Explore the well-worn tracks leading to the mines
The stone-arched gateways to the shafts
The ruined smelt mills and the tips,
Remnants from a bygone time

Say a little thank you to the men who built and trod these paths
For their lives were often short and their work was hard
Imagine you can hear them sing as they wind on through the hills
And hear their clogs against the stones echo down the gylls

Look down, now the only sound the water as it rushes
Look up to the heather moor and the hillside hushes

Mini squadrons of cackling grouse fly off everywhere
Where once the lead was teased from underground
Now it's fired into the air

Look for perfection
Mother nature will show you
There in a nutshell

Fed up with you now
Silly old cow
Stuck it this long
No idea how
All the photos, in the bin
In every one you're ugly as sin
That voice all the time
A shrieking whine
Annoy someone else
You're no longer mine
I'm perfectly sure I won't miss you a bit
You ghastly wizened  gnarly old ***
With your drab grubby clothes
And concordian nose
Your pointy hat and stinky old cat
As if there could ever be another
I do believe you've become your mother
With your stupid concoctions and ridiculous spells
You really should be thrown down the well
Can't wait till you're gone, along with your pong
Your shriveled-up bits and ridiculous stick
You really are a hopeless old fool
You belong on a ducking stool
So before you incur any more of my wrath
Bugg off, good riddance you scabby old goth

Once I lov'd a bonie lass,
Ay, and I love her still;
And whilst that virtue warms my breast,
I'll love my handsome Nell.

As bonie lasses I hae seen,
And mony full as braw;
But, for a modest gracefu' mein,
The like I never saw.

A bonie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the e'e;
But, without some better qualities,
She's no a lass for me.

But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet,
And what is best of a',
Her reputation is complete,
And fair without a flaw.

She dresses aye sae clean and neat,
Both decent and genteel;
And then there's something in her gait
Gars ony dress look weel.

A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
That polishes the dart.

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul;
For absolutely in my breast
She reigns without control.

His expertise was knots
His profession to garrotte
If his wife should say
"Did you have a good day?"
The conversation stopped

Oh that contented soul to be
Who finds in all things harmony
Who weaves their cloth on nature's loom
And sees no cause to worry

Who shines with aura ever bright
Like lustrous moon on misty night
A smile to brighten any room
With charismatic light

Skillfully to seize the day
And cast all lowly thoughts away
So mind and body stay in tune
And happiness holds sway

We're all in a bit of a pickle
All in a bit of a jam
We'd like our cake and eat it too
If we possibly can

We'd like to take the biscuit
The icing on the cake
But for now it's hard cheddar
We'll just have to wait

Harry Patch, Harry Patch
Last man standing
Who saw so many, many fall
Beyond our understanding

Your body is weak, and your time must come soon
But your will is strong and your spirit shines through

You've lived so long, now you must be strong
And tell those tales of fear and regret
The ones you tried so hard to forget

Bounty snatched and safely stashed
         Bare the yielded land
Fringed wilderness displays her wares
   Palms open outstretched hand

      Tawny millpond stubble seas
         are lifted wave by wave
  Mechanically exposed, tossed over
     Broken, pummeled flat again

     Cool the calm September days
     Winter clothes as yet we shun
Creeping through our summer weave
Dead men's fingers tell of what's to come

sap rising, buds swell
pink flush showing on may bush
blossom confetti

they don't read poems
poor souls, scratching and headless
don't write them either


country lane bike ride
T-shirt flapping like a jib
three sheets to the wind

don't pluck my heart strings
they only play sad music
      anyway it hurts

When searching for your heart of gold
Be warned that many counterfeits are sold
The gilded one may brightly shine
But flakes and fades given time
The one you're really looking for
Is made of carat 24

If there were a heaven
I would want it to be
Like the lunchtime walk we did today,
Little Bear and me

We took the bridleway as signed
Through a cottage garden
Someone had a mower going, the first cut of the year
We slipped through unnoticed,
Me and little Bear

The path went by a natural brook
Below a sloping meadow
And led up to an ancient wood
Beside a well-clipped hedgerow

At the wood we paused
It looked inviting, dark and deep
But for now its secrets it would keep
There was work to do,
A heap of straw to sort and lay
So that adventure we will save
For another day

That adventure we can save
For another day

I do not cling to life
That hat is worn out now
I've seen this world
Felt its pain
And now the earth,
It claims me back again

It's time to lose all time
To leave it all
Leave you all behind

I will be greeted at the gate
A mother, father, brother, sister, wife
All await me there

I leave you all with wishes kind
Stories of war, peace and adventures maritime
And memories
But most of all
With love

-                    Rusting hulk                             -
Monolithic reminder of gargantuan struggle
-               Tombstone of war                          -

The eyes of the world are upon
The crowded streets of Hong Kong
They want a free
Democracy
And are out to right a wrong

I've read more poems on this site
Than I've ever read before
Does that leave me satisfied?
No, I just want more

As soon as I get home from work
I pop the pooter on
To see what's new and popular
And what my friends have done

What wise words from Frank today?
How is dearest v?
Bernie's busy, Edward maybe
John and g,  lp

All human life is here
For all of us to see
At the risk of sounding trite or twee
I do enjoy your company

five skims of a stone
    toss a pebble down the well
          ripples and echoes

( To the tune of Jailhouse Rock )

Party night came to the hp site
Singing and dancing till late at night
Friends dropping by said count us in
Man you shoulda seen them poets swing
     Let's rock
     Everybody let's rock
     They all got together in a flock
     Rockin at the hp hop
Well I didn't know you played the saxophone
Frank Zappa Davis on the slide trombone
Along came Embers with a whole brass band
Man that thing was getting out of hand
       Let's rock
       Everybody let's rock
       We were rockin and we couldn't stop
        Boppin at the hp hop
Music getting louder as the night wore on
Hands clap feet tap sing that song
Grab hold o' somethin just to play a tune
If you don't play the piano play the wooden spoon
          Let's rock
          Everybody let's rock
          We were givin it all we'd got
          Boppin at the hp hop
Someone made a speech, said we're all friends here
We all shed a happy little single tear
Then she said oh for goodness sakes
I love everybody in the whole **** place
            Let's rock
            Everybody let's rock
            Keep it up y'all don't stop
            Boppin at the hp hop

As I did read your pretty words
My pulse it started rushing
I drank them in, slaked my thirst
My own they started gushing

Two like minds each other meet
We got on mighty fine
It made my pooter overheat
I had to make you mine

I got down on bended knee
You said yes my love I'm ready
Let's get married, I agree
With haste and alphabet confetti
                                                        ­      l
And so to the appointed time                 o      v
We gently sighed at every line                             e
The ceremony was divine                                      
Our happiest day online                                           m  
                                                                ­                         e
Now all we need is you and me
No wish to read the rest                               d
Hit me with that punch-line babe                        o
You know you're the best

Smoke lifts slowly from the stack
sideways drifting now

Leaves begin to gently quiver
weather vane swings round

Flags begin to faintly flutter
boughs and branches move around

Umbrellas flipping inside out
wires howling now

People shout above the din
avoid the rolling over bin

Walkers leaning clutching coats
trees blocking roads

Autogiro flying tiles
fences lean and sway

People hurry on their way
to shelter from the hurricane

I am a poem
And I have feelings
I need to be respected
So read me to the end
Please
Or I'll feel
Neglected

I'd love to play the piano really, really well
Or strum away on guitar
And sound like Ralf McTell
But I don't have the talent
And I don't really have the time
So I'll just sit here like I do
Making up a rhyme.

When I first saw your face I knew
It was a face I could look at for a very long time

When I first heard your voice I knew
It was a voice I would never tire of

And when I held your hand I knew
It was a hand I could hold
And never let go

A Massey Fergie tractor
An old VW beetle
A worn out pair of boots
Manuela the 3 legged dog, and Senora
In their humble tumble home

The small concession to modern life
Just a mobile phone

Nothing special here
No status or wealth is evident
I love you Senor Mujica!
You do not change your way of life
Just because you're President

I'm fifty feet old
Two tons tall
Fit as a cranberry
Ripe as a waterfall
Size July cheeks
Marbles for feet
Gallons of tulips
Dance when I eat
Candlelight ****
And promises art
Crush the whispering hesitant part
Of a borrowed porcelein heart
And yes it was something you said
So out of my bed
Mind your head

I say hello, and how are you
She says the weather's warm

I say I like your hair that way
She says approaching storm

I speak to her, she speaks to me
In our special way

I expect you see her too
Even down your way

She half turns and strokes the sky
I give a little sigh

Shows off her huggy little curves
I'm thinking  my oh my

She waves her hand across the map
Talking high and low

Where she goes to afterwards
I don't really know

I think I'm in love with the weather girl
I see her every day

And that for now is really all
I have left to say

In a country churchyard
Near the shade of a yew
That's where I'll be resting
And you’ll be there too

We'll be long past caring
Or fussing over things
We'll be admiring angels
And their gorgeous wings

Just reach out your hand to me
And I will reach out mine
As in life, together again
Forever and all time

On the side of the country lane a wooden post holds a sign indicating the route of a public footpath. Hardly a mile goes by without passing another one, maybe more. They don't stand out, so common they hardly register as we motor by. Some of us have explored where they lead, others have not.

Some follow hedgerows, ditches; others strike across open fields. Wherever they are, the landowner has a legal obligation to allow free unhindered public access. Growing crops must be cut or sprayed to keep paths clear.

Many of these paths were formed by country folk walking to church, work or market, taking the shortest route across the fields. In 1948 they were recognised and given legal status on the definitive map.

Close to villages the paths are well used. In more remote areas some are barely walked from one year to the next. Even so, they are still legal rights of way.

The celebrated fell wanderer Alfred Wainwright put together his famous Coast to Coast walk by connecting existing rights of way to form a continuous route from the Atlantic to the North Sea, passing through three National Parks.

Almost a kind of accident of history, the footpath network is now a National Treasure.

I passed a milestone on the way
Exactly when, I cannot say
Maybe where the grass grew long,
Or when the wind blew extra strong
I passed it though, of that I'm sure
That one's gone, but there will be more

many
many  more

Sunday 10th May
Sunny currently
The high will be 19 degrees
Mostly clear tonight with a low of 11 degrees
Calendar
No events

Chestnuts roasting by an open fire
Stories gather round to tell
I almost sat too close to it
And roasted mine as well

Away in a manger
No crib for a bed
All the nice hay
Smells of ***** instead

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the yuletide gay
But if Santa's eyeing up your chimney
Send him on his way

I'm dreaming of a quiet Christmas
With every panic out of sight
May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be just right

.                  Bad news from doctor                 .
             won't make old bones after all
.                   All goes too quickly                    .

Jay                                                                      Horatio

By the door in the flower ***                            The man who planted all these trees
Among the beans in the veggie plot                Alas I knew him well
In the lawn, everywhere -little oak trees-         He did not see them to maturity
Do you know who puts them there?                How long our years we cannot tell

I've only ever seen it once                                  Now strong and spreading to their prime
He does it when you're not around                  They seem to thank him for their chance of life
He does it taking lots of care                             In gratitude they sway and soar
He puts an acorn in the ground                        And breathe for him as he can breathe no more

He thinks he's coming back to it                      We thank the Jay for acorns
When he feels the need                                      Unwittingly he sows
But mostly he forgets                                         And plant like him we must
So germinates the seed                                       Although like him we may not see them fully grow

                                       As I look up at this fresh green canopy
                                             I think of all the tiny saplings
                                                   And of what will be

Jellyfish in the dock
Quietly guarding his spot
An intruder drifts by
With a challenging eye
So he gives him all that he's got

The quarrel to settle
He showed him his mettle
Caressed him all over
With arms like a nettle

The stranger acts tough
Calling his bluff
Hanging around in a bit of a huff

He drifted off, he'd shown him what's what
There was no doubt who was king of the dock-
It was one of his better exchanges

But he thought how strange for a fish,
To have tattooed on his chest
Good food costs less at Sainsburys

As a sideline my old boss used to deliver firewood.
One regular's dog always bit his heels as he carried
the heavy sacks down the path. Complaints to the
owner fell on deaf ears so one day he  ''accidentally''
dropped a sack on it.

After that it dived under the sofa every time there was a
delivery and the customer never worked out what happened.

Johnny hates the open air
He doesn't like the rain
Johnny's in his bedroom
On the ‘net again

They tried him with a lego set
That went in the bin
Johnny's collecting passwords
Credit cards and pins

For a lad of only twelve
He's doing rather well
He hacked into the Pentagon
And crashed the shares in Shell

The FBI got on his trail
For causing such a fuss
They wondered should we send the boy to jail
Or make him work for us

They say the grass is greener
On the other side
She left the one who loves her
To give some guy a ride

Mike oh Mike you're just too nice
J something in your brain you lack
She left him once, twice, thrice
Three times he took her back

Seems you're never happy
By now you should have learnt
It's not the answer flying to another flame
To get your fingers burnt

I hope some day you'll settle
Find happiness for good
In a lasting treasure
I really wish you would

.
      weather disappoints
union flag drips rain drops
       spirits undaunted


           continuity
sixty years not a foot wrong
  wave your flag for her

Tap tap tap and ye shall find.
I sieved and panned for nuggets that shine,
Searching for those elusive lines
That transgress space and transgress time
Or soothe and calm like favourite wine
Or send a shiver down the spine

I chanced upon a wealthy seam
I tapped and from it gushed and teemed

A geyser of emotion
A tide of wisdom
A planet of experience

Hello Poetry, how do you do?
I'm very pleased to meet with you.

We're ladies who lunch, we have a good time
We appreciate art, we sip fine wine
Watching our weight so no more than a nibble
But believe you me - we're fond of a giggle :)

We're ladies who lunch, we thrive on variety
We run the local history society
We move some chairs around in the hall
And invite a nice man to talk to us all

We're ladies who lunch, we support one another
Devouring books from cover to cover
We always discuss the topics we've read
Our husbands are hard at work or dead

We're ladies who lunch, we're busy but free
No one does luncheon better than we
Society's backbone, we stick together
And fully intend to go on for ever

A voice called me in from the garden
Coffee served for two
A voice called me in from the garden
I wished that voice could be you

A hand reached out in the darkness
To comfort and reassure
A hand reached out in the darkness
I wished that hand could be yours

In my dream you came to me
Your beautiful face I saw
You bade me rise to join you
And held me close as we danced round the floor

I felt your breath so warm on my cheek
As you whispered soft and sure
Live now for the living
Long for me no more

we let go
we surrender
we make no sound
just a gentle whisper
as we fall down to the ground

winter's coming
our job is done
another passing summer glory
now our work is in the under storey

we keep our date
with bugs and microbes
and all the little litter critters
feed them in their life of toil
helping to enrich our deep dark nubile soil

when the weather warms
season's storms have passed
our winter's work will bear good fruit
as leaves come out again at last

Good job we never know
it's said

About the times
that lay ahead

Can we trust
what we feel

Do we know
this is real

Can it be
for the best

Do we care
about the rest

Think as you
thinking fast

Time will tell
will it last

Do we follow
head or heart

Can we bear
now to part

Are we selfish
are we blind

Would we be foolish now this far
to leave it all

Leave it all
behind

Qu' est-ce que c'est, ce bruit                                                                        
Que j'ecoute au millieu de la nuit?                                                        
Ce n'est pas grand, c'est tout petit                                                          
Mais c'est la, dans le jardin                                                                      
Quand je suis sur mon lit                                                                        

Le matin nous levons une grande pierre                                                
Et la, assis sur son derriere
C'est un crapaud, un petit crapaud
C'est lui, la source de notre mystere

Desormais je dormirai content sur mon lit
Je vais dire au crapaut
"Chantes pour nous,
                                    bonne nuit, bonne nuit."

Come on Leonard, be a sport
Admit that you write poetry
Your stuff is better by a thousand times
Than anything that I could write
So if you are not a poet sir
Where does that leave me?