The piper plays his clans lament.Story poem
On cold grey days, a piper plays
his pibroch on the battlements.
Clad in the garb of bygone days.
He proudly plays his clans lament.
From down below he can be seen
but no one knows who he might be
A misty figure on the scene
Bewailing his clan’s history.
The swank young men who fought and died
in foreign wars far from their home
their sacrifice can’t be denied.
He bids their long dead spirits come.
Come back braw lads where ye belong
Ye have been far too long away.
He guides them home a mighty throng.
His bounden duty is to play.
Should you attempt to draw too near
all you will find is empty space.
The piper simply disappears.
No one has ever seen his face.
The locals know and understand
He too is dead another ghost
Who still obeys his last command
a phantom who sticks to his post.
A sight the tourists come to see
and vainly try to photograph.
of course they cannot possibly.
Their efforts make the locals laugh.
On certain days the piper plays
the tourists have to make their choice
Though most arrive on sunlit days
if he appears they will rejoice.
They have more chance on sad grey days
to see the piper through the mist.
the locals know the piper’s ways.
The legend cannot be dismissed.
The experts may explain away
the ghostly figure. which appears.
But can’t account in any way
for the lament which they can hear.
So they pretend it is the wind
a rather silly thing to do.
All experts have a tight closed mind
and can’t accept the story’s true.
I disregard the experts view
for I have seen and I have heard.
and know that others have done too
Expert opinions are absurd.
Why can’t the learned fools accept
the piper’s presence as a fact.
Their explanations are inept.
Forgive me for my lack of tact.
I can forgive stupidity
Ignorance is an excuse.
I state my case with clarity
most experts are of little use
Outside their field of expertise.
I much prefer the locals view
The piper’s visits will not cease
until he has good reason to.
17/06/2009
Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pibroch Dhu For Jim Hogg
The piper plays his sad lament
Alone upon the bleak hillside.
A bitter hymn of discontent
recalling those who bravely died.
A living breathing testament
to regimented homicide.
The piper plays his sad lament
alone upon the bleak hillside.
This world is not as it was meant
The ten commandments are defied
as warfare rages far and wide.
As in the past and the present.
The piper plays his sad lament.
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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For Shrill The Piper Plays His Tune
When thoughts are idle wanderings
Words tumbled round and round
When feelings they turn inwardly
Still I hear the piper's sound.
When happiness is broken
And the Kings and Queens are gone
The piper's tune keeps playing
And I hear his victory song.
For even when awoken
From the sleepiness of time
There's a distant music playing
Heard clear within my mind
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
No-one has seen this piper man
And no-one has seen him play
But we all can hear his mournfulness
And fear for what he'll say
No folds of fathered cornfields
And no breaking of the bread
The piper's tune keeps playing
With his words as yet unsaid.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
We can all hear if we but try
The piper's song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole complete
No piper plays before we're born
Before we touch the earth
The piper's tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness disease'd
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease.
Not one of us pays him to play
Nor gives him any score
For every note that he blows out
Is fully paid before
We entertain our wanderings
And confusion in the mind
For the piper's very soul turns out
To be both yours and mine.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
poem by David Keig
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The Piper (#2)
When I'm confused and wandering
On a journey with no end
My feelings they turn in on me
Uncertain who's my friend
It's then the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tuned is full played out
He carries us away.
We can all hear if we but try
The pipers song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole comlete
No piper plays before we are born
Before we touch this earth
The pipers tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness diseased
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease
No-one it seems pays him to pay
Nor gives him any score
For every note that he blows out
Is paid for by that war
The one that's fought in solitude
And in that loneliness we find
That the pipers very soul turns out
To be both yours and mine.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
poem by David Keig
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The Flowers Of The Forest
A lone piper plays a sad lament.
Silhouetted against the sky.
Parading on the battlements.
A focal point for every eye.
A single ray of sunlight shone
Through a break in clouds of grey.
As if to grant a benison.
A blessing on the memory
of those who died in freedoms cause.
Remembered for eternity.
The sad lament a tour de force.
Which foreign tourists flock to see.
A tribute to our proud history.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
Piper at the gates of dawn
The coolness of the riverbank, and the whispering of the reeds
Daybreak is not so very far away
Enchanted and spellbound, in the silence they lingered
And rowed the boat as the light grew steadily strong
And the birds were silent, as they listened for the heavenly music
And the river played the song
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The song dream happened and the cloven hoofed piper
Played in that holy ground where they felt the awe and wonder
And they all were unafraid of the great God pan
And the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
When the vision vanished they heard a choir of birds singing
In the heavenly silence between the trance and the reeds
And they stood upon the lawn and listened to the silence
Of the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
Its the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freethinker for J.T.Ellison
Freethinker
I do believe that memory can be passed down genetically
Encoded in our D.N.A Although I know the experts say
My theory’s unsustainable, there is no proof obtainable.
For all their professed expertise. My theory causes them unease.
They are afraid I might be right. It could explain why men take fright.
When darkness falls and they can’t see, arousing repressed memories
Of long ago when men were prey which linger to the present day
Although the experts can’t explain the workings of the human brain.
The experts say it can’t be so: They know less than they think they know.
I don’t accept the experts view I see no reason I should do
I still believe that memory can be passed down genetically.
Encoded in our D.N.A. No matter what the experts say.
They cannot force me to agree for I think independently
31/05/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Radio King Dom
A few days later the king and queen of the castle were invited to a ball
As they were leaving that evening the queen said to the young prince
Who was the eldest of the children
Take care of the other ones tonight
And dont try to find that radio
We have it hidden away
Well be home by midnight
And then she said goodbye
The childrens mother left
And the party had begun
And the children looked everywhere
High and low
Checking to see if they could find that transistor radio
They couldnt find it they couldnt find it
They looked upstairs and downstairs
All through the castle and finally
All of a sudden they heard a sound
What is that sound is it possible
Could it be the pied piper himself
Coming out of the magic transistor radio
Or was it just the wind whistling by the castle window
No one knows if the mysterious pied piper of night
Was the one who came back to visit the princes and princesses again
But if you have a transistor radio and the lights are all out some night
Dont be very surprised if it turns to light green
And the whirling magic sound of the pied piper comes to visit you
(bow bow)
(Im the pied piper)
(bow bow bow bow bow)
(in the radio)
(bow bow)
(Im the pied piper)
(bow bow bow bow bow)
(in the radio)
(bow bow)
(Im the pied piper)
(bow bow bow bow bow)
(in the radio)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whetting of Appetites
Once the teaching of feeding greed,
Becomes the feeling of an entitled addicted life...
The concept of sacrifice initiates the starting of a fight.
As a dimming of an insight,
Struggles against the aspects of this vision.
And those who have been fed they have rights to feast,
Will do their best to keep a diminishing of resources...
Flowing as if warnings of an ending that comes,
Is interpreted to mean...
A different chef has been hired with a fresh menu.
And...
Will be making a presentation of a new buffet,
Needing opinion.
With a hopeful collected approval.
And a teasing meant to make the whetting of appetites,
With anticipation...
A delightful surprise for the eyes when it has arrived.
Any other concept that introduces a dwindling of supplies,
Becomes immediately denied as an impending reality.
Since greed and the ending of it has never been fed to accept.
Or the paying of a piper to play individual requests.
When the piper appears no requests are accepted.
The piper appears to get paid.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Opposing views.
Opposing views.
Alone outlined against the skies.
An ancient druid proudly stands
Or so it seems to human eyes.
Upright erect with outstretched hands.
As if appealing for Gods aid
Against the Roman conquerors
Who have decided to invade
and stamp the old ways out by force.
But only when the sun is high
At other times it’s just a tree.
A trick of light deceives the eye.
Although the locals disagree.
They disregard the experts view.
For they still hold the legend true.
Friday,12 November 2010
Http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Better Get Back In Bed
(pied piper)
(Id better get back in bed)
(hope Ill see you again)
(pied piper)
(Id better get back in bed)
(hope Ill see you again)
(pied piper)
(Id better get back in bed)
(hope Ill see you again)
(pied piper)
(Ill be running along)
Thirty seconds after he was in bed
He fell back to sleep
The next morning
He had forgotten all about
What had happened the night before
But when night time came once again
His thoughts somehow found their way back
To remembering the fascinating episode of the night before
He he turned out his bedroom light
And sat in his favorite chair
Thoughts danced in his head for a while
Suppose I went to check and see if my transistor is still down there he
Said I wonder what would happen
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Many Miles To Babylon
In this wasteland without any shadows
There is no water for my dusty throat
There is no rainbow days filled with silent sorrow
And for our sins there are no antidotes.
Eternal sand
There is no end to this no mans land
We all must pay
For the piper we dance while he plays
How many miles to babylon
How many years must I carry on.
In this our endless searching for the holy grail
There is no sleep for the souls who find no rest
Ships of the desert without rings or sails
Flotsam and jetsam floating from the west
Eternal sand
There is no end to this no mans land
We all must pay
For the piper we dance while he plays
How many miles to babylon
How many years must I carry on.
song performed by by Yngwie Malmsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Many Miles To Babylon
In this wasteland without any shadows
There is no water for my dusty throat
There is no rainbow days filled with silent sorrow
And for our sins there are no antidotes.
Eternal sand
There is no end to this no mans land
We all must pay
For the piper we dance while he plays
How many miles to babylon
How many years must I carry on.
In this our endless searching for the holy grail
There is no sleep for the souls who find no rest
Ships of the desert without rings or sails
Flotsam and jetsam floating from the west
Eternal sand
There is no end to this no mans land
We all must pay
For the piper we dance while he plays
How many miles to babylon
How many years must I carry on.
song performed by by Yngwie Malmsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Piper Is Death
Today the piper is death, he left before now the sweet aroma of our belove model
The arches of our trumpet voices
Today the piper lay waste among garbage
The exit of this departed fellow
Smuggle among the flames only but a rubbles of roasted soya remain of he
Today the sensless crowd went so wild
Today the forest creatures roar in anger
Today they drove him across the sand
Today they deprive him of his flute
Today they mocked him to his ancestors
Today he was humble among the living
Today the nation mourn her piper
Today we scold through pains of exit
The talent lost through this ashes
Mothers lost to rivers of tears
Fathers remorse with pain of exit
For the door of justice still hang on air
The days of our number piper yet among all was his flameless fate
poem by Onoja Anthony
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Pipe Piper
The Pipe Piper blows a lively tune,
Melody so rich, you will surely swoon,
Through the narrow street and alleyway,
The rat did not come out to play
The cat did come and it did sat
I bet curiosity kills the cat.
Listening, a pair of furry ears,
Piper boy takes away its fears.
An audience of one may not be dandy,
However, the cat will come in handy.
He sends the cat to hunt the pesky rats
They hide in the sewage and in the gaps.
The Pipe Piper work will soon be done,
He and the cat has become one.
Oh! I lost the bet, He didn't kill the cat!
The Piper On The Hills
A CHILD'S SONG
There sits a piper on the hill
Who pipes the livelong day,
And when he pipes both loud and shrill,
The frightened people say
‘The wind, the wind is blowing up,
'Tis rising to a gale.’
The women hurry to the shore
To watch some distant sail.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing to a gale.
But when he pipes all sweet and low,
The piper on the hill,
I hear the merry women go
With laughter, loud and shrill
‘The wind, the wind is coming south,
'Twill blow a gentle day.’
They gather on the meadow-land,
To toss the yellow hay.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Is blowing south to-day.
And in the morn, when winter comes,
To keep the piper warm,
The little Angels shake their wings
To make a feather storm
‘The snow, the snow has come at last!’
The happy children call,
And ‘ring around’ they dance in glee,
And watch the snowflakes fall.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
Has spread a snowy pall.
But when at night the piper plays,
I have not any fear,
Because God's windows open wide
The pretty tune to hear;
And when each crowding spirit looks,
From its star window-pane,
A watching mother may behold
Her little child again.
The wind, the wind, the wind, the wind,
May blow her home again.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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The Piper And The Prey
this is how friday ended
a little bit hard to believe
my perception slightly bending
as the piper came on the scene
it was something so hypnotic
the music even changed
the crowd got up and got chaotic
and they paid so they could play
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough
at first, the dance was hesitant
not long before everyone knew it
the music spun them 'round and 'round
then it pulled the dancers into it
i danced my dance at my own pace
he laughed, knowing i would change
it took all i had in so many ways
saw others dance until they fell on their face
and still the piper played...
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough
bodies on the floor
unconscious and awake
the piper gave them more;
they took all that he gave
he played a new illusion
while the world began to sway
the dance became delusion
our hearts became the prey
and i danced as he played
and i danced as he pushed
songs that made me crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs went down in my blood
songs that took, stole all the love
until the song had used them up
until that song had had enough
saturday was forgotten
by closing out the early sun rays
many dancers have fallen
lost, forgotten, thrown away
the music was their everything
but again they stayed to late
the song kept them spinning
dancing into a darker place
giving in without hesitance
hypnotized by the pipe's melody
until all became the song and dance
the piper was the only one to play
the piper and the song had demands
but they'd nothing left to give away
all that was left was the pipe's trance
and the dancer became the slave
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs that betrayed
songs not to trust
songs that got heavier
songs itching in their blood
songs that demand the dance
until the song has had enough
that was how sunday ended
and it took several years
now the song gets in my head
and sometimes brings me to tears
now i chose to stand so still
not to give in to what i hear
the song can not destroy my will
the song has nothing left i fear
(2008 & 2010, new orleans, la, usa)
poem by Thomas Quentin Sims
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Pay The Piper
There comes a time
when all of us must pay
the piper so they say.
Pay for all the wrongs
credited to our life,
pay for all the things
we should have done,
but never got around to do.
Pay for any hurt we’ve caused
when came to call
and we never did respond.
No one is ever perfect,
we’ve all got our crosses
that we have to bare.
So when it comes to paying
the piper so they say.
I guess we’ll all have to pay.
21 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Knock.knock who's there for M 'ladyErnestine
The poltergeist, mischievous sprite
who taps and knocks to cause alarm
and can move things about by night.
A nuisance but does little harm.
It is to be found most commonly
up to his scalliwaggery.
Where one approaching puberty
creates him quite unconsciously.
He’s not a separate entity
but an extension of the mind.
Which can act independently
in some way as yet undefined.
Or so psychiatrists believe
and who can prove their words untrue
Their explanations don’t achieve
an end to what is troubling you.
A poltergeist a noisy ghost
does little harm to anyone
. His mostly unsuspecting host
often a girl sometimes a boy.
A child who quite unconsciously
expresses feelings they can’t show
with openness and honesty.
When they mature the ghost will go.
There are some things you can’t explain
no matter how hard you may try.
The experts need to think again
if they’re to solve this mystery.
But they maintain as experts do
that their opinions are correct.
Although sometimes this may be true.
Some times it is not I suspect.
For Poltergeists obey no rules
Although the experts think they do
Just self opinionated fools
who know less than they think they do.
14-Sep-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Blindman
(coverdale)
I was dreaming of the past,
Why do good times never last
Help me jesus, show the way
I cant hold on another day
I was hungry, felling low,
I just couldnt make out which way to go
Chasing rainbows that have no end,
The road is long without friend
Be my friend, be my brother,
Be the piper, play the call
Across the seven seas of wonder
Be the guardian of my soul
Just a young man looking homeward,
Watching the sun go down again
Across the water, the sun is shining,
But, will it ever, will it ever be the same
Be my friend, be my brother,
Be the piper, play the call
Across the seven seas of wonder
Be the guardian of my soul
I need somebody, I need someone,
I need somebody to call my own
Like a blindman, I can feel the heat of the sun,
But, like a blindman
I dont know, I dont know,
I dont know where its coming from
Be my friend, be my brother,
Be the piper, play the call
Across the seven seas of wonder
Be the guardian of my soul
I need somebody, I need someone,
I need somebody to call my own
Like a blindman, I can feel the heat of the sun,
But, like a blindman
I dont know, I dont know,
I dont know where is coming from
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Native Companions Dancing
On the blue plains in wintry days
The stately birds move in the dance.
Keen eyes have they, and quaint old ways
On the blue plains in wintry days.
The Wind, their unseen Piper, plays,
They strut, salute, reatreat, advance;
On the blue plains, in wintry days,
These stately birds move in the dance
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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