The Magic Tree

At top of hill near cliff and ridge
There is a magic tree
With portal in its ancient trunk
A cave of mystery
Where those who seek shall always find
Less sceptics may vanish
Enchanted by its lure; appeal
To share with all their wish

For deep within a Fairy Queen
Who’s said to wear the crown
Has court in session granting forth
All folk from out of town
Their dreams and hopes and deep desires
Their aspirations too
But will you go to the charmed tree
Ask that your wish come true

Or will you scoff and not believe
Rebuff this fairytale
Close off your mind to its magic
Not see what can prevail
When eyes open and hearts extend
To worlds that are for sure
Enchanted by this charmed dear tree
To offer so much more

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The Tailor’s Cat

I’ve heard it mentioned long ago
That once there was a cat
Who left for London, boots in tow
And flippy floppy hat
But on his journey south he stopped
In Cambridge by the Cam
And dosed off in the mid-day sun
On punt after a dram
Of whiskey in the afternoon
To dream under a spell
Of princesses and royalty
As well as wedding bells

He dreamt he was the master of
All glistening ceremonies
With folk from far and wide coming
To bow down on their knees
In adoration of the clothes
He sewed; the robes he spun
The glorious dresses he had made
For hearts and love in one
The swathes of cloth luxurious
The silk so fine and fair
For maidens on their wedding days
With radiance in the air

He dreamt of smiles and happy times
Of beauty so serene
Of wonder, charm, perfection in
The dresses that were seen
And when he woke he tallied out
To streets in Cambridge town
Where there he set a boutique up
To sew fabulous gowns
And from the day he’s dressed all those
Who’ve crossed his threshold mat
With grace and style and elegance
He is the Tailor’s Cat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NB:  This poem is not sponsored or endorsed by The Tailor’s Cat boutique in Cambridge which supplies beautiful wedding dresses.  The dress in the picture does not come from The Tailor’s Cat but is for illustration purposes only. 🙂

A River Tale

The river is a bustling place
A busy water course
A harbinger of tales of old
Of man and fettered horse
Who lived on banks in ancient barge
With paintwork gleaming bright
And livery from olden days
Canal and other sights

A tale that tells a story that
He took his barge downstream
Towards the ports so bustling
With boats that sailed on steam
Where markets burst with worldly goods
From places near and far
Where work was given to the few
In dockland and in bar

And so the river man arrived
With fettered horse on lead
To haul the cargo from the ships
With help from trusty steed
To make a small yet good living
From work that he procured
With horse to help him lift and lug
As gold they then secured

And so he worked from dawn to dusk
Without a break it’s told
On docks during the summer days
To clear each cargo hold
Until at last he had amassed
Sufficient to go back
To home right on his river bank
With gold in his knapsack

A day and night and maybe more
He went right back upstream
With horse on towpath steadily
As man and beast in team
Back to the bank he longed to see
The place he loved the best
To settle down with feet aloof
To take a well-earned rest

But sadly that was not to be
For in the midnight air
Three robbers hung in a tunnel
Like wolves inside their lair
And in the light of misted moon
They jumped the man and horse
To steal his hard earned wages
And attack him on his course

They beat him hard and shot his horse
And left him as for dead
And took his barge, his bag of gold
His all; his daily bread
And in the darkness of the night
These villains fled from sight
To leave the river man to die
On bank; no future bright

And so the tale goes onto say
That there in tunnel’s mouth
Down on the river, by the bank
A little to the south
The ghost of river man now dwells
With horse stood on the tow
A sharp reminder to the rest
Beware just where you go!

English: Blisworth Tunnel, North Entrance from inside tunnel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)