber in one hand
my brick me carried in the other
I placed the brick in the barn yard
tall side for gained height
balanced the lumber board on top
I am silent and of Scottish temperament
You see folks
my feathered pet cock
was cock a doodle do-ing all day long
yapping and yelling
ranting and raving
the other farm animals had all had enough
action demanded
I place the ol koileach
at the end of one side of the board
all while smiling at the brainless duine beag
immediately I jumped on the other end
sending that whiny ol cock mid air
into the sea
he drowned
Ah what a wonderful day ladies
I shall meander onwards
among the heather and moor
my brick magically transformed
to fine woody scotch
oh what tales I shall tell
if tomorrow ever comes
The Lake.....
lies… still,
a glistening sheet of tin foil,
shimmering in a cold-eyed wind.
At night
the lake still... lies… still;
a coffin with lid screwed light-tight.
On occasion, the moon trickles light,
lightly across the lake's pitch-black back;
the knack of making the coffin lid crack!
Today, I challenge myself
to touch-dive the lake’s chilling depths,
halfway down I halt, a dark vault,
weakens my errant confidence.
Despite puppet legs and handcuffed arms
I spin frantically to reach a detached surface,
bursting out like some skittish, Scottish salmon
only to be held between the two supremos;
illuminated sky and darksome water.
Tonight, the lake grips my bedroom window
and I watch as watery, inky tentacles
claw and talon at an unsettled shoreline.
Later, I wait for sleep to possess me,
sensing surrounding hills clinging closely
while rain falls like pellets of iron.
So I drift…listening to the lake
whispering dangerous, whispering treacherous secrets
until nature’s seesaw; night tilts into daylight.
Ian Souter
Now i onced hoped for Nuclear war
(i love the sound of onced what can i say once)
to see if i could get superpowers
quite infond of theory of the rip
always pushing out
just to give it help
why would a.i. want to look like us
A.i. Scottish for recognising someone and answering yes
Triffids tickled with tendrils
hugging the face hugger
so the pandemic
never met less humanity
and never loved more
how ever end you meet
what do i like about you
everything from the feet d
---------------------------------o
---------------------------------w
---------------------------------n
famined unfed
words that should not be spoke
all the rows of laws applaud
Just ice floats apart
Karma strangled by its armour
Hop the every e
With my free will
i choose not to be
why don't none of you join me
Having lived in Scottish Countryside
during my early formative childhood
a river flowed behind house
many moments there I stood
On a sunny summers day
there watched time go by
so peaceful tranquil setting
makes one want everlasting high
This is the river Irvine
running round it's every bend
taking it's streaming tide along
this stream never to end
Many a walk I've took
with Cora my friendly dog
along this on spring night
taking rest on wooden log
These are such precious memories
one's that need kept in mind
so to be thankful always
for these moments always shined
(This River Irvine runs from Lanarkshire/Ayshire border in south west Scotland ending at the town of Irvine in North Ayrshire.)
Catha’s hair glistened in the Celtic way
Druids would have worshipped her
A sprinkle of cinnamon on her arms
Her face pixie-like and heart shaped
People fell in love with her
Scottish, Irish and Druids claimed her
We were five when Ma spun the Catha stories.
For our benefit, to honor our McCormick ginger hair.
To help us feel normal with our copper hair
And our plethora of freckles.
Born near Stonehenge,
Gifted with a soothsayer’s heart
She was more fey than the faeries
More gypsy than the Romans.
Clairaudient and clairsentient,
She sensed brownies, elves, and poltergeists
We were seven when our classmates began to bully us
Making fun of our McCormick ginger hair.
To try and make us feel ashamed of our copper hair
And our plethora of freckles, but it did not work
For we were like Catha, the pride of the clan.
Mother’s preparation suiting us up to ignore their evil taunts.
Young Mirran lived in Calder wood
all of her spells were for the good
in helping out where e’er she could
But Mirran had a plan
And oft times she would sit and brood
about a mortal man
‘It’s not allowed,’ the elves all cried
‘Against our law, and woe betide
a witch who’d wish to be the bride
of mortal human men.
The bell will ring like you have died
and what will you do then?’
Her case was heard and tossed about
The coven’s vote... to cast her out,
No more a welcome here about
Bold Mirran must be gone.
‘Close the book,’ went up the shout
and so the deed was done
‘We must ring the bell, close the book,
quench the candle,’ declared the rook
The hills around in anger shook
for Mirran was revered
but none would brave the Wizard’s look
his power ever feared
With no more magic in her spell
And fear to hear the tolling bell
young Mirran left sweet Calder dell
in sadness to depart
But mother blessed and wished her well
and peace came to her heart
So light the candle and rejoice
The man she wed was Mirran’s choice
Fulfilled with love we hear her voice
She sings so soft and sweet
A song of thanks, rejoice, rejoice
Her mortal life complete
A Scottish stanza
Margaret Foster Oct 7th 2011
for-Father Poetry Contest, Sponsored by: Silent One
------------------------------------------
his childhood stories told
of when he was
a little scottish boy
grey days...freezing nights
the only way to keep out the bite
was the fires flames a roaring
"tis wasn’t much-but it was me home"
he would say
in his broad accent
but...i could never hear it
when war came
and his father did his duty
[a hero within a young boy`s eyes]
his spinster Aunt came to stay
"I had two mums in those days,"
he would often say-
in his broad accent
but…i could never hear it
he would often tell me
how he collected coal by the railway lines
to add to the night time fire
or the day when a Luftwaffe bomber was shot down
and crashed into a field near his childhood home
he would talk about
nights spent in air raid shelters
or the nights sitting in the dark
he would often say
"you cannae show the hun the way to London"
in his broad accent
but…i could never hear it
the silent piper greeted visitors at the door
he would always welcome them with a "G`day"
and a glass of whisky
[always a cheap one]
but there was something not quite right
about the way he said "G`day"
in his broad accent
but…i could never hear it
its true with what they say about the
Scotch being stingy
[he would say he was just being thrifty]
example- when we left the lights on in a room empty
he would say
"Andre Carnegie doesn’t live here,"
in a sarcastic way
and in his broad accent
but…i could never hear it
------------------------------------------------------------------
explanations of words used in this poem
townhill-a scottish village just outside of dunfermline
G'day-an Aussie greeting for hello
Andre Carnegie-Scottish-American industrialist and philanthropist.[born in
dunfermline immigrated to usa aged 12]
##dad migrated to australia in 1951