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Peter Morriss Poem
INSPIRATION
Under open skies
When the morning Sun
blazes out in all its glory;
And the clapping winds
call out to me to scribe
their wandering story.
I ramble ere I will
among sweet nature’s finery,
And scribble down the verse and
couplets the trees, the hills and
rushing burns would shout me!
Then, when once more homeward
bound from my morning junket,
With a poem written in my notebook
safely sitting in my pocket.
© Peter Morriss 17.01.2018
Copyright © Peter Morriss | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Peter Morriss Poem
SPIRITS OF THE WILD
The spirits of the high peaks
are calling-
Calling me down the vale,
The clapping winds are calling,
calling me through a landscape’s
wintry pale.
The spirits of the high rills
ripple their pebbled song of
the free-
Come again, come again,
beckoning, calling me-
You wanderer of our lonely
wilds,
Come join with us, embrace
with us, share the peace and
solitude with us for a while.
Come to where our sunsets
blaze their glory,
Where our silvered heights
to open skies scribe their
story;
For the splendour of our
wild ways you were born
to roam carefree,
And the wanderlust you nurse
within your heart, once more
our call will set free.
Copyright Peter Morriss 27.02.2016
Copyright © Peter Morriss | Year Posted 2018
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