Tag Archives: #Moor

“There’s always mizzle on the moor!”

“There’s always mizzle on the moor!”

“More?”

“Yes.”

“On the moor?”

“Always on the moor

knocking on the door

wanting to come in;

and there’s this little church

the mizzle seems to search it out

and when it finds it

it hides it

within.”

“It’s a sin!”

“That it is.”

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“There’s more mizzle on the moor!”

“There’s more mizzle on the moor!”

“There’s more mizzle on the moor!”

‘Again?’ we question –

as if it was unusual.

Since the Tin miners departed,

all we have left is Irony.

They went around the globe –

not the pub –

and, now, there can be found

at the bottom of every hole in the ground

a Cornishman digging his way home.

Out on the Moor 11-10-2015

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Out on the Moor 11-10-2015

Out on the moor
There is a cooling breeze
And a morning’s heat
“And they call the wind, Maria.’

Out on the moor
There is an openness of space
And a sparse hoarseness of gorse
And the odd horse
‘And they call the sun, Apollo.’

Out on the moor
There is time and tide
That waits for no man
Not even me
‘And they call the moor, Othello.’

MoorCat Poems Please!

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People say that there should be

MoorCat Poems

So, I thought that I’d write one, or three, or more.
But, probably just the one.

So,

Moorcat, Moorcat on the loose
Are you wild about the moose
Or do you have no opinion on the matter
Of whether you eat your fish in batter;
And are suchlike questions perturbing your mind?
Are they?