Rhymes off the cuff
From a Painting by Colin Perry
A Walk in Snowdonia
Think where would you like to be
On a chilly Winters day
Walking boots on and nice warm clothes
Out rambling far away
In the hills and valleys of Wales perhaps
Or Cymru as the locals will say
As they proudly wave the flag with Y Ddraig Goch
In a very friendly way
Walking firmly forward now
With mountains on both sides
Just a glimpse of pale green
From the grass where it hides
‘neath a thin carpet of snow
Covering high and low ground
With a glimpse of some foliage
A lone tree they surround
As we passed an old cottage
With a thatch upon the roof
A truly Rural mountain scene
Of which there is much proof
An area of the valleys
Which Mother Nature controls
Free from today’s technology
Apart from the line of Telegraph poles
The water seems cold now
So it’s best to stay far away
On a walk in Snowdonia
or
Taith gerdded yn Eryri as a Welsh person might say
Dennis Shrubshall 10th January 2019
.jpg)
A Walk in Snowdonia
Think where would you like to be
On a chilly Winters day
Walking boots on and nice warm clothes
Out rambling far away
In the hills and valleys of Wales perhaps
Or Cymru as the locals will say
As they proudly wave the flag with Y Ddraig Goch
In a very friendly way
Walking firmly forward now
With mountains on both sides
Just a glimpse of pale green
From the grass where it hides
‘neath a thin carpet of snow
Covering high and low ground
With a glimpse of some foliage
A lone tree they surround
As we passed an old cottage
With a thatch upon the roof
A truly Rural mountain scene
Of which there is much proof
An area of the valleys
Which Mother Nature controls
Free from today’s technology
Apart from the line of Telegraph poles
The water seems cold now
So it’s best to stay far away
On a walk in Snowdonia
or
Taith gerdded yn Eryri as a Welsh person might say
Dennis Shrubshall 10th January 2019
Originally Posted by Poet –
Thanks again Shrubby, love it as I always do.
The Old Truck
I sit and think as an Artist
Pondering a new commission I may take
Will it be like so many others
Or will it be a complete break
Away from the everyday subjects
Rural scenes, rivers or lakes
Maybe a pier on a deserted shore
Any theme my wild fancy takes
Sketches I’ve made by the dozen
Depicting scenes urban and Rural
But my present thoughts are now on my easel
My working sketch of a sizeable Mural
Set in Australia so many years ago
In the time of my father maybe
And although I spend my life creating images
A rural farming man was he
The scene that I set in those times long ago
When Stations were very often remote
Working conditions were far from acceptable
Living conditions were very basic you could note
Roads were merely tracks across the bush or the ranges
Giving access from the fields to the barns
Where the harvest was stored in the sacks piled high
Until the market price was right according to yarns
I’ve heard told my some old timers
Relating how things were in the past
Agriculture on the open ranges
In areas Oh! so vast
Now it’s time to start my new creation
The boards are fitted and secured
Ready for my brushes and paints
My deepest attention is assured
For every stroke or swathe with a brush
Is very special to me
To achieve a pictorial record of the past
For today’s visitors and posterity
I’m floating a beige for background below
With greyish blue for the sky
Adding the sheds in the distance
And a hint of wire fence to one side
Then bring in the barns behind the Truck
Maybe where the drivers hide
Away from the heat of the midday sun
Ready to haul their heavy load of grain
Waiting perhaps for the price to rise
Or maybe in a hurry to beat the rain
And there in the foreground the vintage truck
Teams of horses now obsolete
Machines that do the work more quickly
Driver and mate in a more comfortable seat
Perspective is all important
The faded gold on the Driver’s cab
Everything has to give the appearance of age
The old vehicle has to look a trifle drab
Now I’ll float a little relief on ground of the yard
Just a few blades of grass are seen
But only alongside the fence
An even that is not green
For me it has been like a walk in the past
Hoping every detail I’ve depicted just right
Creating an image of life as it was
And then my Mural will be on sight.
Dennis Shrubshall 12th August 2013
.jpg)
I sit and think as an Artist
Pondering a new commission I may take
Will it be like so many others
Or will it be a complete break
Away from the everyday subjects
Rural scenes, rivers or lakes
Maybe a pier on a deserted shore
Any theme my wild fancy takes
Sketches I’ve made by the dozen
Depicting scenes urban and Rural
But my present thoughts are now on my easel
My working sketch of a sizeable Mural
Set in Australia so many years ago
In the time of my father maybe
And although I spend my life creating images
A rural farming man was he
The scene that I set in those times long ago
When Stations were very often remote
Working conditions were far from acceptable
Living conditions were very basic you could note
Roads were merely tracks across the bush or the ranges
Giving access from the fields to the barns
Where the harvest was stored in the sacks piled high
Until the market price was right according to yarns
I’ve heard told my some old timers
Relating how things were in the past
Agriculture on the open ranges
In areas Oh! so vast
Now it’s time to start my new creation
The boards are fitted and secured
Ready for my brushes and paints
My deepest attention is assured
For every stroke or swathe with a brush
Is very special to me
To achieve a pictorial record of the past
For today’s visitors and posterity
I’m floating a beige for background below
With greyish blue for the sky
Adding the sheds in the distance
And a hint of wire fence to one side
Then bring in the barns behind the Truck
Maybe where the drivers hide
Away from the heat of the midday sun
Ready to haul their heavy load of grain
Waiting perhaps for the price to rise
Or maybe in a hurry to beat the rain
And there in the foreground the vintage truck
Teams of horses now obsolete
Machines that do the work more quickly
Driver and mate in a more comfortable seat
Perspective is all important
The faded gold on the Driver’s cab
Everything has to give the appearance of age
The old vehicle has to look a trifle drab
Now I’ll float a little relief on ground of the yard
Just a few blades of grass are seen
But only alongside the fence
An even that is not green
For me it has been like a walk in the past
Hoping every detail I’ve depicted just right
Creating an image of life as it was
And then my Mural will be on sight.
Dennis Shrubshall 12th August 2013
Originally Posted by Poet –
More splendid work Shrubby, thanks again, love Kim.
From a Painting by Colin Perry.
The Windmill
Imagine the midst of Summer
And being footloose and fancy free
Think of a place to enjoy yourself
Where you’re never far from the Sea
Perhaps the beaches will be crowded
And towels bodies and deckchairs cover the sand
Is it possible to find peace and tranquillity
In this locality close at hand
You’ve decided to hire a boat maybe
From the boatyard at Yarmouth nearby
To go northward under Haven Bridge
Into Breydon Water where time will fly
For here in this vast expanse of water
Several rivers converge
Before flowing down to Gorleston
Where into the Sea they merge
But now you’re heading westwards
Amongst motor boats and sailing boats galore
Far more interesting perhaps
Than sitting on an overcrowded shore
Passing now a licenced mooring
Where an Inn’s busy selling Beer and Ales
To quench the thirst of the water born travellers
Before they once more hoist their sails
Here and there the boats are anchored
Some occupants sitting with rods in hand
Will this be their lucky day
Or maybe another trip will be planned
There’s a boat or two they’re tacking now
Before getting their sails set for the turn
Whilst others are happy to sit and watch
As though they have time to burn
There are shadows mirrored in the water
As the old Windmill you pass
Standing there like a Giant looking down
Upon the vast amounts of Reed grass
Before long you will come to Burgh Castle
But to Visit the water you’ll have to leave
To see for yourself some of old rural Norfolk
And some of it’s past History to retrieve
After Tea and Scones and a visit to the Inn
Which fortunately stands nearby
It’s back to the boat for the return journey
As the sun starts to set in the Sky
So after a day of relaxing like this
Enjoying what the trip affords
It will be throttle open at a steady 5 knots
And Memories of a day on the Norfolk Broads
Dennis Shrubshall 17th January 2019
.jpg)
The Windmill
Imagine the midst of Summer
And being footloose and fancy free
Think of a place to enjoy yourself
Where you’re never far from the Sea
Perhaps the beaches will be crowded
And towels bodies and deckchairs cover the sand
Is it possible to find peace and tranquillity
In this locality close at hand
You’ve decided to hire a boat maybe
From the boatyard at Yarmouth nearby
To go northward under Haven Bridge
Into Breydon Water where time will fly
For here in this vast expanse of water
Several rivers converge
Before flowing down to Gorleston
Where into the Sea they merge
But now you’re heading westwards
Amongst motor boats and sailing boats galore
Far more interesting perhaps
Than sitting on an overcrowded shore
Passing now a licenced mooring
Where an Inn’s busy selling Beer and Ales
To quench the thirst of the water born travellers
Before they once more hoist their sails
Here and there the boats are anchored
Some occupants sitting with rods in hand
Will this be their lucky day
Or maybe another trip will be planned
There’s a boat or two they’re tacking now
Before getting their sails set for the turn
Whilst others are happy to sit and watch
As though they have time to burn
There are shadows mirrored in the water
As the old Windmill you pass
Standing there like a Giant looking down
Upon the vast amounts of Reed grass
Before long you will come to Burgh Castle
But to Visit the water you’ll have to leave
To see for yourself some of old rural Norfolk
And some of it’s past History to retrieve
After Tea and Scones and a visit to the Inn
Which fortunately stands nearby
It’s back to the boat for the return journey
As the sun starts to set in the Sky
So after a day of relaxing like this
Enjoying what the trip affords
It will be throttle open at a steady 5 knots
And Memories of a day on the Norfolk Broads
Dennis Shrubshall 17th January 2019
Originally Posted by Poet –
Great stuff again, Shrubby, thank you, and I always love the paintings too, love Kim.
Australian Full Moon
Looking at this idyllic scene
May make us wonder you and I
How these creatures came to Australia
In the years now long gone by
Apparently a Surgeon
John Harris was his name
And in the early 1800’s
Introduced 400 deer to his farm and became
Known as the man who brought in the Chital Deer
The beautiful Indian Spotted I’m told
Joined later by many other Breeds
Always a sight for many to behold
But sadly on the downside
As with many other animals in the wild
Sometimes they damage crops and vegetation
Or their existence is defiled
By the ever present so called Hunters
Who really think it’s cute
In the name of “Sport”, in brackets
These defenceless animals will shoot
And many times leave the carcases where they fall
For the birds and dingo’s to feed
Encouraging another unwanted nuisance
To survive and continue to breed
There must be many pro’s and con’s
To knowing which is right
But the scene now placed before us
For many is a delight
So back now to this Australian lakeside
Whistling Waltzing Matilda a native tune
Watching a Deer and her fawn
Drinking under the fullest Moon
Dennis Shrubshall 24th January 2019
.jpg)
Looking at this idyllic scene
May make us wonder you and I
How these creatures came to Australia
In the years now long gone by
Apparently a Surgeon
John Harris was his name
And in the early 1800’s
Introduced 400 deer to his farm and became
Known as the man who brought in the Chital Deer
The beautiful Indian Spotted I’m told
Joined later by many other Breeds
Always a sight for many to behold
But sadly on the downside
As with many other animals in the wild
Sometimes they damage crops and vegetation
Or their existence is defiled
By the ever present so called Hunters
Who really think it’s cute
In the name of “Sport”, in brackets
These defenceless animals will shoot
And many times leave the carcases where they fall
For the birds and dingo’s to feed
Encouraging another unwanted nuisance
To survive and continue to breed
There must be many pro’s and con’s
To knowing which is right
But the scene now placed before us
For many is a delight
So back now to this Australian lakeside
Whistling Waltzing Matilda a native tune
Watching a Deer and her fawn
Drinking under the fullest Moon
Dennis Shrubshall 24th January 2019
Originally Posted by Poet –
Thank you again Shrubby, great stuff and a beautiful pic, love Kim.
Fisherman’s walk
Close your eyes if you will now
And try to think back in time
Long before this photo was taken
Perhaps before your childhood and mine
When the solitary lamp was ignited gas
To lighten the way of those passing through
This old pedestrian walkway
Which probably only local residents knew
For this was a link between the Town and Old Leigh
And the fishermen’s cottages it passed
Leading down to the waterside
Where the tide rises or ebbs fast
With the rising sun in the morning
Or a glowing Sunset at night
Boats always leaving or returning home
Always a welcoming sight
And for the tired fishermen now
A walk up this pathway in gas light
A welcoming meal at the end of the day
As they leave the walkway for the night
Dennis Shrubshall 4th February 2019
.jpg)
Close your eyes if you will now
And try to think back in time
Long before this photo was taken
Perhaps before your childhood and mine
When the solitary lamp was ignited gas
To lighten the way of those passing through
This old pedestrian walkway
Which probably only local residents knew
For this was a link between the Town and Old Leigh
And the fishermen’s cottages it passed
Leading down to the waterside
Where the tide rises or ebbs fast
With the rising sun in the morning
Or a glowing Sunset at night
Boats always leaving or returning home
Always a welcoming sight
And for the tired fishermen now
A walk up this pathway in gas light
A welcoming meal at the end of the day
As they leave the walkway for the night
Dennis Shrubshall 4th February 2019
Originally Posted by Poet –
How I love your words and pics Shrubby, thank you again, love Kim.
Ode to St. Valentine’s Day
Have you ever sat and wondered
How a certain day came about
What was it’s origination
Was there any reason for doubt
‘twas said in the past that it started
In ancient Rome it seems
As a day of celebration
And creating Lover’s dreams
On the day before Lupercalia
February the Fourteenth to be exact
But there are many variations
And I’m not sure which is fact
For Claudio 11 the Emperor of Rome
All those many years ago
Cancelled the privilege of Marriage to couples
So that Bachelors to war his soldiers would go
Then ‘tis said a certain Saint Valentine
Ignored the rule and couples he still wed
Until Claudio became aware of his actions and announced
“To the dungeons with the scoundrel and off with his head”
And lo and behold that’s what happened
In the cells he was cast to await
Clubbing to death and beheading
Was the sentence to be his fate
Whilst he was waiting to meet his demise
With a sentence so vicious and hard
He wrote his last words to his loved one
Perhaps creating the first Valentine’s Card
And it still serves today as a sign of deep affection
To Beaux & Belles of this World far and wide
As a permanent Memorial to Saint Valentine, it’s founder
On the 14th of February the day that he died.
Dennis Shrubshall 5th February 2011
.jpg)
Have you ever sat and wondered
How a certain day came about
What was it’s origination
Was there any reason for doubt
‘twas said in the past that it started
In ancient Rome it seems
As a day of celebration
And creating Lover’s dreams
On the day before Lupercalia
February the Fourteenth to be exact
But there are many variations
And I’m not sure which is fact
For Claudio 11 the Emperor of Rome
All those many years ago
Cancelled the privilege of Marriage to couples
So that Bachelors to war his soldiers would go
Then ‘tis said a certain Saint Valentine
Ignored the rule and couples he still wed
Until Claudio became aware of his actions and announced
“To the dungeons with the scoundrel and off with his head”
And lo and behold that’s what happened
In the cells he was cast to await
Clubbing to death and beheading
Was the sentence to be his fate
Whilst he was waiting to meet his demise
With a sentence so vicious and hard
He wrote his last words to his loved one
Perhaps creating the first Valentine’s Card
And it still serves today as a sign of deep affection
To Beaux & Belles of this World far and wide
As a permanent Memorial to Saint Valentine, it’s founder
On the 14th of February the day that he died.
Dennis Shrubshall 5th February 2011
Originally Posted by Poet –
Very enlightening Shrubby, love it as always, thank you, Kim.
Valentines Day
How the years pass from Season to Season
Romantics remembering chances missed
Wondering if maybe tomorrow will welcome
The start perhaps for a lovers tryst
Will the unknown future be full of suspense
As at a new dawn they pensively wait
Looking to the horizon as the Sun Rises
Eagerly awaiting the Postman’s call at the gate
Wondering perhaps will the mail he delivers
Contain a Card from a loved one so dear
As today is the 14th of February 2013
But it’s St. Valentines Day every year
For Beaux and Belles the length of the land
To send cards and gifts to display their devotion
Perhaps a Single Rose tightly held in the hand
Can bring forth a show of emotion
Followed perhaps by a smile or some tears
Not of sadness but expression of bliss
But if the delivery was made by a special someone
They may be rewarded with a hug and a kiss
For this is the Day traditionally known
For all those young people in love
To demonstrate their feelings for each other
Under the Silvery Moon up above
And perhaps under oath vow to each other
For life they would always be true
Ever hopeful that their dreams would be truly fulfilled
With a Happy Ending as all good Fairy Tales do.
Dennis Shrubshall 12th February 2012
.jpg)
How the years pass from Season to Season
Romantics remembering chances missed
Wondering if maybe tomorrow will welcome
The start perhaps for a lovers tryst
Will the unknown future be full of suspense
As at a new dawn they pensively wait
Looking to the horizon as the Sun Rises
Eagerly awaiting the Postman’s call at the gate
Wondering perhaps will the mail he delivers
Contain a Card from a loved one so dear
As today is the 14th of February 2013
But it’s St. Valentines Day every year
For Beaux and Belles the length of the land
To send cards and gifts to display their devotion
Perhaps a Single Rose tightly held in the hand
Can bring forth a show of emotion
Followed perhaps by a smile or some tears
Not of sadness but expression of bliss
But if the delivery was made by a special someone
They may be rewarded with a hug and a kiss
For this is the Day traditionally known
For all those young people in love
To demonstrate their feelings for each other
Under the Silvery Moon up above
And perhaps under oath vow to each other
For life they would always be true
Ever hopeful that their dreams would be truly fulfilled
With a Happy Ending as all good Fairy Tales do.
Dennis Shrubshall 12th February 2012
Originally Posted by Poet –
So romantic Shrubby, thank you again, love Kim.
The Northern Lights
Have you ever fancied a holiday with a difference
To witness something that most folks won’t see
To view the Aurora Borealis
And experience Nature’s creativity
Or the Northern Lights as they are better known
By people the whole World wide
Who wish to view a natural Kaleidoscope
But by distance most of us are denied
For one needs to travel to the frozen North
Scandinavia or Alaska maybe
To witness this extravaganza of light
From across the Arctic Sea
The timing is quite critical
As it’s pointless to arrive too soon
For you’re looking for a cloudless night
Without much of a trace of the Moon
For the power of the moonlight
Can limit the intensity of colour in the display
And your ultimate goal is “SolarMax”
Which is expected this year some would say
The sight you will see may vary in colour
Perhaps Neon Green in the sky
And maybe even tinges of Yellow and Red
According to Solar particles and gases mixing as they pass by
This Solar and molecular action takes place
200 miles above the Earth we know
And only when Particles enter the Northern atmosphere
Creating such a wonderful show
The name “Aurora Borealis” was given
By Galileo in infinite wisdom folks say
But the Vikings reckoned the glowing lights
Were Maidens carrying fallen warriors to Valhalla far away
So having this information before you
Has it tempted you to book a flight
To visit one of these Arctic resorts
And watch the “Aurora Borealis by night
Dennis Shrubshall 17th December 2012
.jpg)
Have you ever fancied a holiday with a difference
To witness something that most folks won’t see
To view the Aurora Borealis
And experience Nature’s creativity
Or the Northern Lights as they are better known
By people the whole World wide
Who wish to view a natural Kaleidoscope
But by distance most of us are denied
For one needs to travel to the frozen North
Scandinavia or Alaska maybe
To witness this extravaganza of light
From across the Arctic Sea
The timing is quite critical
As it’s pointless to arrive too soon
For you’re looking for a cloudless night
Without much of a trace of the Moon
For the power of the moonlight
Can limit the intensity of colour in the display
And your ultimate goal is “SolarMax”
Which is expected this year some would say
The sight you will see may vary in colour
Perhaps Neon Green in the sky
And maybe even tinges of Yellow and Red
According to Solar particles and gases mixing as they pass by
This Solar and molecular action takes place
200 miles above the Earth we know
And only when Particles enter the Northern atmosphere
Creating such a wonderful show
The name “Aurora Borealis” was given
By Galileo in infinite wisdom folks say
But the Vikings reckoned the glowing lights
Were Maidens carrying fallen warriors to Valhalla far away
So having this information before you
Has it tempted you to book a flight
To visit one of these Arctic resorts
And watch the “Aurora Borealis by night
Dennis Shrubshall 17th December 2012
Originally Posted by Poet –
This is just amazing Shrubby, thank you again, love Kim.
This is a poem I wrote yesterday - just thought I'd share it!
"I once was young."
So many years have passed my ken, It takes a while remembering when,
I used to hold my mother's hand and look up skyward just to see,
The faces which were turned to me as I would skip, and say hello,
In my response so childishly, because you see,
I once was young.
I grew as all do 'til I knew, that no more height was there to be,
But happy with my stature which, ne'er caused a stir or friction's itch,
My legs were long enough to touch, the ground at one end and too, my crotch,
So why should I bemoan my lot, because you see,
I once was young.
I found a maid, a gorgeous bride she was and made my life a joy,
Three children came at first a boy, and then a girl, and last a boy,
So was our family quite complete because of her and her dancing feet,
We travelled far, we travelled wide, and life was good because you see,
I once was young.
But now do I, as years left to my span, grow fewer as they do for man,
Cry for the ones that now have flown, or wail and say it isn't fair,
Whatever happened to my hair that now is not the raven black,
That crowned my head and hugged my chest because you see,
I once was young.
The sinews strong, the muscles firm, they rippled as, I would so turn,
That few would dare to gainsay me, but never ever needlessly,
Did I e'er seek to raise in strife, the anger in another's life,
There's room for all upon this earth, it is no way to prove one's worth because you see,
I once was young.
I count myself a lucky man, my bride is still to me so fair,
And I ever loved her golden hair, our children bring such blessings dear,
Contentment lies so light on me, no conscience black, or guilt to bear,
So why should I have any fear, of what there lies ahead for me, Because you see,
I once was young.
I once was young!
"I once was young."
So many years have passed my ken, It takes a while remembering when,
I used to hold my mother's hand and look up skyward just to see,
The faces which were turned to me as I would skip, and say hello,
In my response so childishly, because you see,
I once was young.
I grew as all do 'til I knew, that no more height was there to be,
But happy with my stature which, ne'er caused a stir or friction's itch,
My legs were long enough to touch, the ground at one end and too, my crotch,
So why should I bemoan my lot, because you see,
I once was young.
I found a maid, a gorgeous bride she was and made my life a joy,
Three children came at first a boy, and then a girl, and last a boy,
So was our family quite complete because of her and her dancing feet,
We travelled far, we travelled wide, and life was good because you see,
I once was young.
But now do I, as years left to my span, grow fewer as they do for man,
Cry for the ones that now have flown, or wail and say it isn't fair,
Whatever happened to my hair that now is not the raven black,
That crowned my head and hugged my chest because you see,
I once was young.
The sinews strong, the muscles firm, they rippled as, I would so turn,
That few would dare to gainsay me, but never ever needlessly,
Did I e'er seek to raise in strife, the anger in another's life,
There's room for all upon this earth, it is no way to prove one's worth because you see,
I once was young.
I count myself a lucky man, my bride is still to me so fair,
And I ever loved her golden hair, our children bring such blessings dear,
Contentment lies so light on me, no conscience black, or guilt to bear,
So why should I have any fear, of what there lies ahead for me, Because you see,
I once was young.
I once was young!
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Thanks for this Terry, great stuff!!!
Many thanks Kim - I have a poetry thread on another site on which I have just posted the above poem and where I once offered to write a poem on any subject suggested. I did get a few replies so if you think of something I'll have a go for you. X
MOTHER
Who was there to hear my first cry
When into this world I was born
To bring to my Mother the gift of love
On a Winters day ‘fore dawn
She cherished me like a Mother should
And fed me and mad sure I was warm
Then washed me and suitably clothed me
Taking care that I came to no harm
With 4 brothers and a sister to join me
A happy Family we became
All proud of this lady our Mother
With love she treated us all the same
When War came so did her worries
To feed us all was a chore
Mother would often have nothing to eat
So that we could have just that little food more
But love was there in abundance
And it grew with us through Life
Although to us this lovely lady was our Mother
To our Dad she was his loving Wife
To try to repay the love that she’s shown
We all loved her in return like no other
For we were her loving Family
And she was always our Darling Mother
Dennis Shrubshall 9th March 2001
.jpg)
Who was there to hear my first cry
When into this world I was born
To bring to my Mother the gift of love
On a Winters day ‘fore dawn
She cherished me like a Mother should
And fed me and mad sure I was warm
Then washed me and suitably clothed me
Taking care that I came to no harm
With 4 brothers and a sister to join me
A happy Family we became
All proud of this lady our Mother
With love she treated us all the same
When War came so did her worries
To feed us all was a chore
Mother would often have nothing to eat
So that we could have just that little food more
But love was there in abundance
And it grew with us through Life
Although to us this lovely lady was our Mother
To our Dad she was his loving Wife
To try to repay the love that she’s shown
We all loved her in return like no other
For we were her loving Family
And she was always our Darling Mother
Dennis Shrubshall 9th March 2001
Originally Posted by Poet –
Thank you Shrubby, what beautiful words especially for today, Love Kim x
.jpg?max-width=34&width-to-height-ratio=1&quality=90)
Hi Kim,
The 'I once was young' poem has brought about a response from a fellow site member on the other site I mentioned. He has asked if he may copy it and send it to some of his friends and says he is convinced that they will love it and the 'looking back' aspect within the lines. I said yes - after all it is flattering isn't it?
As for Mother's Day I wish I'd had the kind of mother that I could remember with affection. Sorry to say I didn't have one like that - quite the reverse!
The 'I once was young' poem has brought about a response from a fellow site member on the other site I mentioned. He has asked if he may copy it and send it to some of his friends and says he is convinced that they will love it and the 'looking back' aspect within the lines. I said yes - after all it is flattering isn't it?
As for Mother's Day I wish I'd had the kind of mother that I could remember with affection. Sorry to say I didn't have one like that - quite the reverse!
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Hi Terry, good to know that someone has asked to copy your poem - let's have some more !!!
Originally Posted by Geordie
Sorry Geordie - I'm not looking for an argument but my mother died in1989 and I have never missed her for even one second. If you knew the story you would also know why.
SPRING IN VIEW
In the bleak of Winter
At the window I stand and stare
To see which of Nature's wonders
Withstands the Arctic air
A silver blanket covers the grass
Frost glistens in the tree
But here and there in little bunches
Daffodils I see
The Crocus and the Snowdrop
And even Jonquils too
Join the fading Winter Jasmine
Indicating Spring is surely due
Regal Camellia blooms are lying
'midst leaves with silken sheen
Majestic Magnolia blossoms opening
Flowering Cherry will soon be seen
Hyacinth and Polyanthus
Side by side in beds
Surrounded by colourful Violas
With pretty variegated heads
Weather's warmer, Sun is up
Grass just grows and grows
Also Dandelion and Buttercup
Oh! look, Summers' very first Rose.
Dennis Shrubshall
.jpg)
In the bleak of Winter
At the window I stand and stare
To see which of Nature's wonders
Withstands the Arctic air
A silver blanket covers the grass
Frost glistens in the tree
But here and there in little bunches
Daffodils I see
The Crocus and the Snowdrop
And even Jonquils too
Join the fading Winter Jasmine
Indicating Spring is surely due
Regal Camellia blooms are lying
'midst leaves with silken sheen
Majestic Magnolia blossoms opening
Flowering Cherry will soon be seen
Hyacinth and Polyanthus
Side by side in beds
Surrounded by colourful Violas
With pretty variegated heads
Weather's warmer, Sun is up
Grass just grows and grows
Also Dandelion and Buttercup
Oh! look, Summers' very first Rose.
Dennis Shrubshall
Originally Posted by Poet –
Thanks again Shrubby, I have a large flowering cherry tree in my front garden and it is looking full of promise now. Thanks for the lovely pic. Love Kim x
Falklands 37 years on
History is made in many forms
Not known to one and all
Some of the facts are documented
Others older persons recall
A conflict that is ever in my mind
Well past my Service time
When the biggest Armada since World War 2
Left the U K shores for the South Atlantic clime
To thwart the claim by Argentina
To seize a Sovereign Isle
That was the task of the British Military force
Carried out in their own inimitable style
But many men suffered and many men died
In the Falklands all those years ago
And many were mentally wounded
The scars of their wounds never show
For the damage to them was buried deep
In their souls and in their mind
With an ever constant reminder
Of the colleagues they left behind
The horror of battle the noise and the smell
For the survivors is with them yet
So let's bow our heads and remember them all
Our heroes we must never forget.
As we go about our everyday chores
How many would stand and think of the cost
Of that tragic conflict in the South Atlantic
Where all those young lives were lost.
Dennis Shrubshall 10th July 2011
.jpg)
History is made in many forms
Not known to one and all
Some of the facts are documented
Others older persons recall
A conflict that is ever in my mind
Well past my Service time
When the biggest Armada since World War 2
Left the U K shores for the South Atlantic clime
To thwart the claim by Argentina
To seize a Sovereign Isle
That was the task of the British Military force
Carried out in their own inimitable style
But many men suffered and many men died
In the Falklands all those years ago
And many were mentally wounded
The scars of their wounds never show
For the damage to them was buried deep
In their souls and in their mind
With an ever constant reminder
Of the colleagues they left behind
The horror of battle the noise and the smell
For the survivors is with them yet
So let's bow our heads and remember them all
Our heroes we must never forget.
As we go about our everyday chores
How many would stand and think of the cost
Of that tragic conflict in the South Atlantic
Where all those young lives were lost.
Dennis Shrubshall 10th July 2011
Originally Posted by Poet –
Thank you again, Shrubby. I salute them all.
Hi Kim,
You asked for another poem!
'THE WAVES.'
Dedicated to Jo
We walk along the ocean's shores and marvel at the formless view,
Forever in a motion so, perpetual but yet doth show, the forces ever in such play,
They never will e'er fade away,
The waves.
Like thunder they collide with earth, of myriad layers made of sand, put there by time's immortal hand,
A surfer's paradise, for those who play amid the sea's eternal swells and troughs, we see,
The while they sport, so also they,
The waves.
A gentle stroll along the sands brings wondrous sights so close at hand,
And ever rippling to the shore, where e'er we look, so many more,
But these are gentle and so mild, they scarcely break the surface so not to fright the smallest child,
The waves.
And often as we lie abed, we bring to mind what we have seen, when venturing along the shore,
And call to mind the things we've said, of peaceful scenes and sunsets rare,
Illuminating foam flecked tops of waves translucent, coruscating as sunbeams strike and turn them into gems of light,
The waves.
Since first this earth did cease its glow and let the trees and flowers grow we know,
That they will ever ebb and flow and source a multitude of things, there'll be some sad, and others glad,
We'll never really truly have the time to watch what may befall when finally the trumpet's call rings out to stay,
The waves.
And so we can but take the time while we do pass o'er earth's sweet clime,
To smile and laugh and jest and chaff amongst ourselves and all mankind,
And so salute whoever has this designed or randomly has it consigned for us to please by virtue of,
The waves.
You asked for another poem!
'THE WAVES.'
Dedicated to Jo
We walk along the ocean's shores and marvel at the formless view,
Forever in a motion so, perpetual but yet doth show, the forces ever in such play,
They never will e'er fade away,
The waves.
Like thunder they collide with earth, of myriad layers made of sand, put there by time's immortal hand,
A surfer's paradise, for those who play amid the sea's eternal swells and troughs, we see,
The while they sport, so also they,
The waves.
A gentle stroll along the sands brings wondrous sights so close at hand,
And ever rippling to the shore, where e'er we look, so many more,
But these are gentle and so mild, they scarcely break the surface so not to fright the smallest child,
The waves.
And often as we lie abed, we bring to mind what we have seen, when venturing along the shore,
And call to mind the things we've said, of peaceful scenes and sunsets rare,
Illuminating foam flecked tops of waves translucent, coruscating as sunbeams strike and turn them into gems of light,
The waves.
Since first this earth did cease its glow and let the trees and flowers grow we know,
That they will ever ebb and flow and source a multitude of things, there'll be some sad, and others glad,
We'll never really truly have the time to watch what may befall when finally the trumpet's call rings out to stay,
The waves.
And so we can but take the time while we do pass o'er earth's sweet clime,
To smile and laugh and jest and chaff amongst ourselves and all mankind,
And so salute whoever has this designed or randomly has it consigned for us to please by virtue of,
The waves.
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Thank you Terry, love it, Kim x
Storm on a beach
Yet another day in front of the Easel
Canvas tightly stretched on it’s frame
A selection of oils at one side ready for use
Your Palette and brush in your hands once again
The base coat of blue is a help with the sky
And maybe for the seascape too
It’s time to add greys and whites for the clouds
Creating a colourful hue
Using darker grey for some anger in the sky
Against the slight background of blue
Tinged with yellow ochre for the fading sun
Indicating heavy rainclouds too
Then down to the bottom of the canvas now
Viewed as tho’ from where you stand
Grey and green for the weed and the rocks
And Gold for the beach of sand
The Sea appears to be multi coloured
As the waves appear to crash upon the shore
Grey and dark green with white spuming crests
A sight you seen often before
And offshore to depict the relief that you seek
Boats bobbing and rolling at they’re moored at the Buoys
White Red Blue and Green and some varnished wood
The whim of these boatsmen with their toys
So now it is time to put away your brushes
And be homeward bound once more
Only to find that the weather has worsened
Similar to that portrayed on the imaged shore
The track that you drive is now very muddy
Driving is difficult to the extreme
Is this really happening to you
Or yet just a nightmare or dream
But now the journey for today has ended
You’re in you own little home once more
Plenty of wood on the fire in the lounge
Leaving the bad weather behind your front door
Then into the Kitchen a meal quickly prepared
And maybe a glass of wine or two
Seated in front of the welcome blaze
Warming you through and through
And when the evening is done and its time for bed
How pleasant the evening would seem
Put you head on the pillow and close your eyes
To sleep perchance to dream
Dennis Shrubshall 15th June 2013
.jpg)
Yet another day in front of the Easel
Canvas tightly stretched on it’s frame
A selection of oils at one side ready for use
Your Palette and brush in your hands once again
The base coat of blue is a help with the sky
And maybe for the seascape too
It’s time to add greys and whites for the clouds
Creating a colourful hue
Using darker grey for some anger in the sky
Against the slight background of blue
Tinged with yellow ochre for the fading sun
Indicating heavy rainclouds too
Then down to the bottom of the canvas now
Viewed as tho’ from where you stand
Grey and green for the weed and the rocks
And Gold for the beach of sand
The Sea appears to be multi coloured
As the waves appear to crash upon the shore
Grey and dark green with white spuming crests
A sight you seen often before
And offshore to depict the relief that you seek
Boats bobbing and rolling at they’re moored at the Buoys
White Red Blue and Green and some varnished wood
The whim of these boatsmen with their toys
So now it is time to put away your brushes
And be homeward bound once more
Only to find that the weather has worsened
Similar to that portrayed on the imaged shore
The track that you drive is now very muddy
Driving is difficult to the extreme
Is this really happening to you
Or yet just a nightmare or dream
But now the journey for today has ended
You’re in you own little home once more
Plenty of wood on the fire in the lounge
Leaving the bad weather behind your front door
Then into the Kitchen a meal quickly prepared
And maybe a glass of wine or two
Seated in front of the welcome blaze
Warming you through and through
And when the evening is done and its time for bed
How pleasant the evening would seem
Put you head on the pillow and close your eyes
To sleep perchance to dream
Dennis Shrubshall 15th June 2013
Originally Posted by Poet –
Thank you again Shrubby and for the pic especially - reminds me of home (Isle of Wight), love Kim x
Twilight.
As the sun begins to fade
And the night is drawing nigh
Out of the window I set my gaze
To the slowly darkening sky
Which now has changed to a darkening Pink
That’s edged with a ribbon of gold
It’s a truly magnificent Sunset
A pleasure to behold
But as the day just slips away
The silence seems quite muted
Devoid of the myriads of birds
And songs liberally distributed
Amongst the hedgerows and the trees
Their joy was shown with singing
As freely they flew in their world in the sky
Or on some of the treetops clinging
Tho’ now not a sign of a bird can be found
As the darkness of night closes in
Nocturnal animals on the ground
Their night-time scavenge to begin
I nearly forgot the wily old Barn Owl
Perched in the rafters since the morn’
Patiently awaiting the return of the fieldmice
On the floor, and eating the corn
Circling the chicken coops again
Was the fox on his nightly habit
Unless on his journey he might waylay
A poor unsuspecting rabbit
After these few hours of darkness
Whilst most of the people sleep
The sky is getting lighter, it seems
As the watch of the dawn we keep
And if we care to stand and listen
If only for a minute
Perhaps we’ll hear the chorus of dawn
The Blackbird, The Lark and The Linnet
Dennis Shrubshall 19th January 2007
.jpg)
As the sun begins to fade
And the night is drawing nigh
Out of the window I set my gaze
To the slowly darkening sky
Which now has changed to a darkening Pink
That’s edged with a ribbon of gold
It’s a truly magnificent Sunset
A pleasure to behold
But as the day just slips away
The silence seems quite muted
Devoid of the myriads of birds
And songs liberally distributed
Amongst the hedgerows and the trees
Their joy was shown with singing
As freely they flew in their world in the sky
Or on some of the treetops clinging
Tho’ now not a sign of a bird can be found
As the darkness of night closes in
Nocturnal animals on the ground
Their night-time scavenge to begin
I nearly forgot the wily old Barn Owl
Perched in the rafters since the morn’
Patiently awaiting the return of the fieldmice
On the floor, and eating the corn
Circling the chicken coops again
Was the fox on his nightly habit
Unless on his journey he might waylay
A poor unsuspecting rabbit
After these few hours of darkness
Whilst most of the people sleep
The sky is getting lighter, it seems
As the watch of the dawn we keep
And if we care to stand and listen
If only for a minute
Perhaps we’ll hear the chorus of dawn
The Blackbird, The Lark and The Linnet
Dennis Shrubshall 19th January 2007
Originally Posted by Poet –
Another wonderful piece Shrubby, thank you, love Kim x
Hi Kim,
Here's another one for you and all who look in here. It's really Part Two of the theme of waves but a different type as you will see.
Hope you like this one.
For Jo
THE WAVES.
We do not see them for they simply lie beyond our ken,
The day Creation took its form, 'twas ne'er the same again,
For so began the genesis of all we know today,
And science has revealed the answers, of the atoms as they play.
Our lives are full of sweet delights, of moonbeams vast array,
And sunbeams too which bring us warmth when sunshine's on it's way,
But pause a while and think of how the light falls from afar,
And how it is that we can see each tiny twinkling star.
The answer is that photons give us all that we can see,
Although they are too minuscule and hardly even weigh,
They come from all the moonbeams and sunbeams and all such,
Reflections and deflections and also mirrors add their touch.
Now pause again and read and know how this all came to be,
For when all's put together it's as clear as you and me,
This greatest gift comes not alone in beams as one may think,
But beams which travel far in waves, now truly you must see.
It's true indeed that waves abound and light up all the sky,
And all that lies around us on the earth and in the sky,
But come so in a fashion that has coddled every brain,
Until the scientific mind found a way thus to explain.
A beam, a wave, approach together just like hand in hand,
And one without the other would not be quite as grand,
So nature has so favoured us and made things all so bright,
That we are highly honoured by the wondrous waves of light.
Here's another one for you and all who look in here. It's really Part Two of the theme of waves but a different type as you will see.
Hope you like this one.
For Jo
THE WAVES.
We do not see them for they simply lie beyond our ken,
The day Creation took its form, 'twas ne'er the same again,
For so began the genesis of all we know today,
And science has revealed the answers, of the atoms as they play.
Our lives are full of sweet delights, of moonbeams vast array,
And sunbeams too which bring us warmth when sunshine's on it's way,
But pause a while and think of how the light falls from afar,
And how it is that we can see each tiny twinkling star.
The answer is that photons give us all that we can see,
Although they are too minuscule and hardly even weigh,
They come from all the moonbeams and sunbeams and all such,
Reflections and deflections and also mirrors add their touch.
Now pause again and read and know how this all came to be,
For when all's put together it's as clear as you and me,
This greatest gift comes not alone in beams as one may think,
But beams which travel far in waves, now truly you must see.
It's true indeed that waves abound and light up all the sky,
And all that lies around us on the earth and in the sky,
But come so in a fashion that has coddled every brain,
Until the scientific mind found a way thus to explain.
A beam, a wave, approach together just like hand in hand,
And one without the other would not be quite as grand,
So nature has so favoured us and made things all so bright,
That we are highly honoured by the wondrous waves of light.
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Thank you Terry, great stuff, love Kim x
[deleted]
From a painting by Colin Perry
Pier Train
Cast your mind back a year or two if you can
To the time before Mobile Phones , Computers and such
When many looked forward to a restful weekend
Perhaps a visit to the Seaside which meant so much
For many it meant a ride on train
Or maybe a ride on a coach
Everyone ready to enjoy themselves
As to their destination Soiuthend on Sea they approach
Some would enjoy a wander round the shops
As they passed through on their way to the beach
Whilst others looked forward to a special treat
Which was now within their reach
As they wandered down Pier Hill in the sunlight
Their thoughts now on a day on the Pier
Perhaps a steady stroll along the boardwalk
As other visitors pass them on the Railway so near
For this is the longest Pier in the World you see
Stretching One and one third miles from the shore
The reason for having it’s own trains in service
For a ride end to end or even more
When you get to the end there are various things to do
Watching the boats passing or anglers fishing
And the Lifeboat House maybe you can view
There’s also a small Bar for a welcoming beer
To quench the salty dry parched lips
Or matbe a look round the little gitft shop
And finish up with local fish and chips
So now when your legs are feeling weary
And no longer able to walk the distance again
You walk into a waiting carriage and sit and wait
For a welcome return trip to the shore on the train
And when you sit and think about your day out
I would think it’s a very good bet
That Southend Pier with it’s own Railway
Is a memory you’ll never forget
Dennis Shrubshall 8th April 2019
.jpg)
Pier Train
Cast your mind back a year or two if you can
To the time before Mobile Phones , Computers and such
When many looked forward to a restful weekend
Perhaps a visit to the Seaside which meant so much
For many it meant a ride on train
Or maybe a ride on a coach
Everyone ready to enjoy themselves
As to their destination Soiuthend on Sea they approach
Some would enjoy a wander round the shops
As they passed through on their way to the beach
Whilst others looked forward to a special treat
Which was now within their reach
As they wandered down Pier Hill in the sunlight
Their thoughts now on a day on the Pier
Perhaps a steady stroll along the boardwalk
As other visitors pass them on the Railway so near
For this is the longest Pier in the World you see
Stretching One and one third miles from the shore
The reason for having it’s own trains in service
For a ride end to end or even more
When you get to the end there are various things to do
Watching the boats passing or anglers fishing
And the Lifeboat House maybe you can view
There’s also a small Bar for a welcoming beer
To quench the salty dry parched lips
Or matbe a look round the little gitft shop
And finish up with local fish and chips
So now when your legs are feeling weary
And no longer able to walk the distance again
You walk into a waiting carriage and sit and wait
For a welcome return trip to the shore on the train
And when you sit and think about your day out
I would think it’s a very good bet
That Southend Pier with it’s own Railway
Is a memory you’ll never forget
Dennis Shrubshall 8th April 2019
Thanks again Shrubby, a similar reminder of Ryde Pier (Isle of Wight), love, Kim x
Old Leigh Photography by John Pearman
Fishing Boat Souvenir
On a beautiful Spring Morning
On the saltings down at Leigh
Gently rowing on the ebb tide
On a Sea of tranquillity
Then lo and behold beside us
A veritable blast from the past
The old Thames Bawley fishing boat
Still complete with a mast
But her sailing days are long gone now
As we view this decaying hull
A 40ft vessel of days gone by
Where the years and weather have taken their toll
Reclaimed from the mud some years ago
By enthusiasts no doubt
To create a monument for the future
Certain work was carried out
The Souvenir now carries the names of lost vessels
Of this species Lazer etched perhaps to be viewed
By other enthusiasts of the future
At this idyllic scene which may be construed
As a Graveyard for a seaborne vessel
Depicting locals fishing in times now past
But now I suppose it’s up to Mother Nature
To define how long this Memorial Souvenir will last
Dennis Shrubshall 12th April 2019
.jpg)
Fishing Boat Souvenir
On a beautiful Spring Morning
On the saltings down at Leigh
Gently rowing on the ebb tide
On a Sea of tranquillity
Then lo and behold beside us
A veritable blast from the past
The old Thames Bawley fishing boat
Still complete with a mast
But her sailing days are long gone now
As we view this decaying hull
A 40ft vessel of days gone by
Where the years and weather have taken their toll
Reclaimed from the mud some years ago
By enthusiasts no doubt
To create a monument for the future
Certain work was carried out
The Souvenir now carries the names of lost vessels
Of this species Lazer etched perhaps to be viewed
By other enthusiasts of the future
At this idyllic scene which may be construed
As a Graveyard for a seaborne vessel
Depicting locals fishing in times now past
But now I suppose it’s up to Mother Nature
To define how long this Memorial Souvenir will last
Dennis Shrubshall 12th April 2019
This is rather moving Shrubby, thank you. Love Kim x
Hi Kim,
Here's another in the series on 'The Waves'. I have a couple more in mind to follow.
THE WAVES
Our passage on and round this earth, relies on one chance thing,
We do not fall nor fly out to space, nor do we need to cling,
It is the weakest force we know, yet keeps all so secure,
Fast on the bosom of the world, each footstep safe and sure.
It makes the waves we see, upon the ocean's - wide and wild,
And gives each port and every beach their morn and and evening tide,
And mighty constellations and the galaxies alike are subject to it as are we,
Who are as insignificant as any tiny flea when galaxies collide.
This force we know as gravity which serves us very well,
But naught was known that it still held, a secret, new revealed,
The waves of gravity we knew not were, still make their presence felt,
It takes an aeon as they pass, but so genteel, they would not break a glass.
So now we find that we are still subjected to, these waves that bind,
And hope that on our stellar path, so clear from all dismay,
That never shall we have a fear that our lovely world will end,
So be of cheer, for I now depart as I wave to you - My Friend.
Here's another in the series on 'The Waves'. I have a couple more in mind to follow.
THE WAVES
Our passage on and round this earth, relies on one chance thing,
We do not fall nor fly out to space, nor do we need to cling,
It is the weakest force we know, yet keeps all so secure,
Fast on the bosom of the world, each footstep safe and sure.
It makes the waves we see, upon the ocean's - wide and wild,
And gives each port and every beach their morn and and evening tide,
And mighty constellations and the galaxies alike are subject to it as are we,
Who are as insignificant as any tiny flea when galaxies collide.
This force we know as gravity which serves us very well,
But naught was known that it still held, a secret, new revealed,
The waves of gravity we knew not were, still make their presence felt,
It takes an aeon as they pass, but so genteel, they would not break a glass.
So now we find that we are still subjected to, these waves that bind,
And hope that on our stellar path, so clear from all dismay,
That never shall we have a fear that our lovely world will end,
So be of cheer, for I now depart as I wave to you - My Friend.
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Love it Terry, keep 'em coming, Kim x