Short Wales Poems
Short Wales Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Wales by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Wales by length and keyword.
A pub that's typically Welsh
Has music the English can't squelch
Hymns and arias rule
But, like any gene pool,
The loudest is always a belch!
A pretty Welsh girl in Caerphilly
Was invited to play ball with Willie
One kick to his ball
Caused Willie to fall
So she thought the game was quite silly!
Diana, Princess of Wales -
Of whom the news hounds kept digging for details.
Charitable and fashionable was the rebel, Lady Di.
I imagine her death made many a person cry.
WALES 1 GERMANY didn’t
The Germans take great pride
In long words measured by the clock
But can they compete when vied
With Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
Unguarded by the living now,
The castle stood.
Drawbridge dangling.
Tongued mouth reaching outward.
Crenulations gnawing,
The stark gray sky.
Rime-covered battlements
Coated with gangrenous moss moan.
With a banshee’s howl through apertures
Where archers once stood.
"Wales to me is" castles, castles by galore
I'd like to be a travelling man
it's a travelling life for me
I'd walk along the Cardiff road
in the heart of the welsh country
I'd climb the Snowdon mountains
and visit river streams
I'd dance in the arms my lover
and dream of things to see
~ Diana, Princess Of Wales ~
( Senryu )
The Princess Of Wales
So beautiful and kind, Queen
Of Hearts forever
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2015
March. 09. 2017
- “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
Welcome - Croeso is what my people say
As they greet you to the beautiful sites to peruse each day
Literally a dozen or more castles, hills rolling to the sea
Everything shouts welcome, stay awhile with me
Singing in the valleys, small chapels, with sheep roaming free
Ddraig goch is the red dragon on the flag of Wales
Bringing warmth to your soul along with the smiles
Penned 2 April 2014
The iron workers from Wales are slumbering now
They have earned the comfortable rest of the dead,
For years they got up in the dark and began their work
Clanging and banging iron together, forging and welding
That is all over now, their ears are quiet, and they have peace.
It was their life for over fifty years, but now they are refreshed.
Happily lingering on their cloud beds; they have earned their sleep.
My heart has sought your mystery
guardian dryad, ivy tressed tree,
other worldly mound and ley;
long I’ve searched the fair Sidhe.
Here, found I the ancient long bone,
the knurled hawthorn, the Druid’s home.
Sheltered, shrouded, and overgrown
within St. Cyril’s grave well come.
At last, at last my longings free,
and I can dwell a time with thee
A time, past time, with all the wee
Before the banshee calls to me.
oh to be Scottish and support someone else,
I'd rather be English supporting ourselves,
not our neighbours opponent,
cus our own fail the moment,
just support against the enemy,
playing teams we never beat,
just like the Welsh
you support someone else,
I'd rather be England supporting ourselves,
not Scotland or Wales cheering our fails,
in England we win things and live fairytales,
your sport is like sewage forgotten fairwell
A trip to Wales
I was driving among hillocks; the landscape was green
it was spring and sheep-dipped in coal dust, grazed
with their offspring
Parked near a pub in a hamlet, it had a name
I could not get my tongue around it and enter
into a dark interior.
The few customers ignored me yet eyed me
perhaps they thought I was English looking to buy a cottage.
I drank powder coffee in a sea of Welshness
my foreignness disturbed me
and the locals.
I left.
Wales is Grape
[Enter the 'Wales' Poetry Contest]
[Done to the Methodist Hymn, "How Great Thou Art"]
Wales to me is ...
Oh he was born, in Glastonbury, England
fermentation of grape juice he hath made
no alcohol shall be used for communion.
Thomas Welch, Methodist minister forbade
Then sings my soul, for peanuts and jelly
How great thou art, how great thou art
Then sings my soul, despite his dentistry
England is not Wales but not apart.
by,
Martin Braun
5/26/2020
Who dares rouse Leviathan,
the Giant beneath the heaving deeps?
This world now teams with Ahabs
whose heaping anger never sleeps.
Each one wants to hook its jaw
and each to press its tongue;
to try its rich and fragrant oil
and see it bound and beached and dumb.
Poor soul captains on fragile ships
vainly sharpening the barbless spear.
The Whale scoffs beneath the waves,
rising to teach all wisdom through fear.
Soon the Brute will breach and blow
and send each Pequod down below.