Submit your poetry!

Highland Poetry is accepting poems to be published on this blog as well as a chance to be included in our annual E-book. A quarterly E-book is planned as well. The poet will always keep his copyright. Send your poems to this address for consideration. You will be notified very quickly if your poem will be in our growing library. Highland Poetry is an extension of Highland Piano Studios which is an independent record label and home of composer/poet Patrick Lee Hebert. DSC02023Thirty to sixty poems per month will be on the main site. Send all poetry and or questions by clicking the “submit poetry” to the right. While you are at it…follow this blog and check out new poems to enjoy as well as maybe see your own work on these pages.


Patrick Lee Hebert editor

A poem for Thursday.

Now that it is warming up, I miss NH and it’s cool fall. This poem goes back 28 years…YIKES!


How I long for autumn

Sweet ambience…

fiery skies,

dazzle my eyes.


Summer still holds you close

with blistery heat at most.

But a few cool days,

is having your way.

For autumn always follows

migrations of swallows.


if I look real close,

your leaves brown at the edges…

the winds follow your pledges,

and knock down a few early.


How I long for your sweet scent…

early nights…

time well spent.

Dreaming of your return…

How I long for autumn.


LEE    8-19-92



A word and a few poems

The Word? Everywhere!


As an up-coming poet, what do we really want from our poems? Is it recognition? Do we feel like someone may really relate, making us feel known? Maybe just a hobby? Whichever or whatever it is… we need that poem to be seen! Take a look at this quarterly poetry reader. SUBMIT. You will be seen. We have undergone a transition and are now posting weekly or a bit more. All entries will get viewed unless inappropriate. Give it a try. You own your copyright! Always.


Here are the poems: These are from my work ” Hazes” which is free with the click on the right. Suitable for a rainy day!




I have upset the Queen of the forest
Her wrath is kindled against me
She has sent messengers to relate this to me…
because of her anger.
The skies have blackened…
death stalks me…
but I am elusive…
and to imagine…
the Prince is my son…
but he doesn’t know of me…
thus her despising me…
I refused her to tell…
this is my option in this fabricated world.
For I am not the King…
only a lowly court composer…
who writes love songs to the Queen in her chambers…
when the King is off onto the hunt.
He looks like his mother…
thus saving my life.




I have dreamt of the woods
Being among the forest
Golden visions
I could thrive here
The short-lived dramas
Our fantasy worlds
Becoming each other
Not wanting to
I awake in the middle of the night
Feel the wind on my face
I am forced to relent
It is just too revealing
These thoughts come in all seasons
Nostalgia can be overwhelming
And it is amazing
I would rather live in that

A poem for Tuesday: The Jealousy of the Moon.

In 1998 I released a piano solo by the same title on my second album ” The Poet’s Dream”. I wrote the poem in 1992 and the song started it’s journey soon after. I wrote it over a year’s time and didn’t write the intro until the actual recording itself! Crazy! I have played this song for 20 plus years in concerts halls all over. Here is a link to the song: “The Jealousy of the Moon”   I have no idea where the cover pic came from. Youtube is confused. LOL


Now the poem:







The moon leaks down her amber glow

ruling the night she knows.

She sees the significance of the sun

and the power he has won.


In insane jealousy,

she changes the tides

causes women terrible pain

monthly strides.


Without the sun,

she cannot shine at night

because she has no light of her own.

This makes her jealous.

Besides, most people are awake in the day

to see the sun in his brilliance

while most everyone sleeps when she comes out.

She is lonely and becomes jealous.

But cunning is the moon,

chanting recompense

ruling the night.

She is unmatched in her influence.

Darkness her favor…

Jealousy her power…

Seasons befall her changes…

Petty revenge.

A poem for Saturday.

Lazy Day…thinking of poetry. Here is one from the early 2000’s called ” Depression” A strange symbolic form I use now and then.






Would you recognize death…

if he introduced himself?

Would you recite meaningless remarks at his passing?

Do you think you would ask him in for a spell of conversation?

Do you think you would want to know what he has to say?

I bet not.

Would you ask him to leave even if he refused?

Try to force him maybe?

Do you think you have more power or wisdom than He?

I bet not.

Although…you do have life…

which he is covetous of…

and he is dead..

but not to himself…

this is what makes his job so enjoyable.




would  you recognize death…

if he came for you?

Would you welcome him or…

offer him something else to appease his hunger…

you know…


like depression or something?

A poem for Monday

From mid 2016…blah, it’s Monday!


What to do when the past makes an appearance

Things thought dormant arise to remind

Trust is a luxury in this tainted world

A world I am forced to travel


Feeling hopeless is so easy to fall into

The world is waiting to crash down

Just a thin membrane of courage

Stopping total madness


I will never again fall prey to the dark

The somber feelings of dread

I feel watching me through my own eyes

People never really change I am told


I write a melancholy tune

To accompany my mood

Being a composer and a poet

Is a lasting and inevitable curse


Patrick Lee Hebert

A poem about my Dad’s passing.

This has been a difficult time for me with my Dad passing on Memorial Day! Very fitting seeing he was a war hero. I wrote this to explain how I feel now…there is hope at the end!


There is a knowing in the wind

I have lost and become shelled

I can see the reasons I grieve

Easy right?


Not when a thousand memories re-surface

To remind you that you are still a child

You have not grown in awhile

You are like a swamp…always expanding.


Negative thoughts

Give rise to negative actions

Don’t be fooled

They are here now….


You may be a fool for a bit…

Until the waves lap over you finally

I don’t mean death…

I mean life…look forward for God’s sake.

Saturday at 12:30 AM…God only knows.

Enjoy Patrick Lee Hebert and son recounting the days of youth and mis-understanding in this live ( at the time) gathering of soul speak.


Thoughts about reality… a 12:30 Am Excursion.


Patrick Lee Hebert and Patrick Lee Hebert II


The restlessness of the people is amazing

They swear to Gods unheard

They worship beings that have no spirit…

They plug into a black world.


Picturing a painting

Still life image

The colours and hue never were there

Impressionistic imaginations and watercolor thoughts


When I was young

A man came to our village

Speaking of the end

Speaking at me.


Once I thought about the moon and

Her conversations

Whispering on the cold breeze of



Love flits like a dragonfly

You swear she loves only you

Who are you to guess at such things

You have been betrayed brother.




Dreaming a dream…..

While inside a dream….

Makes a bit of difference I think….

At least I think….


Power unlimited

Failure sensed through dreaming

Never really knew her


Broke my damn heart she did.


Awake to see that sky

Dreaming of being alive

Thinking of the melody of the trees

Nobody sees……


We laughed so loud it was unreal

We became fools for the spotlight of reason

We became whores for the solidarity of the races

We became embryotic fluid for God’s sake!…can you say why?


Yet again…

The night comes alive and speaks

The trees whisper their ancient melody

To recount the tales of heroes of men


Silent sentinels linger

Over the bones of men who fought

For the freedom of thought

And realized the futility.


Toutes ces choses sont les fabrications des hommes…

Des petits reves et des fantasies

Tout dans ma tete

C’est pleine des trucs comme ca


Je suis desole pour l’honte

J’était sure

J’était un homme natural

Maintenant…je suis malheureux


Ses yeux… Ses cheveux…

Habille en toute noire

C’était la premiere fois qu’on est recontre

Je me souviens pas

A poem about peace

She waits for me

In the meadow across the way

Shy and contained

Her love reaches


There is a brook

Quick and spirited where

She laments my passing

She thinks I do not see her


Every day I pass

Hoping for a glimpse of her

Not knowing she hides in the trees

Hoping for the same


I continue alone

Forsaken it seems

I think I can feel her

Want to know her


It has been centuries

But time has no place here

One of these days

We will both see

A poem for a Monday.

Suppose you want the sky
But the earth is offered
What about the sea
Dry land for choice this time

Seemingly alarmed you ask for wind
They give you rain
You will settle for a breeze
A blizzard occurs

Some give up and wait
Some give up and take the offer
I will watch from my window
Let the world unfurl around me

Make no decision now they say
Wait till tomorrow
Maybe what you want will come
I don’t believe it and decide to dream instead…


Skies and sea
Breezes and sun
Contented dreams
Living there is my dream…

No-one can take it from me

A few poems for Thursday

I wrote this for my lovely wife Caroline several years ago.




Sometimes love is like ashes

memories blowing in the wind

loving the scent of wood burning

passion on fire with hope


Walking home in autumn

the breeze shifts the leaves

such is everyday life when you are in love

the journey so pleasant


Filled with longing

hoping to see your face

in my dreams

when I open the door…you are there


Love is like ashes

memories blowing in the wind

the best part for me

is knowing it is you



I wrote this in 2006 after one of the worst trials of my life…has a good ending though!


The house was still furnished

when you vacated our life

leaving me with Christmas memories

only two days old.


It took a week to remove everything

which I began immediately

even the pieces of tape

where pictures of us once hung…


I remember how the tree, still decorated

flew off the back of the over-packed truck

over the bridge and into the river

a cry of madness leaving my lips.


I returned every night for a week

scrubbing and washing

all the surfaces we leaned on

loved on…


Until every vestige was gone

any proof we lived there…gone


Before I left forever

I looked upon the outside of the dwelling

that was to be a new life for us

a new start from a mind only half healed


I saw a wind chime

hanging from the corner…

gently singing in the January night breeze…


I took it and walked away

never to return there again

going home to hang

in a new but familiar corner…alone.


Four years later

that same murmuring singer of wind songs

hangs from the house where we now reside

reminding me of a mind that has healed much further…


We are together again…

The wind chimes prove it…

Singing the same song…for different reasons…