Owain Glyn


The mist hung low, above the moors
A gentle breeze, caressed the tors.
Ancient boulders, lost in sleep
Buried secrets they would keep.

Up above the buzzards fly
Soaring, soft, dissect the sky.
Below, swift rodents, deftly dance
And measure future with their chance.

Ponies bow their heads to chew
Leaving thought to me, or you.
Yellow gorse, bursts on the scene
While adders seek the sun, unseen.

The beauty that is held herein
Surpasses wrath, and mortal sin.
This is God's own chosen land
It's not for us, to understand.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn

Submitted: Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 20, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

A nature study.

Comments about this poem (Exmoor by Owain Glyn )

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  • Karen Sinclair (5/19/2013 1:28:00 PM)

    a beautiful ode to my favourite lady... ive never been to exmoor before but would love to go... maybe next year... sigh... thanks for this beautiful write...karen (Report) Reply

  • Lynne Fincherspringarden (5/3/2013 4:54:00 PM)

    Absolutely beautiful depiction of this beautiful sacred land. Your words have taken us there to enjoy this beautiful place. I love the opening verse and the ending verse is just perfect. Thank you for taking us to this far away land of beauty. (Report) Reply

  • Ace Of Black Hearts (5/2/2013 10:21:00 PM)

    Beautiful, well worded poem. Definitely way ahead my skill. You have true talent. My favorite section was (Up above the buzzards fly
    Soaring, soft, dissect the sky.
    Below, swift rodents, deftly dance
    And measure future with their chance.)

    I love the metaphors. (Report) Reply

  • Elena Sandu (4/30/2013 9:02:00 PM)

    Beauty is flowing with your pen revealing a fine observer, yes the nature helps to understand that we can be part of its beauty if we can connect. (Report) Reply

Read all 6 comments »

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