"birk" poems
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro’ the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear,
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark’d with the courses of clear winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary’s sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild Ev’ning sweeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides,
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flowrets she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
2.8k
Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my *****
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o’er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi’ mony a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But, O, fell Death’s untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly;
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
2.4k
Aye, you take away,
My livelihood with a wicked smirk,
Know ye, today,
The heavens multiply your sorrow's birk.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
The chief had a drank for twenty years or so
And stayed drunk enough to call the streets his home
He was working on a hand-held totem pole until
Boy blue looked his way
The drink and his style stayed clogged in his ear
Or maybe he was to drunk to notice or fear
That man with a gun raising hell
About his blade.
The chief kept walking, not knowing he should stop
And with a whisper of a warning that is as far as he got
Boy blue put four in his back my god
What a man.
'This doesn't reflect on the whole brigade'
But discipline and punishment, like magic, fade
They protect their own so Mr. Birk
Just hid away.
The lesson here is one of fear
One of panic and add the right to ****
Try your words before you send an old man
To his grave.
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 2:08 PM UTC
Fordi mine arme er grene
svajer jeg i vinden
Når det rusker
ryster jeg
Træ er et smukt materiale
birk er sublimt
Jeg mærker hvordan roden
dræner mit køn for væske
Xylem gør sit job
Giver mig sved på panden
Straks derefter
næsten umærkeligt
springer jeg ud
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
outside the snow lurks
a cold dew kissing warm birk
and inside our house
the tealight candles will melt
a flame will flutter
against a fogged window pane.
oh how my breath stills
captured there in bright beauty
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
Aye, you take away,
My livelihood with a wicked smirk,
Know ye, today,
The heaven multiply your sorrow's birk.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC