We’re going on our holidays
We’re heading out down south
To lands where ponies graze at will
Quite near to Beaulieu’s mouth
To wander in the forest
Meander near a stream
To walk amongst a jewel in crown
To live and breathe the dream
Where heath rolls out before the eye
And coppice rolls into
A forest that dates back through years
And really’s far from “New”
And for a few days wrapped in peace
We’ll take a little while
To enjoy such magnificence
And beauty with a smile
Chimneys smoking across the steel city
Where industrial ghosts of the past
Spiral heavenwards
In plumes from the remnant furnaces
Lingering in the ether
Smelting past memories
Smarting the landscape
Haunting the skyline
In whispers; in echoes of a bygone era
I think I’ll visit Hull
Why? I really do not know
A place across The Humber bridge
And somewhere just to go
For a day out to wander
And see what I can see
Up in the north on Yorkshire’s soil
Across from old Grimsby
For someone’s got to go there
And so I have been told
That there’s a cultural paradise
Awaiting to unfold
Before the eyes they reckon
Surprises all in store
With tales of cream phone boxes
And docks by the seashore
So Hull – you are my destiny
Well for one day at least
A little trip to pasture’s new
And hopefully a feast
Of unexpected pleasantries
To leave me feeling blessed
A reward for taking the time
To fly there from my nest
The Humber Bridge ©BenDJ Photography 2013 Used with thanks
Ancient wood down on the beach
Once out of sight and out of reach
Has been uncovered by the sea
Revealing long lost history
As forest from those years gone by
Show roots that point up to the sky
Whilst outstretched sands ahead of Brea
Are rendered gone and washed away
In bay’s great battle with the squall
That’s stripped her spirit, soul and all!
To leave rock pools which have appeared
Filled now with Daymer’s spilt salt tears
Cinque port where three lone rivers
At a confluence converge
Where ocean once lapped at her walls
Yet now is a distant surge
Where tunnels ferry back and forth
Beneath senescent streets
Tween Mermaid Inn and The Old Bell
Where smugglers once did meet
Where once the lost embayment
Served the King and this country
With harbour docking merchant boats
Back in antiquity
And now where history lingers for
All those who come on by
This celebrated ancient port
That goes by the name of Rye
Vestibule of Lincoln’s crown
Set high upon the hill
Still reaching out cross the shire
In awe and wonder still
Set out against the clear blue sky
The Minster’s mission proud
To welcome, greet with open heart
To beckon all aloud
And through the years it’s stood transfixed
In garb of mighty stone
A church, icon, community
Alive and not alone
Lincoln Cathedral from the west, showing all three main towers (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There’s a sign in Market Rasen
That’s causing quite a stir
But no-one seems to know what’s wrong
So maybe we’ll concur
And guess what is the issue
Red tape, bureaucracy
Just cos they offer parking that
Is saying it’s for free
I mean goodness gracious – what a thought
A sign that just declares
That you can shop or gad about
And park with lesser cares
A town that wants to advertise
That they want you to come
And yet those in charge of road signs are
Now vexed but also dumb!
So come on Mr Council Man
Step up and tell up why
This sign is such a problem to
All those who might pass by
And then by F-O-I declare
You ever made the fuss
And shopped the sign into you chaps
Come on now! Let’s discuss!
Such beauty stretches fore my eyes
Such grace under my feet
Magnificence that awe inspires
As mountain and lake meet
Such wonder held in vista there
The panoramic view
Yonder the landscape bathed in folds
Where scree falls into blue
Three peaks ahead the lake
Topped in cumulus puff
Where shadows of an age past linger
Carved in rock by gargantuan ice hand
As hanging valley falls
Into the aqueous ribbon
Which ripples in the eddies of time
Ginz&Tonic 
Written
on June 26, 2014