Category Archives: Poetry

Random poem

Two events have come together to make something I’m reasonably happy with; a good amount of time on a train, and an interesting MOOC.

The course is an interesting one on the Coursera platform, called “Writing for Young Readers: Opening the Treasure Chest”, from the Commonwealth Education Trust – full of delicious New Zealand accents, sometimes it’s hard to concentrate on the content 🙂

And I generally love train journeys. All that lovely time, to read, or to write – if I’m writing, too, I’m often happy with the quality of what gets produced. This is not entirely polished, but as I’ve just submitted it for Assignment 2, it’ll have to do !

To my lovely daughters

By Nicola Moxey

 

When I first met you,

It was my Grandmother’s face I saw.

You yawned, and your face settled

Into my sister’s, watching you in awe.

When your sister came along,

She looked like you.

 

Reflections of other relatives

Manifested as you grew;

Your uncle’s mischievous grin;

Striding with your father – fast!

 

Now you are grown,

These shards of faces past

Have kaleidoscoped together,

To make each uniquely perfect you;

But still from time to time

Our heritage shines through.

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A poem for your delight…

The wheat field I was detecting on earlier in the year is being prepped for oil-seed rape; soon there will be no sign of this year’s crop. Here’s a poem to remind me how beautiful it was… I learnt this poem by heart as a schoolgirl, and love it still; I particularly like the last two lines.
So here, my friend, is a blade of corn for you…

Real Property, by Harold Monro

Tell me about that harvest field.
Oh! Fifty acres of living bread.
The colour has painted itself in my heart;
The form is patterned in my head.

So now I take it everywhere,
See it whenever I look round;
Hear it growing through every sound,
Know exactly the sound it makes —
Remembering, as one must all day,
Under the pavement the live earth aches.

Trees are at the farther end,
Limes all full of the mumbling bee:
So there must be a harvest field
Whenever one thinks of a linden tree.

A hedge is about it, very tall,
Hazy and cool, and breathing sweet.
Round paradise is such a wall,
And all the day, in such a way,
In paradise the wild birds call.

You only need to close your eyes
And go within your secret mind,
And you’ll be into paradise:
I’ve learnt quite easily to find
Some linden trees and drowsy bees,
A tall sweet hedge with the corn behind.

I will not have that harvest mown:
I’ll keep the corn and leave the bread.
I’ve bought that field; it’s now my own:
I’ve fifty acres in my head.
I take it as a dream to bed.
I carry it about all day….

Sometimes when I have found a friend
I give a blade of corn away.

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