Moor Poems - Poems about Moor

These are modern English translations of ancient Middle English poems. The Maiden Lay in the Wilds circa the 14th century loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The maiden in the moor lay, in the moor lay; seven nights full, seven nights full, the maiden in the moor lay, in the moor lay, seven nights full and a day. Sweet was her meat. But what was her...

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No harmful or irksome thoughts stir this mind to absolute madness, and away from annoying, frequent sounds: only peacefulness soothes irritated senses; I may fall asleep and dream in a state of false reality, letting the fanciest fantasy enter the bloodstream! The crimson sunset arising over the wind-swept moor alleviates the mood of daily woes such as this murmur; the torrid...

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A wintery sun slips under a flat horizon. No faraway lights to guide me, just this pitch-dark moor and a racing pulse. I was thinking too much or not enough, long walks can turn you into a cart horse hauling around an unlit mind. The chill air bites through to fear. Not knowing where I was or should be, eyes much too wide...

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In the skull of the scuttle she comes to me between the stretches of a sunken moor it is not alone those deep set eyes shall guide me keeping safe from an unwanted storm...

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in 1978 just trying to survive newly-released pumas numbering five attacked livestock in Cornwell terrorizing remote farms where cattle dwell labeled murderous beasts of Bodmin Moor devouring animals, this was no folklore pets released upon an unknowing countryside when these cats were hungry, there was no place to hide...

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Crossing the Pennines, rocky spine Of the country running North South, Following the motorway west From the Humber Estuary Mouth It always felt cloud bound whatever The weather or the time of day Stretching out on either side of England’s highest motorway. Saddleworth Moor, place of ill fame It looks desolate and bare and bleak And I felt uneasy as...

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Well hi there this soft voice said As i walked in through my door. It only took me seconds to see It came from a puddle on the floor. It rippled and it writhed Seemed to sort of expand And there before my eyes Was an arm with a hand Which very gently, Before I could quake, Grasped...

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Lily blooms in spring , ...

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Lily blooms in spring , ...

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Lily blooms in spring , ...

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How to prune the heart? Echoing the rhythm of "Maqomat Ras". I trembled with childlike syntax. Monarchs and nobility operated under rules. Faith versus the truth. I put all my mental energy into this. I waddled towards the front door. I beg, proclaim for nothing, and debris splits. Where is the sparkling heart? Rest of high-end dogmatic pegs. Thrones, lives, Crusaders, and Moors. I anchored at...

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Thirteen ladies dancing By Throckrington Moor’ Each movement stately Each movement sure. Stark against the sky Each single girl, Feet firmly planted, Arms all a whirl, Moves to the wind In a slow rhythmic way, Dancing consistently Whether night or day. Really only dancing ladies In my minds inner eye, Really just wind turbines Outlined against the sky. Spare and sparse in their design To me things of simple...

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Beyond the moor and mountain crest In valleys green and still Ten thousand times I've done my best And all about the idle hill. When first my way to fair I took Beneath the blue of day For willows in the icy brook In valleys miles away. When in the moon the long road lies And down the sighing wind in vain Spent in star-defeated...

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On a tour across the Scottish highland moor, one summer noon I stopped by a grand Victorian house. Curious, I entered silently through the half-closed door, in the semi-dark room a pile of antiques I could only see . In the creepy silence before I could say “anybody in”, the creaking wooden door closed sharply...

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Back and forth on the blustery jut I rock my brain in its buoyant swell. The tang of crowberries and storm clouds sieved through wind and limestone, sheep’s piss and heather. Beneath the high rock, rock ravens spiral, peregrine swoop within a flying sky turned upside down. This is my land, this moment I declare myself the very image of this twirling world, magnified, upright, somewhere...

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