Short Heathers Poems

In carpeted show -~-
Purpled heathers radiate -~~-
Picturesque glens bloom -~~~-...

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Oh to write a limerick like Belle's
Of Heathers in leathers himself
Stayed up all night
But tried as he might
The last thing he said was "Oh well."...

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Unassuming and natural, many did not notice Heather at first.
Her grandmother knitted her a soft blue shawl the color of her eyes.
Now she stood out, and the boys came running over to be listened to.
Why did she have to make it that color? Asked her son, Heather’s Daddy....

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Such beauty,

on her peripheral.

Adorned with heathers and brackens bloomed.

Amidst, there lies a wonder, radiant, sulky.

Erosional twists, flow translucent carpet lay.

Deep she is, with a lurking cryptid,

Within her sightings, she,

is Loch Nis...

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On a Path through knee-high heathers
Stumbled, scraped, suddenly seeing
Moonlit form in noiseless View;
Raven's eyes of Crimson hue.
Caw and stretch the Midnight feathers!
Extraordinary, blurry, Ancient measures
Sounding you, approaching closer:
Startled wings alighting further....

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Rolling down the hill
Ending up nowhere
Falling through the tunnel 
With loves affair 

Never ending feeling 
Time to slow down
But where do you go
When you are found

Lost with no direction 
In love and hate
Found nothing but reaction 
Nothing but fate

Down deep in love 
With no reason 
Seeking hate
Within freeing 
Cold weathers
As you are falling 
In a field of heathers...

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Standing silently in the 
blossom feathers,
Covered with pink
delicate heathers;

Its leaves were giggling 
with the dew,
A leaf twinkled
as it flew;

In the soft wind
under the pearly moon,
The tree was about 
to sleep soon;

 I wandered in its 
leafy arms,
The stars were flickering 
to show their charm;

I was lost in
my own thought,
A tree in my heart
which I love a lot....

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The long skies of Scotland,
Kaleidoscopic
Mixtures of liquid and gas,
Cinematic palettes,
Watercolored squalls
Blowing over, like hearts,
From odious troubles,
Into tartan landscapes,
Highland symmetries
Of epic hills, Monro's
In staggering lines, give
Relief as gorse yellows
Sparkle, and heathers
Define the boundaries,
Of Scottish pride, oh yes
A preserve of esthetics,
Untamed, unclaimed remains,
Half eaten, abandoned
To the wild, centuries of
Warrior blood and thistle....

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