Best Wiltshire Poems
Decades of mystic dreamers have worn the path
trod across the leys, coupling pairs within Stonehenge.
Beneath the Wiltshire skies cornflower blue; they lust,
lotus-eaters, loose-limbed, seeking a blessed outcome.
With longing strides-- they reach, climbing earthen berms
to add their lovers song to move with the cycles.
Some take the blessed day, others wait the pearly moon.
See her so fairy fair dressed in naught but moonlight?
Watch his black-haired beast rise once encircled by her arms.
Back pressed against the dolmens, her heels wreath his waist
as virgin blood runs red like the holly berries
to feed the holy earth, she'll bear his child; she trusts.
Categories:
wiltshire, desire, devotion, love, mythology,
Form:
Alexandrine
Written for the Winter Solstice sunrise at Avebury, Wiltshire, England
I have waited for you
Where no shadow seeps
Deep in the earth
Where the slow damp creeps
Under the stones
Where the sunlight sleeps
I have waited for you
I have listened for you
In the eaglet’s cry
In the echoes of rooks
In the empty sky
In a new born’s breath
And a dead man’s sigh
I have listened for you
I have looked for you
Where the elders grow
Followed your steps
Through the virgin snow
Through groves of yew
And mistletoe
Looking for you
I have watched for you
By the door and the gate
Risen up early
And lain down late
Doubted your love
And cursed my fate
Watching for you
You said you would come
You said that you will
Appear as the dawn
On the curve of the hill
I have waited for you
Through the dark, and the still
You said you would come
I lit you a fire
I kindled a flame
In the fear of the darkness
I called out your name
I thought I was dying
And then you came
You said you would come
And here you are
The promise of light
Sweetening silence
And softening night
And all shall be well
And be blesséd delight
You said you would come
© Gail Foster 21st December 2016
Categories:
wiltshire, england, light, longing, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
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
Categories:
wiltshire, history, image, nature, vacation,
Form:
Free verse
Devizes, Wiltshire; New Year's Eve
The cyclist sees, in the edge of her eye
Fireworks flash in the distant beyond
Ghostly swans on the dark of the pond
The old lights of Christmas go glittering by
The cyclist sees, in the edge of her eye
Houses shimmer with sparkling rain
Curtains drawn on sorrow and pain
The old lights of Christmas go glittering by
The cyclist sees, in the edge of her eye
Stars wheel over the Market Place
The shift of a shadow on Ceres’ face
The old lights of Christmas go glittering by
© Gail Foster 31st December 2016
Categories:
wiltshire, christmas, journey, light, new
Form:
Rhyme
A DEDICATION
RAPPING BROOKS
~~~~~~~~~~
Many brooks I've heard rapping,
I dance with joy, end up clapping.
All have spirit, what err the land,
meandering journeys nature planned.
To sit on their banks, meditating,
to them babbling over rocks, relating.
To times gone by in Wiltshire,
I first dedicated my heart to nature.
No regrets, not ever on my part,
bar one, humans, they broke their hearts.
Most brooks now dehydrated, gone,
but hark, their spirits still rap on,
memories, the day spent on their banks.
Evoked by you Eve, my special thanks.
Categories:
wiltshire, nature,
Form:
Free verse
In my youth I recall
A song by Pink Floyd
Called 'The Wall'
It Discussed
Where Fear Resides
Deep Inside
Behind Tortured Eyes
I suppose I should have mentioned
A Berlin Wall
Of Cold War Tensions
It Arose To Demarcate
Philosophical Differences
Of Nations States
Killing People
It stood topped with razor wire
Machine gun towers
From which to fire
Cold Grey Concrete Slaps
Separating A German City
Owner Occupied via sights
It lacked anything to do with pity
But then after all
What are walls for
But to surround and enclose
So those who build them
Can wriggle their toes
Sleeping safe in summer nights
Ignorant of outside fights
Man has built walls
For generations
A Chinese One
A celebration
Hadrian
When all said and done
He built one and not for fun
So now today we hear the news
About how politicians
And the media
Wish to steer our views
An american
Working hard
Uses one as an election card
And what about Greece
Where Walls of Wire
Now are preventing release
Of a situation so dire
We changed its name
From part of humanity
To being a refugee insanity
For what we know
Because History
Tells us so
Is that Walls appear
When we live in fear
And are unable
To find an answer near
So what does that say
As we wend our way
In Wiltshire and Sunny Somerford
Do we raise a glass
Yell Kiss our 'hand'
Accepting no human brotherhood
Can fit in our Porsche
Is that the correct course
Is it at all feasible
That civil unrest
Will create a test
That overflows our peace
Bringing War Near
And Not just Greece
So I'd like you now
To take a hand
Of someone you love
And imagine
If you'd take a stand
Join the push and shove
To save them
For each wall now
Each brick
Is a mark of fear
As it rises tall
There are no surprises
For we hide with walls
Whats on the other side
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Categories:
wiltshire, anxiety, discrimination, england, fear,
Form:
The night before the longest day a man
Went walking on the chalk path on the hill
Collecting stars. He had a little pan
To sift them as they fall, for fall they will
Some crumble quickly into silver dust
But others do remain, and of them rings
Are made, and spells to satiate the lust
Of wild priestesses and of summer kings
He sifted them, and as he sifted sang
A song of summer roses soft as smoke
And mists that in the early morning hang
Above the barrows and around the oak
The oak. He felt the roots before he saw
The leaves, and felt the leaves around his head
Before he saw that he was stood before
The wild priestess. 'You summoned me' she said
Her skin was light and luminous, her eyes
Were blue as sky with flecks of rose and gold
Her dress was made of silk and butterflies
With meadow flowers slid in every fold
And she was old and wise as was the wren
That sat upon her shoulder, and as young
As any maiden had appeared to men
Who had their songs of love and longing sung
He gazed in awe. So bright was she that he
Could barely see his hand before his face
What was that feeling? Electricity?
That caused his blood to round his body race
And that, that buzz, that buzzing like a bee
But louder, buzzing outside and within
And beating, like a drum within the tree
Within his soul an old and holy din
She took his hand. The last thing that he saw
Was her in all her glory as her dress
Of butterflies flew slowly to the floor
His fingers on her body, her caress
She laid him down. The last thing that he heard
Was sizzling, and the fizzle of a flame
And high above the whistle of a bird
A song about a King who had no name
'It was the lightning done for him' the folk
Did whisper, 'and so say there was a swarm
Of bees around the oak before the smoke
And some do say they saw a figure form'
'A woman?' 'So they say. And with a wren'
The old man nodded wisely. 'That was She
The wild priestess, and He the king again
And all is well as ever. Blessed be'
© Gail Foster 17th June 2022
Categories:
wiltshire, england, love, magic, mystery,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
The holidays are at an end
Lots of money we did spend
With trips away
Out for the day
Lots of fun
In the rare English sun
Day on a farm with lots of hens
And alpaca and pigs in there pens
A butterfly sanctuary with moths too
Showing wings that were bright blue
A trip to the beach
And play in the sea
Splashing in the water
My sister and me
A visit to the grandparents
With lots of treats
A trip to the cinema
With popcorn and sweets
A Barbeque at nanny's we then had
We helped cook with our grandad
Burgers and hot dogs and salad to eat
This was daddy's birthday treat
Dinosaur hunting we did go
Being careful and going slow
All the tracks we had to follow
Finding bones that were hollow
A train ride we had was exciting
The whistle blow was quite frightening
Back to Wiltshire was our trip
Mind the gap please don't slip
Now back at mummies
With stories to tell
Our summer holidays
Have been real swell
Back to school in our new gear
Top of the class have no fear
With reading and writing
And lots to do
I'm real glad I'm back to school
Holidays are over but fun was had
Great adventures with Mum and my Dad
Categories:
wiltshire, beach, butterfly, child, holiday,
Form:
Sonnet
What bird is this, I ask the man, that flies
The silken skies with shining knives for wings
We watch it slice the light above The Vize
And swoop and rise, and circle as it sings
Its melancholy song. I see him smile
A bird that beats the sparrows to the crack
Of dawn, he says. We stand a little while
I blink. It flies to Bristol, and flies back
He smiles again, and suddenly a tear
Appears to dance a trickle down his face
The bird has flown a sickly chick, my dear
To half a chance, and half a hope of grace
It flew me once. I look at him. Flew you?
Yes, me, he said. And someone else I knew
© Gail Foster 21st January 2018
Categories:
wiltshire, bird, flying, health, hope,
Form:
Sonnet
When I was a kid, I know, long ago,
We scrumped apples from neighbours orchards,
Climbed trees, scared bees, skinned our knees,
And once, quite daft, built a raft on the river exe,
Which upended before I knew about vanishing stability,
Or indeed, even my own ability, to do important stuff, like swim,
And my parents felt in charge, unaware of that near insanity,
Life was adventurous, often dangerous, pleasant calamity.
After all, boys will be boys!
Now today, I hear folk rein their children in,
Its considered a sin to even think of doing wrong,
Like pre-pubescent fun fair balloons,
Modern minor loons are floated on virtual strings,
That report everything, each step, each minor misdirect,
Social media monitored, mobile device ahead of vices,
No chances to learn how to exist around even minor risk,
As parenthood clashes charged glasses, after classes,
Why boys cannot be boys.
We learnt to stand firm in a boxing ring, ears ringing,
Whilst on the rugby field we were stamped into shape,
Little gingerbread dough boys, crusted up into teenage loaves,
That may not have been to everyones politically correct taste,
But no matter the blame, we learned to stand, just the same,
And despite accusations today we were neglected,
I grew up in a World where our parents were respected,
For we leant quickly the need to hear them often say,
But officer, boys will be boys.
@Andrew Carnegie, Wiltshire, January 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Categories:
wiltshire, character, childhood, family, father
Form:
Free verse
Words from Wiltshire
Hard to define all
You say Mildenhall
And I say Minal
“Ere, whasson?”
We say in Wiltshire
“Ere, areet then?”
“Mine’s a 6Xy beer”
”Catch you laters...”
(Sorry, when?)
by Gail
Categories:
wiltshire, confusion, england, home, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
The Search to Find the Edge of the Ice
They say moss doesn't gather on a stone rolling, in motion,
And even wise algae gets left in the wake,
Of a proud ship, foresail dipped, rising upon an ocean,
Yet what of the movement of cold, blued, polar ice,
Where humanity has no known device,
That can truly assess each crevasse like a human eye,
Not wafting past, digitising from way up high,
But the eye picking out subtle changes,
The sense of touch, of feeling crumbling, matters much,
And no satellite can be quite right as the human nose,
Smelling fauna, or the stench of rotting, dead plants or fish,
For ice recedes its movement gathers stones,
But it reveals things, that satellites alone,
Can never bring to assess, without assumption in that process,
And so a legend of arctic exploration abandons long treks,
Or climbing mountains, and not due to getting older,
Indeed using boats for a landlubber is getting bolder,
Taking stock of the after shock,
The Northwest passage laid out, like a virgin on a wedding night,
Internally sobbing for the state our world is in,
For there was no ice, not even enough for a consoling gin,
The long march of humanity's future discontent,
Requires assessment, a global response to a new war cry,
Come Europe, Come China, Come India, Come America,
Come hear the cry of the Canadian northwest,
Of the fears of Greenland becoming a new forest,
Come Australasia, Russia too, come all countries, much to do,
For we must rise to assess the circumstance of the ice regress,
To prevent surprise, loss of our world's bequest,
And pushing forward the advance guard of this new challenge,
Is Sir David's team, the polar ocean phalanx,
Not sat around at home in comfy armchairs,
But doing something, going somewhere, to show we care,
Seeking to find and monitor and report back,
Crucial knowledge that currently we lack,
For how can we plan to avoid our worlds future sorrows,
If we do not make an effort to find out for our tomorrow,
Where exactly is the edge of the ice, which today no device,
Can show in a way that all of human kind can know,
Does the ice recede or simply ebb and flow,
Stand up, man up, pay up, support them,
Lets see them depart and sail,
To find this century’s holy grail,
The search to find ‘The Edge of the Ice’.
@Andrew Carnegie, Challenged in Wiltshire, Jan 12th 2017.
Categories:
wiltshire, adventure, courage, encouraging, environment,
Form:
Free verse
Sexist Selective's
I’m getting old, easily confused,
So things take time to sink in,
Especially, from around our World,
Issues to behold, such daily news.
Now for some todays big thing to spoil it,
Is not famine or drought,
Nor is it the prospect of an impending war,
It seems Texas creates a controversial toilet.
In fact it has not actually created anything,
Merely stated that men born men are men,
And legislated that ladies, once again,
Are also ladies, which creates a sting.
You see the joy of the image of humanity,
Is our constant striving to adapt and change,
In this case gender is on the page,
Creating this particular new insanity.
For quite understandably, those we have changed,
Wish to be seen in the image of their new rights,
Men are now men, once again based on latest measure,
Ladies also, now could have been born a different range.
Now it strikes me, its really not that hard,
That the real issue here is the segregation of toilets,
Its the toilets that are the sexist selective’s,
Why not change their design, its not that hard.
Today, given the blessing of a flushing loo,
Which is denied to nearly half our World,
Surely we just have loo’s, no more hullabaloo,
All toilets unisex, the kindest and easiest thing we can do!
@Andrew Carnegie, flushing environmentally, Wiltshire Jan 6th 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Categories:
wiltshire, angst, care, change, christian,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Prayer
We forgot to pray today,
Our mutual supplication,
Benefaction via genuflection,
The midweek start to day,
And we forgot to pray.
We forgot that perfection,
Become a broken situation,
That our human condition,
Was of our own volition,
And we forgot to pray.
We forgot that God’s promise,
Was not to be controlling,
But in a relationship evolving,
That God needs constant permission,
But we forgot to pray.
We forgot to see the simple things,
The rise of sun and dimple things,
Birdsong on a frosty mourn,
The breath of life that does adorn,
And we forgot to pray.
So as we forgot to pray,
Dear God thank you for this day,
Thank you for all that we survey,
That we are fearfully but wondrously made,
And sorry we forgot to pray.
@Andrew Carnegie, Apologetic in Wiltshire, January 5th 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Categories:
wiltshire, christian, faith, family, god,
Form:
Quintain (English)
autumn rainbows stripe
vegetable september
across bromham fields;
roundway island, hazed in mist
on a marrow orange sea
wiltshire sunbeams fall
gold on the cockle pickers
green fields, fishermen;
down fruit littered ditches glint
glitter strewn rivers of light
© Gail Foster September 16th 2016
Categories:
wiltshire, autumn, beauty, earth, england,
Form:
Tanka