Short Lake District Poems

Languid days of Summer set me afire
Amber sun beams delight my heart.
King Fishers as they dart past
Each one swoops as it flies to its post.

Down by the river's edge
I watch, and listen-
See each one as it dives -
Then, back to its perch.
Resting there awhile as life flows by.
In the still silence I hear each sound of
Calm waves which gently lap creating
Tranquil sounds that abound.

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A good old duck, a mother hen, 
a friend of Peter Rabbit; chased 
Mr. McGregor out of the garden: 
the Flopsy Bunnies survive again.  

She knew her ewes from her rams, 
meticulous, house-proud in her way. 
A hedgehog, a Mrs. Tiggy Winkle 
every field mouse allowed to stay. 

Cumbria and the Lake District 
will never see her like again: 
North country girl, illustrator, 
storyteller with brush and pen....

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Brecon Beacons for pony-treks,
Cumbrian fells and bubbling becks;
Lake District views beloved of bards
Stone-bridged hamlets in the 
Dales with enclosed leas along its vales.
Snowdonia ,one thousand yards high 
reached by slow trains up to the sky.
Pembroke with its distant trail so 
long,
heritages for us to protect and prolong.

National treasures to preserve and 
enjoy by rich,...the famous ...and hoi poloi....

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Vincent Van Gogh
gave Starry Nights their lucent glow.
Then he took a pair of shears
and cut off his unsuspecting ear.

John Lennon
never once reeled his pen in.
He wrote and sang what he pleased,
raising hell while promoting peace.

William Wordsworth
worshipped this fickle earth.
With England's vast Lake District, 
his tortured soul instantly clicked.

Art Clokey,
creator of Gumby and Pokey.
With no real wisdom to relay,
he distracted us with nonsensical clay....

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