Looking back on my younger days
and in that summer haze
you were the pearl my girl
in my oyster the whole wide world
so many memories
of you me and how we used to be
but of photographs far too few
altho' we did have a laugh a two
now all growing dim and grey
with the fading shades of day
etched in my memory for good
our trips to sunny Spain
and when we went
for a walk in the woods
on the way to the Isle of Wight
the night we were caught
in the freezing rain
no I'm not living in the past
and yet I'll raise a glass
to each and every single day
from over the hills and far away
*Image of Tennyson Cross, Isle of Wight provided by Pixabay.
Forlorn Hope
Poetic Form: Sonnet
Divined amassed, thinly advance their scope
bloodlines warrant one soul's intended quest
persuades enhanced history, constants hope
pastoral guides sculptors essence is blessed
Readiness spurs insights, smoothing passion
unforeseen tests that fool-hearted, not them
their unbidden stare on death's face, cash in
pushed e'er determined, tensing a rose stem
Unchecked horses, intrepid horsemen burst
barrage relents as foe feared those affirmed
lurked rears castle shadows most accursed
chance lights an afront darken all confirmed
Bold few opinions charged submits warlords
fruition won swords gained Heaven rewards
2021 May 08
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (May 18): Judged 2021 May 18
~~Brian Strand
*2nd Place*
This or That, Vol 2
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2021 May 13
*HMS checked 10 syllables x 14 lines.
A witch on a broomstick at night
was veering to left and then right,
she soared and she dipped,
then over she flipped
and swept up the Isle of Wight...
Apologies to anyone who lives on the I of W : )
written 9th October for Tania's Halloween contest
Syllables: 8, 8, 5, 5, 8
First came Storm Ciara
On Sunday the ninth of February
She caused total havoc throughout the UK
Heavy rain brought serious flooding
Her gales so strong brought buildings tumbling
Whilst on the Isle of Wight
The most southerly tip of England
Gusts of ninety seven miles per hour
Uncovered a fossil upon earth’s core
A Dinosaur footprint from a Therapod
Who had strolled along this beach
one hundred and thirty million years before
Now in the throes of wind and rain
Another storm
Another name
He’s called Storm Dennis
Another menace
And he has just arrived
Brings heavy rain and gale force winds
I truly hope we all survive
his havoc and devastation
But like Storm Ciara he may unearth
never before seen hidden treasure
Showing even storms leave positive gifts
for us all to enjoy and explore at our leisure
Written 15th February 2020
Contest Strand No 680
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Instead of names, we're often called
By where we do reside,
So, "Hey, New York!" we're greeted with,
A simple ID guide.
Thus Texas, Fresno, Cleveland
And Kentucky we have met
And Arkansas and others
We have not conversed with yet.
A member of the crew, as well,
Who helped us, with delight,
We learned lives now in London
But was from the Isle of Wight.
So later, in the evening,
While we watched a staged revue,
I realized a performer
Was a friendly face I knew.
The singers mingled with the crowd
At their performance end
And thus I had a chance to chat
With my new English friend.
"Hey, Isle of Wight!" I sang out,
"You were great up on that stage!"
He beamed in recognition,
Such a nice way to engage.
It should be really easy
To get to Grantham right on time
Unless, that is, your Sat Nav
Is as troublesome as mine
I have the postcode ready
And I’m sure I’ve got it right
But my Sat Nav seems to be convinced
It’s on The Isle of Wight!
Now I quite like the main roads
Seeing signs along the way
But my Sat Nav has a cunning plan
To get me there today
It wants for some strange reason
To have a different point of view
To take me on the scenic route
Where there’s no traffic queue
Now I don’t like a line of cars
Through miles of motorway
Though it’s better than the pot holed roads
My Sat Nav thinks I might prefer today
I decided to ignore it
When 50 miles had gone
Big mistake on my part
Cos I’d left the dammed thing on
“Where do you think you’re going?”
It’s tinny voice did say
“You must perform a U Turn”
“Or I’ll find a different way”
I don’t listen to it blindly
And now I’ve got myself a map
So I can get to Grantham
In time to take a nap
I knew a man from Isle of Wight
who often got into a fight.
His words made little sense
and people took offence.
He was, indeed, a blatherskite*.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
*a person who talks at great lengths
without making much sense.
Tiled floor
As I view the old and the new,
The tired and the worn,
Alongside the pristine and sharply defined
The original master plan dulled
With newer, brighter inserts,
I see an untidy cohesion
A compromise
An inability to fully reinstate
Though craftsmen have done their best
Restoring years of alteration and renewal
It is an unholy alliance
Trying to both eye and mind
For it is less than perfect.
But it must do
It is all that is possible.
At a distance, no obvious problem
But on close inspection the joins, the mismatches
Are to be lived with, endured,
Imperfect but workable,
Usable, necessary.
And I must find a way of
.. acceptance.
Lent Retreat
February 2010
This was inspired by the tiled flooring section in front of the memorial to Princess
Elizabeth, in The Minster church of Sts. Thomas, Newport, Isle of Wight, UK. Princess
Elizabeth was the daughter of Charles 1, and died at Carisbrooke Castle where her father
had been imprisoned prior
to his execution in London.
I am standing on top of a cliff,
Its pure white rocks gleaming in the sun.
The sea is gently lashing against them,
I can hear the waves rolling in, one by one.
I am standing at one of the furthest points,
Like someone about to jump.
The soft green grass beneath my feet,
Not a cloud in the clear, clear sky.
The Isle of Wight in the distance,
The sun gleaming down its beams.
The sea is just tumbling on and on, seeming to never end,
It is so still and tranquil, a pin prick would make a ripple.
The air smells sweet and fresh,
As I take a deep breathe in.
The birds up above, calling each other,
Enjoying the warmth of the sun.
I too can feel the sun on my face,
The warm glow of my skin.
I look down underneath me,
And watch the waves tumbling in.
I let out a big sigh.
Forgetting my fear,
Of the height that I am standing at,
Because... summer, is finally here.
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