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Posts tagged ‘England’

Trebetherick

Where thrift and gorse grow ever sure
And slate cliff tumbles to the shore
Where Brea Hill rises from the bay
And Enodoc stays tucked away
Behind the dunes where Links expand
Ahead sea laps on soft pure sand
Whilst Daymer Lane seeks out the beach
And Greenaway’s within stone’s reach
Trebetherick, a hidden gem
Set there in Cornwall’s diadem

The Sea Spirit

 

The Cornish Piskies

Watch out! Watch out! Watch wear you tread
For down on Daymer Lane
A clan of Piskies stand in wait
As bidden by their Thane
To create havoc playfully
Deter you from your way
And whisk you off to Bodmin Moor
Or to the hilltop Brea

All dressed in colours of the earth
In lichen, grass and moss
Their cheerfulness and spritely mood
Will trick your mind and cross
Your path without a second thought
In fairy dust confused
To leave you, traveller, wandering
All lost and not bemused

And yet these souls of children lost
Wish each and everyone
No trouble nor no wanton harm
Just mischief and some fun
And some they’ll even help and aid
Their succour to impart
To the infirm and elderly
They show their loving heart

So be aware and be so wise
For Piskies small and bright
As Cornish fairies or brownies
Resembling the sprites
Dance in the waysides, midst the gorse
Down by the lapping shore
Intent on their shenanigans
Their high jinks and much more

 

Grantham

Grantham bestride the Witham sits
Where town embraces shire
And church steeple arises high
From Wulfram’s Church not to deny
Such history to aspire

Within the ancient wapentake
Of Winnibriggs and Threw
Her heritage shines out so bright
Her legacy and pride in sight
From Hills and Hollows view

Whence from the peregrine’s eyrie
That nests in the bell tower
Her soul outspread for all to see
That stretches out across country
Her bequest to endower

For here the feet of honoured peers
Attest her hidden zeal
To incubate great destiny
Inspire each one prodigiously
Her fervent heart reveal

English: Grantham town centre as seen from the...

English: Grantham town centre as seen from the top of the hills and hollows with St. Wulfram’s Church as the focal point. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Grantham is a market town in Lincolnshire, UK.  Birthplace of the UK’s first woman Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, home to Isaac Newton’s old school, The King School and renowned for being the first town to have female police officers in 1914.  The Mallard steam train broke the speed record just south of the town in 1938.  Grantham can also be thanked for producing the first running diesel engine in 1892 and the UK’s first tractor in 1896.  This poem therefore pays homage to a small town that has in its own right made a huge contribution to the world at large.

And A Partridge In A Pear Tree: Part II Two Turtle Doves

They landed in the garden in
A duo as a pair
Two doves cuddled on a love swing
A love swing swinging there!

They coo in perfect harmony
They cuddle up above
They’re staring in each other’s eyes
Content in perfect love

Content in their own company
Two doves to think as one
Just swinging on the love seat in
The garden just for fun

But what about the Partridge sat
Up in the same old tree
With frozen feet and threat of pie
Sat there obstinately

What makes these two small love birds sit
And coo to wake him so
For the tree is getting crowded
Why can’t they up and go

“Go off to tree tops different
To coo all you may like”
Says disgruntled frozen partridge
“Go scram – get out my sight”

“For this is really my old tree
I simply hate to share
So shoo” he says to turtle doves
“Fly hence – Get out my hair!”

This is a continuum of our Christmas take on the Twelve Days Of Christmas in 12 parts.  To see the whole poem build day by day please visit the link above or click here to the 12 days of Christmas.

The Chamber Choir

Transfixed by the choir
That transverse the ether
In harmonious accord
With pure unblemished resonance
Echoing in the heavens
Proclaiming melodious acclamations
With euphoric edification
In glorious vocal congruence
Uplifting hallowed souls
With awe and wonder
In responses of festive sanctity
Oh Magnum Mysterium
Alleluia!

Written whilst listening to the beautiful St Wulfram’s Chamber Choir singing Oh Magnum Mysterium in the glorious church that lies at the heart of Grantham, Lincolnshire.  Currently there is an appeal to save the church spire that has stood watch over Grantham and her people for the last 700 years.  If you would like to help save this national landmark please visit https://mydonate.bt.com/charities/stwulframsspireappeal# or read to read more visit http://www.savegranthamsspire.org.uk/public/index.php

BBC Radio Lincolnshire Interview

Recently Ginz from Ginz&Tonic was interviewed by BBC Radio Lincolnshire.  If you’d like to hear the interview then please click on the link below to find out a little more from behind the scenes of Ginz&Tonic, more about Postural Tachycardia Syndrome (PoTS) and a dip into her biography.

NB:  Soundbites courtesy of BBC Radio Lincolnshire with many thanks

 

Litter

If you simply must drop your litter
Walking down the street
Just think about the impact
It will have upon our feet
For in particular if it’s sticky
Say goo or chewing gum
You might just get a little stuck
Or end up on your ……
And please don’t drop bananas
That can cause a slip and fall
For combined with all those fag ends
They’re the worst culprits above all!

 

The Number 7 Bus

“All aboard please” he rang the bell
Stood right by the open door
The bus conductor with flat cap
“Fares please” he called and more
And off the Number 7 went
To trundle on its way
From Maidstone to Old Tunbridge Wells
The usual route per se

Through villages and towns it sped
In green livery so bright
Stopping en route to pick up fares
Whilst others would alight
But in the air was something odd
A sense of somewhat more
A premonition some would say
Of something else in store

And then it happened in a flash
Without warning or to do
In an instant, right from the road
It vanished in the blue
For as the bus hit the spa town
It simply disappeared
One moment still on the highway
The next the road was cleared!

But where the green bus had gone to
Remains a mystery today
A tale beset in legend as
No travellers went astray
For each arrived where they were bound
Though none could really tell
What happened once they’d got aboard
The bus that rang the bell

 

By way of note this bears no resemblance to the actual number 7 bus service that runs between Maidstone and Tunbridge Wells and is purely a ramble into fiction possibly taking something from days of old from memories of the old school bus service that used to take us to school.  If only those journeys had been so exciting!!! 🙂

Pinch Punch, First Day of the Month

There’s a custom in England
From the witches of old
When salt would be flicked
To stop them being so bold
And a punch would ensue
With a hefty big kick
To ensure that the witch
Would be gone pretty quick

And now first thing on awaking
On the first of each month
We turn to our dearest
To give a gentle “pinch punch”
Then we add “no returns”
To avoid a flick in the eye
Which can be the response
For those being so sly!

 

Blackheath

Upon the heath by Greenwich Park
Where time extends into the blue
And common land reaches out
A grassland mass in London’s hue

A site of long-gone industry
Where gravel spoils were seized
Reclaimed by nature’s healing balm
Gorse blossom caught upon the breeze

Where Romans once transversed the heath
Wat Tyler’s band met to protest
Where highway men have purged the rich
And black death’s victims laid to rest

And calling sinners from afar
Kent’s needle sits on church beneath
Arising from this open space
Amidst the wonders of Blackheath