Just a kind word...

I must remember just how uplifting a kind word can be. It doesn't take much to give someone a boost - thank you, well done, good luck, take care, I've missed you. Better still if you mean it!

Butterflies

The weather during the last few days has been very mild for late November - reaching around 13 or 14C. We have roses, poppies and fuchsia still in flower. There are even newly ripe raspberries. Yesterday I saw three large butterflies flitting around the fuchsia buds. Later, just before dusk, my wife and I went for a walk in Salcey Forest where they have constructed a high level walkway with viewing platforms above the forest canopy. It was peaceful and serene - we were the only ones there. The sky was clear and bright, which meant we could see for miles over the tree-tops. By the car park there's a wooden lodge restaurant where we sat and had tea and delicious oat biscuits - ah for the simple things...

And guess what? - yes, the grass needs cutting again!

A November morning

It's a bright November morning in Northampton. The sun lies low in a pale blue sky. The wind gently rustles through trees now gold, red and brown - their leaves at last beginning to drop.

Each season has its delights. Nature's rebirth in spring. The hedonistic luxuriance of summer. Crisp and blustery autumn. Grey and frosty winter days.

Whether sun on my back, rain on my face, wind through my hair or snow on my shoulders - it's good to be alive!

But, damn it! The grass needs cutting again...

The Place

This was another class exercise where we were asked to write a poem in a traditional sonnet style.

The Place

The bluebell path I walked without a care
One time I stopped, entranced by sight and sound
My heart was filled with joy, I could but stare
Where else on earth could such delight be found?
The heady scent did feed my senses more
The blackbird’s song did echo in my soul
I knelt upon the leaf-strewn forest floor
and wept to know this place had made me whole
In later years when life would sometime weigh
most heavily upon my drooping head
The sight and sound and scent of that one day
would bring me back from dark despair and dread
And I would be once more within that place
And feel the breath of life upon my face.

Eighteen Thirty One

This was a class exercise where I had to pick a time and place in the past and create a brief narrative verse.

The year, eighteen-thirty-one, was chosen to represent a time of great social change, when the rapidly expanding industrial centres in Britain were sucking people in from the country. This was, for many, an economic necessity as it had become more difficult to make a living from the land.


The sun no longer heralds the rising hour
The ever-darkness smog-grim covers all
Its acrid stench pervades my very soul
and chimney stacks replace the graceful trees
My wife’s fair cheeks have turned a pallid pale
the children cough and cry when once they laughed
Each day I ask what drove me to this place?

The fields no longer gave what once we had
a life abundant, full and free from care
The taxing rent that filled the landlord’s purse
did take our hope – did leave our table bare
A time has passed away – an era gone
What will befall us now? I cannot tell
What worth our faith in God? Where does he dwell?
Our rural life of heaven has turned to city hell.