I am all over Wiltshire
High up on the hills
I am immune from fire
To tourists I give thrills
You can see me from afar
By plane, on foot or in a car
I am as old as time can be
Many people have come to see
You can walk up close to stroke me
It can be a tiring experience
But when you reach me you will see
I am part of a greater sequence
I am one of thirteen
But five have sadly been lost
Leaving 8 of us to be seen
The other 5 are waiting to be uncrossed
I am the second oldest in wiltshire
Cut in seventeen eighty
There are even some of us in Yorkshire
So drive along the A4 a don't be lazy
Park up in the lay-by at the foot of my hill
Choose a path to the summit
Breathing heavy yes you will
The scenery at the top will be worth it
You can see miles and miles
From Calne, Avebury and Devizes
Stand at the monument starting as rock piles
Take a picnic and see all the other surprises
Has Summer gone? Oh God, she was divine
Those crazy kisses, that incessant heat
Last seen by The Red Lion on the street
And off to Swindon on the 49 -
Another bus is coming, so it’s fine
That Autumn makes an old heart skip a beat
Her hazy colours, and her scents as sweet
As blackberries that tumble from the vine
We stand here by the bus stop, and the breeze
Blows chillier than yesterday - we wait
She won’t be long, although she’s sometimes late
(Devizes traffic, everyone agrees)
Less leaves than yesterday - we watch them fall
She has to come from Trowbridge, after all
© Gail Foster 21st September 2019
Wiltshire is a lovely place too be
A county with plenty of history
Neolithic rocks from north to south
You can even see a white horses mouth
With walks over undulating ground
Find the mystery of the giants mound
You can see where the soldiers train
On the expansive Salisbury Plain
With white horses carved into the hill
Walk around them enjoy the thrill
If you are not able to do the walks
Visit the heritage centers hear the talks
But if all else fails jump into the car
You can easily see them from afar
No queuing required and it's free
Come to Wiltshire and you will see
Stonehenge, Avebury stones too name but afew
I guarantee you will go phew
Ingenuity of the people before
Its amazing, it will not bore
Moving those rocks that weigh a tonne
Without machinery just father and son
Carving horses into those chalky hills
Showing us, all thier artistic skills
So visit Wiltshire and see these sights
Plenty to do from morning to night
Let the country air cover your face
Do this slowly it's not a race
Enjoy your trip to this county
Paradise Yes without the bounty
Meet the locals and have a chat
Enjoy a cider you can't beat that
Cold, grey stone in formation stand,
Old standing stones, they gathered round,
Around the magic close to hand,
Old hands that grasped the Pagan ground.
The joyous come to dance and sing,
They sing the tales the ancients told,
The stories told by bards of spring
That spring shall come end winter’s cold.
All seasons turn upon the wheel,
The wheel of life that never ends,
At winter’s end the warmth we feel,
All feeling the path springtime wends.
Form: Wreathed Quatrains
The place where living dances with the dead,
Spirits gather to hear what wise ones said,
The mysteries that joins the heart and head
Are never lost in ritualistic stead.
In this, a sacred place of weathered stone
Where I can be but I’m never alone
With ancient spirits that I call my own
My soul can reach beyond mere flesh and bone.
It’s here where nature shall reveal her face
And touch my wanting heart with loving grace
As I kneel and pray in her sacred space.
I’m not alone as Lady, I am thine
And now my lips can taste thy sacred wine
Silent my thoughts to touch your sweet divine
Round goes the spiral
looping the path.
Straight stand the stones
high in green grass.
Round goes the moat
circling the tor;
solitary stanchion saracens
high altars they bore.
Round goes the blood
red twining the past
tall stand the grave stones
memories n’er made to last.
Round goes the gate
in the churchyards mall
through walks the sacred
peacocks ashen white pall.
Round go the penitents
lead through the hatch
lonesome lost lifetimes
Avebury’s dispatch.
Avebury a Wiltshire village low
To windswept beacon of Ivinghoe.
Eighty-five miles,vale and hill
Wayfare freedoms,exhilarate and thrill.
Striding downs in grassy scrub
Midst trees and clumps of shrub;
Shaded lanes,gates and stiles,
Wayside pubs to rest awhile.
Overton to Wantage plain
Goring and Streatly in the rain;
Chinnor to Bledlow,in freezing chill,
To Buckmoor,Chequers and Coombe Hill.
Wendover to Hastoe through morning dew
Wigginton,Albury onto Beacon view;
Natural history and species now rare,
Time to idle or just stand and stare.
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