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Claire Heslop Poem
For every time we take a breath
And every time we stop to rest,
To look around at all that grows
Embracing all the love that flows.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every tear of sorrow we weep
The new day of thousands in forgotten sleep,
Unhinged the heart of one more soul
For King or Queen or eternal goal.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
The last of the tommys lays his wreath
For next time he may lye beneath,
Reunited with friends separated long ago
To re-live the highest high and the lowest low.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every rose
For every thorn
For every darkness
Unveils a new morn
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2005
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Claire Heslop Poem
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Once a year ower the Cumberland show,
Livestock, ter an' fro, ter an' fro.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Gypsies, jockeys, towns’ folk alike,
Appleby 'orse-fair awwer the dyke.
Red, Green, Yellow
Scotland has i's 'aggis, Lancashire i's ho' pot,
We 'ave uz sausage an' tha' does uz lo'.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Ice-cream a' Allonby shiftin' ter Silloth on sea,
Righ' round Wes' Cumbria an' back yam fur scordy, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Up a' five an' ou' a' dawn,
The 'aaf-ne' fishers, early morn, like eh.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Keswick, Caldbeck an' Seascale too,
All the visitors passin' through.
Red, Green, Yellow
There’s Por' Carlisle on the warl,
People comin' yan an' all.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2006
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Claire Heslop Poem
The beating of a single drummer boy,
Banging out his tunes,
Leading forth our heroes,
Our homegrown nations faithful platoons.
British men daring to take the front line,
Onwards and upwards,
Cry out the voices,
Trackers frontward lead, seeking out the mine.
The enemy advance, to take control,
Laden with weapons,
Coming to influence,
Riding Britannia of her soul.
For king and country, man, woman and child,
Trench life over powering,
The time of death looming,
Forever darkness the chance of hope is mild.
The last round of deadly fire is sent forth,
No more pain or fighting,
The war has come to cease,
Sending joyful messages of victories, north.
Normandy, the final resting place,
Of those brought down in battle,
Forlorn widows, crying,
Poppies mark the end of a dying race.
The beating of a single drummer boy,
Banging out his tunes,
Leading home our heroes,
Our homegrown nations faithful platoons.
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2006
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Claire Heslop Poem
Remember me when I am gone,
Far from anywhere,
Yet not near to nothing,
A place of hell on earth.
Remember me when I am gone,
When the earth forgets,
When I am but a picture,
Only you shall remember me.
Remember me when I am gone,
Yet do not dwindle in my past,
Or blame yourself,
For it is I who hast passed on.
Remember me when I am gone,
For I am always with you,
For every time the wind blows,
You shall remember me.
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2006
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Claire Heslop Poem
There is no heart in war,
All fear overcome,
It has no Law,
Till the battles won.
Lakes of innocent blood,
Drown men of life,
Land pitted mud,
His last thoughts of his wife.
But not a word is said,
Round by round,
Bitter bullets of lead,
Take cover behind the mound.
There is no heart in war,
All fear overcome,
It has no Law,
Till the battles won.
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2006
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Claire Heslop Poem
In the lowly soil,
Between the weeds,
A lone bud pokes its shy head to lead,
Its ever struggling journey of toil.
A single breath to take,
A hand to pull you from a fall,
Your first kick of a championship ball,
A penetrating dive into a fresh water lake.
All part of an ever-growing life,
What ever you be,
Whether it be human or tree,
Through pleasure and strife.
As time takes its toll and welcomes in death,
The once lonely bud,
Comes crashing to earth with a deafening thud,
And so takes his last breath.
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2006
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