Best Mill Poems

Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the...

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I was once a little twig with dreams of being a mighty tree
So people would come from all around just to look at me
As the...

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(The memories are simple, living the feeling significant)

After conquering Beamsley Beacon due Southwest,
Rombald’s moor stood, while for centuries
within the valley the minute dwellings
of grey stone,...

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One pitch black night I was driving home and was ready for my bed
My usual route was closed for repairs so I took the minor...

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T’was flair from the cobbles that drove the loom
with forced hardy sweat they laboured till eve
a family tradition from the womb
with threaded shuttle and reed...

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Along the road called forestry, the silver ash weeps over me
as I meander 'round the dell and glade.
Pass scars of sand pits long disused, where...

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There once was a fox, as wise as can be,
 He lived in the hollow of an old oak tree.
 Not so very far from...

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I am given to you by Creator Himself
My Limbs long to grow straight and tall
Bathed in sunlight from above, paying homage
Fulfilling my God given task
From...

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From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied  flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On...

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Let me tell you a story....
of a little girl who didn't want to be a Princess!!!!

it happened a long time ago, in the life of an adorable...

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Hereabouts the thinning glades
Of sparse grey Birches:
Brackens crisp copper tresses 
All aglow;
Gently waking Snowdrops
Lift their sleepy heads
From leafy beds of woodland moil,
When tucked snugly up,
Out...

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Remembering the days of yesteryear
when family ties were held most dear,
gas lamps flickered in the back street
while most of us danced a different beat.
Tragic alleyways...

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The Village of Hardine

The Village of the Windmill

I may do things the old way
Milling grain with windmill dreams
Slowly, that's how we caress our desires
While the...

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I meander through verdant valley
where meadows collide in windswept jade,
hillsides bathe in summer sunshine
and oceans of clouds, commit to shade.

Moorland sheep laze in woolly clusters
creating...

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How I loved spending a week of the summer holidays with my grandparents. Gramps would come and pick me up in his old pick- up...

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