‘far from the madding crowds’ and cars
this ‘green and pleasant’ land of ours
conceals behind its dry stone walls
secrets, streams and waterfalls
where stepping stones that gather moss
‘shine forth’ and tempt us both across
to distant fields of eighties’ skies
now clouded through autumnal eyes
where sheep still bleat as we both pass
along old paths of weathered grass
rekindling thoughts as each track weaves
of first love, hope and burning leaves
that once infused a simpler air
but linger still inside somewhere
to guide us on those wistful miles
through woods, past farms and over stiles
in search of where we sat and spent
time dreaming dreams of dreams we dreamt
over the hills and far away
inside a world called yesterday
and where we’d stay ‘til light turned late
in fields beyond the kissing gate
where now through gentle smiles and tears
reflecting on those forty years
it feels like time has flown so fast
since young love asked if love could last.
Alongside a Chiltern chalkstream
I lay me down to dream
of
country paths stiles & steep slopes
those days
long ago
filled with hope
I dreamed of days
of summer sun
when my life had just begun
climbing trees &cricket on the green
& the first time
I made the school team
Football with coats & bat& ball
bonfire night &fireworks
in the Fall
carol singing through silent streets
paper chains &
Christmas treats.
We walked through fields of flaxen wheat
Crossed country lanes and ancient stiles,
We forded streams in joyous mood
It seemed we walked for miles and miles.
Way afar church bells rang out
Calling the flock to come and pray,
We listened to those plaintive peals
And with lifted hearts went on our way.
Through the woods we picked a path
Which to us was not unknown,
Yet to those who knew it not
It was but wild and overgrown.
Then towards our secret glade
A place of happiness and bliss,
Where the sweetest of our memories dwell
Where my love and I shared our first kiss.
Entry for
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (21) ,any form, any theme Poetry Contest
12/8/2020. Placed=1st.
Nature trail extends for miles
Surrounded by wetlands and lakes
Each step I take brings me closer
To an old plantation, where I climb the stiles
For it was here that slaves once toiled
To raise and harvest sugar cane
Their cries and moans can still be heard
And the Plantation’s magic is spoiled
Within this forest are the echoes
Of every gasp, every word
Slaves once uttered in their daily trials
In these deep woods, far from the meadows
Spanish settlers claimed this site
Where Natives suffered in their plight
Shadowy specters never kissed by sunlight
Reverberating sadness in a world void of light
Written February 19, 2020
N/A in Joseph May's “Lines to Awaken Your Muse” poetry contest, judged March 2, 2020.
Line Chosen: #4 by Robert Frost - “Whose woods these are, I think I know”
I walked the countryside for miles
I forded streams, I straddled stiles,
Taking joy from every tree
Lost in nature's reverie.
A woodpecker's staccato beat
Put rhythm in my weary feet,
In the shadows there, a deer
Unaware that I was near.
Grazing quietly in the trees
A gentle creature at it's ease.
Just a moment caught in time,
A moment though, that was mine.
Mother nature gave to me
That precious gift, a memory.
A day I had of near perfection,
A day to savour, in reflection.
FOR YOU I LIVE
~~~~~~~~~~~
My mind now lost.
Your words drown mine.
I shout my love,
the world can hear.
My mind now lost,
at what the cost.
Your love for me?
Oh, my don't leave!
We have just met,
the sun not set,
let it not go,
I love you so.
We have, don't shrug,
please take my love.
In terms of time,
all will be fine.
Ten times, four begs,
those miles of smiles,
walked on strong legs,
climbed all those stiles.
My mind is lost,
we have the love,
don't let it cost,
we must not shove.
Love can go on.
Your hand in mine.
Hear that old song?
True love, come dine.
O, till the end,
true love I give.
You I will tend.
For you, I live.
It’s over and the drugs are wearing off
As suffering returns, we cease to scoff
At those post-ops who bitterly complain
Of “agony” or “unbearable pain”
And for whom words of sympathy or worse
Are encapsulated sometimes in verse
On an expensive store-bought greetings card
In poor doggerel that insults the Bard
And though I do not even try to claim
My work in any way can match his fame
I feel compelled to write these words for you
As you might be anxious and feeling blue
Wondering how you’ll feel in the future
Once the nurse removes that final suture
From the site of your new hip replacement
Transforming your life to your amazement
You’ll soon be ascending mighty mountains
Or splashing around in public fountains
Clambering up over countryside stiles
Running or yomping for dozens of miles
Gazelle-like soaring over 5-barred gates
And everywhere zooming on roller skates
For many months you’ve been acting stoic
Now achieve something really heroic!
Quaint Island home
I adore my quaint Island home
Where the blue sea stretches for miles
On verdant hills I often roam
Strolling through lush meadows and stiles
City life does not attract me
I adore my quaint Island home
It’s a place I’d love you to see
On golden sands I can beach comb
Paddling in the waves and white foam
On a glorious summer’s day
I adore my quaint Island home
It is here I will always stay
I should write a poetry book,
perhaps I could write a thick tome
of poems about where I live -
I adore my quaint Island home!
Q Contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
My first attempt at this form
06-04-17
Alongside a Chiltern chalkstream
I lay me down to dream,
of country paths,stiles and steep slopes,
those days,long ago,filled with hope;
I dreamed of days of summer sun
when my life had just begun,
climbing trees,cricket on the green,
the first time I made the school team;
Football with coats and tennis ball,
bonfire night fireworks in the Fall,
carol singing through silent streets,
paper chains and Christmas treats.
Crystal clear,vision's backward gaze
brought forth from nostalgia's haze.
The sylvan landscape stretched for miles
reached across golden fields by stiles.
Leaves carpeted the ground like tiles
whilst branches lay in gathered woodpiles.
Ancient venerable trees lined the aisles
that wandered willy nilly like juveniles.
Along the river's banks were basking reptiles
with mouths that upturned in happy smiles.
In the midst of the rushing water were isles
that rose up high like big projectiles.
And trees marched up the hills in files
giving shelter to the fox and his wiles.
The peace of the woodlands beguiles
within its tranquillity there are no exiles.
(A Salute to Robert Frost)
A fence of hand-hewn rock spans miles
of wind-swept road through fields of grain.
Uneven edge of rock, worn smooth
by storm’s hard breath of gust and rain
withstands the force which seeks to bend
or break a monument of time.
It hugs the earth and thumbs its nose
at energy so misaligned.
It boldly stands today as yore,
protects both wheat and corn for miles
and welcomes only human form
to walk beyond its stalwart stiles.
But flush against its weathered brow
there leans a heavy-laden tree
with pungent scent and rose-red glow,
forgotten apples hanging free
for horse or deer or bovine teeth
to reach across unyielding stone
and quench a thirst or hunger keen
with only crunch to thus intone.
May some always so hang, unpicked,
may much escape our stated plan
a fruit or such forgot and left,
to nibble sweetness with no blame.
You were twenty and about to graduate college when you made a fatal mistake! Two days ago i lost you and was reminded of what i should appreciate. The memories that we share hold the most value in my possession! This insight i describe came from the lord i shared in my poem on poetry soup. It was called expression! My dad shared you called at age ten and gave your heart to the lord! You were taken to soon but now you have no pain and gain with christ your reward. You will never be forgot because you were in my past and present in my soul. I love you my dear cousin see you when my days grow to be old. We will meet again and share my first time in heaven as we did at disney universal. Sorry if this poem is abrupt. I wasn't planning a rehearsal. He was my cousin and died at age twenty two. RIP Tyler Stiles and my love always and my prayers too anyone who has lost someone. If your reading this i mean you!
The fine rain is falling
filling my nostrils will melancholy
remembering family days,
walking the country lanes,
the perfume of honeysuckle heavy in the air
besides the freshnesss of hay and mown grass
Looking across the valley
where Mamgu would be waving
a tea towel from the cottage door.
A signal to tell us lunch will be ready in half hour
quickening our footsteps we cross fields
climb stiles to be home on time.
This is holidaying in West Wales
Where purity still raises its head
Where a fine shower brings out the nuances of nature
to install in our memories
So that a rainy day brings us back
to happy carefree family times.
To nature, to the family, to memories.
The pitter patter of rain supplies all of these emotions.
*Mamgu - Grandmother
Penned on 10 November 2013 by Seren Roberts
Contest : Fragrance of Rain
My trampy old DC's, a wonderful shoe
They stayed on my foot since I bought them brand new
No matter how smelly, or sandy, or wet
They were the best 'man-shoe' a female could get
You wear them for walking, skateboarding and jogs
And someone once offered to swap for some clogs
I had to decline for I love my DC'S
They've been there for climbing up walls and oak trees
They're comfy for biking on extreme terrain
and protect your socks when you're stuck in the rain
Encasing my tootsies when I walked 10 miles
through fields and meadows, and over wood stiles
We've danced through the puddles and lost loves and gigs
Got covered in poo when I ambushed some pigs
They're better than slippers, I'd say flip-flops too
Respect for the DC's, my favourite shoe.
18th August 2011
Come take my hand & walk with me
an English country scene we'll see,
down green lanes and over stiles,
we'll walk, and walk, for miles;
Come take my side and stroll awhile,
in Spring meadows with clover lush,
primrose,buttercup and cowslip,
then through blubell woodlands,trip;
Take my arm,and with me ramble
over hill and downland we'll wander
the bridleway ,hedged with bramble,
to an inn for lunch.we'll amble.
Homely victuals,sure to please
conversing long,we'll take our ease.
Note.I organise a monthly walk along these lines for older folk from our church,this was the
inspration for my sonnet.
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