Cornwall Poems - Poems about Cornwall

...I think of my Cornish identity, As on a cliff-top bench I sit, And realise that Cornwall is a part of me And I am a part of it, I won’t be taken out of Cornwall And you can’t take Cornwall out o......Read the rest...

...the room is all aglow feel the warmth from the fireplace sitting upon the mantle a vase, Cornwall blue in color within it, seemingly translucent a bouquet of neon daisies......Read the rest...

...I await with bated breath to stand on the shores The land where my mother's last name bores To watch a blade of grass that he may have sowed Or watch the waves crest on the among the crowd To vis......Read the rest...

...I think of my Cornish identity, As on a cliff-top bench I sit, And realise that Cornwall is a part of me And I am a part of it, I won’t be taken out of Cornwall And you can’t take Cornwall out o......Read the rest...

...In the year ninteen eighty one on the nineteenth day of December A day the town of Mousehole in Cornwall, will always remember An R.N.L.I. Watson class wooden lifeboat, the 'Solomon Browne' La......Read the rest...

...I watched A Cornish chough, Flying so Cornish high, Over Cornish cliffs, In a Cornish sky, All Cornish observations, Made by my Cornish eye. I watched The Cornish sun, Masked by a Cornish......Read the rest...

...Cornwall is my homeland And it will always be, A large part of it surrounded, Surrounded by the sea. Cornwall is my homeland, It’s where my roots are deep, And this connection with my forbear......Read the rest...

...Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud, Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud, Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand, Golden frame of a sea cradled land. Fishing village, atmospheric hub, Brass band playing, o......Read the rest...

...Charlotte died in eighteen–forty-four, Murdered on Cornwall’s, On Cornwall’s, Bodmin Moor, Those seeing the ghost are very sure, It’s poor Charlotte, Poor Charlotte, who still walks the moor. ......Read the rest...

...In early eighteen-forty-four, In Cornwall’s heart; on Bodmin Moor, Charlotte Dymond, a young farm maid, Had her throat slit with a steel blade, She crossed fast streams and deadly bogs, Found he......Read the rest...

...Do you feel like a trapped spider In an upturned glass? Do these feelings come and go, Do you think that they might pass? Have your insecurities and doubts Expanded into fears? Have these anxie......Read the rest...

...May we forever be lovers, May we forever be friends, And should we hurt each other, May we quickly make amends. May we enjoy our passion, But never let compassion die, Thinking in selfless te......Read the rest...

...A rover you were, all your working life, But your conscience caught up with you, You chose honourable re-tyre-ment and You're now green through and through. Once you greedily thirsted for petro......Read the rest...

...The Cornish shore … Where golden sand lies next To dappled grey granite rock, Where the sea breeze sweeps And the mussels flock, Where the rock pools gather And the small crabs patrol, Where ......Read the rest...

...In early eighteen-forty-four, In Cornwall’s heart; on Bodmin Moor, Charlotte Dymond, a young farm maid, Had her throat slit with a steel blade, She crossed fast streams and deadly bogs, Found he......Read the rest...