Category Archives: Poetry

Spring. A poem

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Dandelions, like gold, cover the meadows.
Newborn lambs frolic in fields.
New leaves on the trees are casting their shadows
And winter’s cold grip quickly yields.

At the edges of woodland the primroses glow
And cowslips their scent fills the air.
Anemones dance when the breezes do blow
And birds sing with never a care.

Then bluebells and campions come into bloom
Their colour the blue of the sea.
The cuckoo, that herald of spring, will come soon
His call echoing over the lea.

The song of the blackbird is like molten gold.
His notes are so pure and so clear.
Hearing him seems to banish the cold
And brings joy to all those who hear.

Robin is nesting, and other birds too,
The hedgehog is active once more.
The young of the deer and the badger and shrew
Play their games as in old days of yore.

The sun climbs higher and higher each day
Giving more of his heat and his light.
It sparkles like stars fallen into the bay.
All smile at the beautiful sight.

Hope and excitement come with each spring morn.
What blessings will come with this day?
New starts can begin once again with each dawn
And send us all hopeful away.

Winter Night. (a poem)

This ought to have been published in the winter, but I didn’t get round to it, so I’m publishing it today. Anyway, it’s still technically winter! Hope you enjoy it.

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Snow covers the ice-hard ground
And ponds and lakes are frozen.
All is muffled, every sound.
The birds are silent in the trees,
No moths or butterflies or bees
Just snowflakes by the dozen.

The moon is full and her pale light
Shines gently through the flakes.
But creatures shiver through the night.
The icy wind makes branches quiver
And every living thing to shiver
In trees and hills and lakes.

Across the field there trots a fox.
An owl flies by on silent wings.
On the frozen lake, some ducks.
As snow falls gently on them all,
And cattle low within their stall
We are waiting for the spring.

I welcome all your comments, so please add yours.

I Am Earth. A Poem

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I am Earth.
I am your mother.
I gave you birth.

I gave you a nest.
A wonderful home
On which you can rest.

I gave you food .
Plenty to eat.
You waste all that’s good.

I gave you the seas
And forests and hills,
But you chop down the trees.

You think you’re so cool,
But you pollute the air
By the burning of fuel.

You heat up the air
And care not a jot
For the poor polar bear.

Animals die
Because of your greed.
You hear not their cry.

I teemed with life,
Both great and small.
Yet extinction is rife

Like a cancer you spread
Throughout the whole world.
It won’t end till you’re dead.

But I’ll make you pay
For all you have done.
You’ll be sorry one day.

I’ll shiver my skin.
Your buildings will fall
And bury your kin.

The land I will flood
By raising the seas
And drown all in mud.

My mountains so high
Will belch forth their flames
And you will all die.

I am Earth.
I am your mother.
I gave you birth.

BUT I WILL DESTROY YOU.

Crisalisk, The Red Dragon (a poem)

Today is the third Tuesday in the month, and so it’s poetry day.

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This poem is about a dragon who you can meet in my next book, yet to be published. Crisalisk and her mate Monarlisk are separated by Monarlisk losing a fight to another male dragon for the attentions of Crisalisk, but this poem refers to a time before that.

Her scales are the red
Of sunset in Autumn,
Her eyes are the gold
Of midsummer sun,
Her horns are as white
As snowfall in winter
And she dances on high
Like the birds do in spring.

Her beauty is evident
To all who do see her.
Her grace in the sky
Is a joy to behold.
With pinions spread wide
She dives then she soars
But beware, if she sees you,
Her flames she’ll release.

She thinks she’s the queen
Of all that surround her.
All other things living
Are there just to serve.
If any refuse her
She roars out her challenge
As Death on wide wings
Dives down from the skies.

But who is it comes
On black wings high soaring?
‘Tis Monalisk who
Is her mate and her love.
For him she will bow down
Her arrogance dwindling
For he is her only
True love in the land.

This is a poem that has no rhymes. Poetry does not need to rhyme, but it has to have either rhyme or rhythm or it’s just prose broken into lines.

 

Poetry nowadays seems to be that way, I’ve read many so-called poems that have neither rhyme nor rhythm. One had short lines, then suddenly a long line that took up 2 lines of text. Some of the poems I’ve read are incomprehesible too. I may be old fashioned in my ideas, but those things aren’t poetry!

If you have any comments on this poem or on poetry in general, please add them to the comments section.

Hypocricy. A poem.

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Today is a day when I share some more of my writing. Today it’s another poem.

Hypocrisy

We like our village churches
But we don’t go there.
We love our local pub
But we don’t drink there.
We don’t want them to close
Though no one ever goes.

Our roads, they are congested
With cars for everyone.
The others shouldn’t have them
But we, of course, need one.
It should be other folk
Who give it up and walk.

Aircraft fly above us
Polluting all the air.
We think there should be fewer
But we still fly o’er there.
We need our holiday
No matter come what may

We don’t like highest earners
But want to earn as much.
We eat our meals with wine
But we don’t know too much.
We really like to think
We understand our drink.

We highly praise the classics,
But we don’t read them.
We talk of works of Art
But never see them.
We think we are so highbrow
But brows are really quite low.

We say we all hate rumour
But spread the gossip.
We say we understand things
When we don’t, not one bit.
Hypocrites are we
And we always will be.

A Halloween Poem

First of all, may I apologise for the lateness of this post. I got back from holiday on Sunday at 10pm and had everything to do on Monday, including looking after my grandchildren in the afternoon. I probably should have scheduled it, but I thought I’d have time. Silly me!

Anyway, I’ve just entered the following poem into a Halloween Poetry Competition. I thought you’d like to have a look at it.

 

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Hallowe’en

The moon has hidden her face tonight
Turned away from the Earth.
The clouds are scurrying away in fright
From what the night may give birth,
For tonight the veil is thin.

The wind is blowing the leaves around.
They hide in crannies and nooks.
Cowering, shivering, hope not to be found
By phantoms, ghosts and spooks,
For tonight the veil may tear.

Build a bonfire, create some light.
The spirits are afraid.
They like the shadows, shun what’s bright
And lurk within the shade
For tonight they cross the veil.

Ghouls and spectres, wraiths and shades
Return to Earth tonight.
We’re filled with dread as daylight fades.
The smallest sound will give us fright
For tonight the veil has gone.

I would be interested in what you think of my effort. Please leave a comment, or sign up to my email list.

Dragons Fly

I’ve posted this before, but forgot. I promised aurosjnc I’d post it this week as he’s collecting dragon works, so if you’ve read it before, please forgive me.

 

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DRAGONS FLY

Dragons fly
Soaring high
Tiny specks up in the sky.

Dragons swoop
And loop the loop
Then come together in a group.

Dragons dive
Up there they thrive.
They all love to be alive.

Dragons flame.
It’s just a game
They are wild, they are not tame.

Dragons play
Above the bay.
Dangerous beauty. Do not stay!

Please leave a comment in the comment box and I’ll get back to you.

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Elven Evening Song from The Wolf Pack by V.M.Sang

 

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During their return from finding the Sword of Sauvern, the companions passed through the Elven homeland of Rindisillaran and stayed in the capital, Quatissillaron/ there they heard the beautiful song the elves sing at dusk.

 

Elven Evening Song

Ah equillin ssishinisi
Qua vinillaquishio quibbrous
Ahoni na shar handollesno
As nas brollenores.

Ah equilin bellamana
Qua ssishinisi llanarones
As wma ronalliores
Shi nos Grillon prones.

Ah equilin dama Grillon
Pro llamella shilonores
As nos rellemorres
Drapo weyishores.

Yam shi Grillon yssilores
Grazlin everr nos pronores
Wama vinsho prolle-emo
Lli sha rallemorres.

Translation

“Oh star of the evening
Shining brightly
You give us hope
In the deepening night.

Oh beauteous star
Who heralds the evening
You tell us all
That Grillon guards us

Oh Grillon’s star
As you sink westwards
Return again
To guard the dawn.

Ensure that Grillon
Through darkness keep us
Safe from all evil
Until the morn.”’

A poem to commemorate WW1

I make no apologies for re-posting this poem. I wrote it 2 years ago to commemorate the anniversary of the start of  World War One. As July 1st is the 100th anniversary of the terrible battle of the Somme, I thought I’d post it rather than the next episode of The Wolf Pack. That I’ll post next week instead.

My Great Uncle Jim, whom I mention in the poem. came back too, but he died shortly afterwards from the results of gassing. The lady known as Auntie Polly, who was his fiancee at the time, never married, but the family always treated her as though they had been.

‘Our Poor Willie’ was also my great uncle. He was my maternal grandmother’s brother. She always referred to him as ‘our poor Willie,’ but no one ever knew why.

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WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

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My Grandad went with Uncle Jim
And Our Poor Willie, too.

They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

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I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

V.M.Sang

July 2014

I make no apologies for this poem not being in the modern idiom of no rhymes and little rhythm. I’m old-fashioned enough to think that poems ought to differ from prose, and many modern ones I’ve read are little different. That doesn’t necessarily mean rhyming though. I’ve written blank verse myself on occasion.

I also think that they ought to be comprehensible!

Please leave a comment in the comments section.

A Dwarf Work Song

Today is the fifth Tuesday in the month, so we have an extra blog. This time I’m posting a poem.The blog is short because I”m on holiday. I hope you enjoy it.

DWARF WORK SONG

Deep, deep below the ground
Wielding spade and pick.
Dwarven miners found
Minerals lying thick.

Tin, iron copper too,
We dig the all day long.
The solid rocks we hew
With sturdy arms and strong.

Precious stones we find.
Opals, rubies, jet.
We leave non behind.
Everyone we get.

But don’t you delve too deep.
We don’t know what lies there.
All kind of dangers sleep
And fearsome things lie there.

Please comment on this poem in the comments section.