The Lincolnshire Bird Club

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It was a cold dark frosty morning,
Tawny owl was still hooting way past Dawning
Snowflakes thicker than Denis Healeys eyebrows,
Coming in from the north like Viking hords now,
Chilly winds swirling the last leaf of autumn,cross the u shaped valley,
no time to be bored now,coal to be stored now wood to chop now,for our aunt sally,
Fieldfares and Redwings fall out of the sky,
The storm to end all storms is nigh,,
Owl still protests throu all the ice-ceness,
Deers run in fear as fox hurrys home,,
single malt whiskey is with me,so im not alone,,
the wind now does moan round my glacial home,
Snowy owl sweeps over majestically catches his prey,
Day becomes night ,night becomes day,,from the heart of Glencoe to the Isle of Sky,
This is a time to live,
This is a time to die.......
Copyright:Roger Hebb

Thought you'd hibernated


Steve.

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http://www.brachytron.blogspot.co.uk

http://www.LincolnshireOdes.blogspot.com

http://www.flickr.com/photos/routy

Thanks, Roger for brightening the gloom. "Snowflakes thicker than Denis Healey's eyebrows" must be one of the best lines I've read - if he was around Tennyson would be worried that his place as Lincolnshire's most celebrated poet could be under threat!!

i like it roger, plenty of time for thought, like it more with my glass of malt, like it better with my second glass of malt, with my third glass of malt, bloody hell wheres that snowy owl. seriously roger i like,

terry whalin

Thankyou,I started writing poetry only a few weeks ago(before xmas),after reading some modern poetry,I thought I can do better than that!,Ive been putting my poems on Facebook and without getting ego and all that,ive been getting a really good response,which has encouraged me to carry on with it,my other stuff is on my facebook timeline.cheers terry!!And Stuart!!

Rog.

Poem for the Day:Highland song,heres another i wrote a week a so back with birds in it..

Snowflakes Falling,
Eagles calling,
Stag is Balling,
Wildcats snoring,
Highland Cathedral from lone piper,
stag is dead from lone sniper,
Ptarmigan karrs at sniper afar,
Capercaille steadfast as ever,
Raven crows*nevermore never*
Piper plays the tunes of glory,
recalls recalls the highland story,
Eagle soars on high
and wonders why,
whom should have the power,
to decide what lives or dies,
everything now is quite,
the Piper takes a dram,
then plays a final lament,
to the evil within a man.

Roger Hebb.

Well done Rog! Try entering them in competions like I did, and don't be afraid of rejection, getting them makes one try harder the next time/s.



Here is one called Houses which I wrote in 1998:

Some are plain and dreary
Some are made of stone and brick
Some are grand and stylish
And others make you sick.

And lastly here is a stanza taken from another poem I wrote in 2003:

The patch of grass half way down
The smell of it newly mown
Seagulls hovering above it
All manner of things lying within.

Cheers

John

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GETTING OLD HAS IT'S ADVANTAGES BUT I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT THEY ARE lol