Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Reflections of Poetry
Reflections of Poetry
Reflections of Poetry
Ebook221 pages46 minutes

Reflections of Poetry

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Travel through a mirror image into the imaginative world of verse and discover this distinct collection of poetry.

Reflections of Poetry is the third book of poetry by author A. F. Stewart and contains a diverse selection of verse, structured under the headings of Scotland, My Scotland, Irish Ramblings, Celtic Influences, The Moon, The Sea, Art, Nature, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Wonder, Human Emotions, In the Shadow of Death, Humour, and Miscellaneous Musings. It is an assortment of personal thoughts on a wide variety of subjects that inspired the author and is an expression of her view of the world.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherA. F. Stewart
Release dateJan 31, 2013
ISBN9781301660513
Reflections of Poetry
Author

A. F. Stewart

A steadfast and proud sci-fi and fantasy geek, A. F. Stewart was born and raised in Nova Scotia, Canada and still calls it home. The youngest in a family of seven children, she always had an overly creative mind and an active imagination. She favours the dark and deadly when writing—her genres of choice being dark fantasy and horror—but she has been known to venture into the light on occasion. As an indie author she’s published novellas and story collections, with a few side trips into poetry and non-fiction.

Read more from A. F. Stewart

Related to Reflections of Poetry

Related ebooks

Poetry For You

View More

Related articles

Related categories

Reviews for Reflections of Poetry

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Reflections of Poetry - A. F. Stewart

    Scotland, My Scotland

    A selection of poems inspired by my Scottish heritage

    Acrostic Poem: A Scottish Toast

    Sing of old days

    Loud and proud

    All ears shall listen

    In and among friends

    Now we salute you

    The refrains will ring

    Eternally

    Glass held high

    Uisge beatha

    Scotland my heart

    Over fair hills

    I laud your praises

    Reminisce, my fellows

    Remember days past

    Among our history

    I toast to you

    Drink my friends

    Health forever

    Slàinte gu soírraidh: Health forever

    uisge beatha: whiskey (water of life)

    Love in the Highlands

    The sunset o’er the Highland grass,

    wildling heather and deep morass,

    leads the soft step of my pure lass.

    Onward to her sweet dear,

    where he awaits in sailor brass

    and my heart sheds a tear.

    The Piper

    The sweet song of the pipes will ring,

    down the low road I am walking

    my ending step and final spring.

    Death hailed with a cold hand,

    the closing touch its fate did bring.

    Last farewell, my highland.

    Homeland

    The sunrise over Highland heath,

    shines down on an amethyst hue

    wind blows chill over the wild land,

    where always roams the ram and ewe

    Dreamer

    She exhales... breath floating to the trees

    upon a hill, within the shadow of the light,

    where the purple heather greets the breeze.

    Trailing the morning mist, all disquiet flees,

    chased to the mountains by sunshine bright.

    She exhales... breath floating to the trees.

    Across the valley, regard the drone of bees

    kissing sweet blooms in their maiden flight,

    where the purple heather greets the breeze.

    On her skin, scent salted from exotic seas,

    wafting beyond the feathery vapours white.

    She exhales... breath floating to the trees.

    From pipes unseen, a merry tune to please

    the airy spirits of the fairy folk amid delight,

    where the purple heather greets the breeze.

    Her tender memories are woven with these,

    as she dreams of home this darkened night.

    She exhales... breath floating to the trees,

    where the purple heather greets the breeze.

    Echoes of the Heart

    I know the blooming heather calls to me

    and I long to see the wild mountain thyme

    that grows on the hills far past Dundee

    I know the blooming heather calls to me

    With a sprig of plant in my hair flowing free

    to be in those highland hills I ache to climb

    I know the blooming heather calls to me

    and I long to see the wild mountain thyme

    Fiddle Me This

    Tradition sings on the strings

    through the crisp morning air.

    Hand to the bow as they pair.

    Tradition sings on the strings.

    Through the crisp morning air,

    the music plays to the heart.

    Notes calling the fiddler’s art

    through the crisp morning air.

    The music plays to the heart,

    down deep to the tapping toes,

    smiles washing over the rows.

    The music plays to the heart.

    Down deep to the tapping toes,

    harmony, camaraderie, as one

    until his lively tune has spun

    down deep to the tapping toes.

    Harmony, camaraderie, as one

    tradition sings on the strings

    to give the melody its wings.

    Harmony, camaraderie, as one.

    Kitchen Party

    You bring the fiddle, I’ll bring the drum,

    while someone else add a harp to play.

    Across the strings, nimble fingers strum.

    Come in the door, for to sing and sway

    rejoice tonight with the rising moon,

    while someone else add a harp to play.

    Call out the first choice, strike up the

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1