Tuesday, 20 August 2013

August Morning Walk

On the sloping bank of the river,
A thousand purple thistles all a quiver,
Their furry faces turned towards the sun,
And a peacock butterfly on everyone.

Wednesday, 7 August 2013


I shall roam no more on the moor,
For I have had my fill,
A moor is a moor is a bore,
Barren and bare and soggy,
Desolate, empty and boggy,
Cowy and sheepy and pony,
Gritty, and rocky and stony,
Reedy and marshy and poor,
A tour of a tor is no better,
A walk by a stream is just wetter,
And so I have come to regret a
Day spent on the top of a hill.

Tuesday, 6 August 2013


I shall walk no more on the quay,
For I have had enough
Of chandlers shops and fish mongers and all that seaside stuff,
The light's too bright to see,
When you're at the mouth of the sea,
And it's yachty and boaty and dinghy,
Knotty and ropey and stringy,
Crabby and liney and netty,
Harbour, pontoon and jetty,
And wealthy locals with money,
Who sound like yokels - funny.