The Haggis

Seen on dreary foggy days,
Across the glens the haggis play.
On Tuesday hunts with guns and hound,
They follow tracks left in the ground,
For 3 legged haggis raid farm and field,
Stealing sheep and oatmeal. These pests found in burrows and digs,
Look a little like baby pigs!
I assure you they aren’t half as sweet,
But in Scotland they are great to eat!

Desperately trying to get caught up, this poem comes from The Untold Stories of Scotland.

I know today is meant for J, but I fell behind due to juggling hospital visits and I’m due to start a new job on Monday. Very up and down time so a little cheating on the challenge is necessary.

My best friend once told me haggis were three legged creatures. I am incredibly gullible but I am not that bad, yet I still wrote this rhyme.

This is my H poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

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The Grock

The Grock is not said but sung,
For the ‘R’ must roll right off the tongue,
There have been many stories said,
That he’ll grind your bones for his bread.
That he steals the sleeping out their room,
And takes them to awaiting doom. For Grock came from way up high,
When the beanstalk fell from the sky.
But be glad that there is only one,
For half the North would be gone!

Ok so I’m cheating a little to get caught up. But really this is where the rest of my a to z has come from. On a trip to Glasgow I was alone in a hotel room for a night and my mind wandered. The Untold Stories of Scotland is the result of such wandering.

Now I know alot of my followers have come across this poem, and the one I have coming up for H, but one of the great things about doing this challenge has been the amount of new visitors. And I’d love to share these little Scot inspired verses with them too.

This is my G poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

The Foreign

Across our land from East to west,
We built a great walled defense,
From the foreign who live beyond divide,
Of whom we do not speak their kind.
With thirst of blood and human flesh,
We stay behind our safety fence.
But when we cross, to our back it looms,
The wall becomes our grave and tomb.

This is my F poem for the A to Z challenge.
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within. You may want to read a couple other poems in my challenge to get the gist.

This one comes from the story of Hadrian’s wall, and the fear of those that lurked beyond it. It’s hugely inspired by The wall in the game of thrones series and books, but it’s our wall and we had one first!!!

A to Z Challenge Theme Revealed

So the time has come, April is almost upon us and the A to Z Challenge starts. This is my second challenge and I have learnt from last year to prepare, so for over a month I’ve been writing notes and rhymes all on my theme…

The Untold Stories of the Northlands

This is something I’ve worked on before but chose to save it for the April A to Z. Whilst on a trip to Glasgow I wrote The Untold Stories of Scotland and ever since wanted to write something similar about the area I live in. The stories you will read over the month are all based on things around Northumberland England, I can’t promise you these tales are 100% true, in fact you’ll be lucky if they are 1% true…

A huge thank you to Arlee Bird for setting up the challenge! I am looking forward to seeing what the month and challenge brings!
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com

The Stories of Scotland

S is for… Stories of Scotland.

Most people are unaware of the dangers that lurk in the depth of Scotland. In 122 AD The Romans crossed the borders into Scotland and were attacked by three legged haggis. Those who survived later met their doom when they came across kelpies, loch Ness and worst of all… The Grock. The Roman Emperor Hadrian built his 80mile wall to protect people from what lurked in the lochs and hid in the highlands. But now, the wall has crumbled and the stories have become nothing but myths… Read my poem to find out the Truth!

The Untold Stories of Scotland

The Untold Stories of Scotland

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I set our tale, and from here we’re lost,
Upon the land of ice and frost,
Where myths lurk within the lochs,
Shadowed by the highland rocks!
Of legends, fables and History,
Cursed and coated in mystery,
On moors and mounds where thistles grow,
Or dusted in the October snow.
In the still, beasts roam and pillage,
And terrify their local village!

Of stories both new and old,
That of Nessie has most been told,
There dwells in water a giant eel,
Where speculation of if it’s real.
Some say it’s legend, just folklore,
Other say it could be a dinosaur.
But I for one would never swim,
In the loch for what’s within,
As if it wanted something to eat,
I’d rather it wasn’t my toes and feet!

Seen on dreary foggy days,
Across the glens the haggis play.
On Tuesday hunts with guns and hound,
They follow tracks left in the ground,
For 3 legged haggis raid farm and field,
Stealing sheep and oatmeal.
These pests found in burrows and digs,
Look a little like baby pigs!
I assure you they aren’t half as sweet,
But in Scotland they are great to eat!

The Kelpies or the water foals,
Feeds on hearts and broken souls.
They have the ability to change,
From glowing eyes and dripping
Mane,
To women whose beauty seeps,
And lures them into waters deep.
As men they can never resist,
The seducing temptation of being kissed.
So stay away from rivers and lakes,
Or yee too shall meet your fate.

The stodge, well it goes best in pies,
And the delicacy is it’s tail and eyes,
These bits are usually best served,
On Hogmanay as hot h’orderves
For it tastes so succulent and sweet,
As it feeds on tatties and ripened neeps.
In the country you will often find,
It Sat grazing on it’s big behind,
Commonly mistaken for a giant rat,
With a little more fur and fat!

The Wulvers are the hairy beasts,
That’ve left the poor a many feast.
They say they are part wolf, part man,
And live in groups called a clan.
In the hills they’re in a cave,
And are not like werewolves behave.
The legend says these mighty boars,
Leave fish and bread outside your doors,
In preparation for what winter brings,
They leave to those, wholesome things.

The Grock is not said but sung,
For the ‘R’ must roll right off the tongue,
There have been many stories said,
That he’ll grind your bones for his bread.
That he steals the sleeping out their room,
And takes them to awaiting doom.
For Grock came from way up high,
When the beanstalk fell from the sky.
But be glad that there is only one,
For half of Scotland would be gone!

For those that live north of here,
Know these are what to fear,
So if you venture past the wall,
Heed that yee have been warned.