Readers' Poetry
By Cotswold Life on June 10th 2010
Would you like to add your photos?...
If you would like to share a poem, we’d like to hear from you. You can upload your poem by adding it into the comments box below...
Would you like to add your photos?...


Advertise
Beaufort Polo Club
Buy Cotswold Life Online
Contact
Competitions
Facebook
Food & Drink Awards
Latest Events
Readers' Poetry
Socials
Summer Guide
THE Blog!
Twitter
Comment by: wigs
17 August 2010 - 18:25
Summer's Fallen....
grass shimmers
in morning mist
dew escapes
as autumn has kissed
just lightly enough
to make us aware
summers end
is drawing near
trees droop
laden with fruit
leaves adorn crispness
tinged with sadness
birds gather and circulate
before making their escape
hotter climes beckon
before winter awakens
memories of summer
in minds linger
a smile recalls
the last sun
before it falls
as evenings draw in
like a blanket of softness
in the space of no time
we’re shrouded in darkness
trees stripped bare
yawning
and
inhaling
the crisp morning air
another summer has fallen
to the smell of autumn
written 17 August 2010
Helen Wiggins
Report this comment
Comment by: jennydarren
23 August 2010 - 23:33
Two Spiders
Two spiders
In the corner
Holding hands
Four inches
Apart they
glide
He leading
Her following
Him up
Into the
High corner
Together they
Dance their
Jig a jig jig
Circus acrobats
High wire acts
With no safety
Net at all
And if they fall
If they collide
Into each other
Side by side
2
Their tiny hearts
May crack and break
Shatter
Like a china jug
Two spiders
I watch them
Moving
Listening to their
Quiet dance
Just two spiders
Dancing
As only they can
Two spiders falling
F
A
L
L
I
N
G
Madly in love
June 29th 2004
Report this comment
Comment by: jennydarren
23 August 2010 - 23:37
He's gone
He's gone
but he's still around
been gone thirty years
turns up on the outward bound
And he's different
but he's here
and he sure looks a lot like
Richard Gere
A different girlfriend now in tow
he never managed to just 'go'
he's here, but then again he isn't
he's changed
you can take it as red
he's Mr thirty years later
Alive....but he's dead
and if he's better dead
better go to bed
& rest your head
I want to tell you
that you haunt my days
05/03/10
Report this comment
Comment by: jennydarren
23 August 2010 - 23:41
My life
This was my life she said
The slow dragging darkening of days
That came and went up until now
It was the length of them she thought
They seemed to take forever
To come and go
And all that wasted time
Time to remember
Time to look back
In anger in fear
Where did they go then the years
When I went to bed a young girl
And woke up an old woman?
There seemed only a curtain between them
Precious years spent on men
Years spent just missing them
And getting over them
The thick cloud of fogging memory
Where hardly one of them
Would get to me now
Or waste my days
Long black days of sleeping
And worrying over money Was this then my life
That should have been so very dear?
And if someone should ask me this question
At the end the very end
I would say that once long ago a tiny girl
Held up a star within her hands
And never even knew it had gone
Report this comment
Comment by: freerider
31 October 2010 - 00:37
I'm no Marco, but ...
I'm standing beside my bowl of eggs,
Beating them with great care,
I've added salt , some herbs and pepper -
I think chefs call it 'flair'.
All the while the pan has heated,
Gently on the hob,
As I've added milk and some butter -
Half a glass and just a knob.
I fish around inside a drawer,
Looking for a utensil,
With its wooden handle and solid shaft,
It's a spatula made of metal.
In to the pan I pour my eggs,
While turning down the heat,
For I do not want to boil my mix,
Or possibly burn the meat.
Because there are many ways to cook an egg,
Over 300 methods to make them,
Scrambled, poached, boiled or fried,
But I prefer mine with bacon!
Report this comment
Comment by: EvelynOliver
12 July 2011 - 13:16
BOREAS
From somewhere to nowhere,
More ancient than hills
From something to nothing,
The master of still
Came whistling, all listless
And shivering with chills
To chance upon someone
To sharpen his skills.
He spied the old man
In a field, and alone..
So burnished a vortex
And flew like a stone.
He tousled his tresses
And ruffled his cloak
Then swung as a long scarf
That started to choke
The old man. Set stoic
Stood firm, no release
He knew what was coming
And stiffened his knees.
The wind was unhinged
By so hearty and hale,
And bared all the sharpened
White teeth of his gale
But then, as he started
And death seemed so close,
He lost what he thought of
And skipped for the coast.
To mingle with gull wings
On cliff tops and coves,
To hiss over wet rocks
with frothing and foam.
Report this comment
Comment by: hope_155
11 October 2011 - 21:40
Men wander round these bright circles
Their lives are the greatest mysteries
First time in their loneliness
They see their competition
Shining alongside the lovers
Resonating against a thousand abandoned fires
The elders stalk the shadows
That the youth have left behind
Their wake pushes away tradition
While revolutions attack the boundaries
Left in a lawless mind
Owned by a flawless criminal
Try as they might
They have never found
A way into the brightness
They fear
But desire to find their lost souls
Hidden away under their feet
They cannot look there
Fate will not let them
The lovers they left
To find a new way to love
Report this comment
Comment by: Cleveland
13 October 2011 - 15:09
'Dear Companion'
I've often walked you at dawn, when it was the darkest hour. We had crossed the fields, felt the breeze as a new day came shining through. The keenness of the wind, so Coxwell true brings back those memories when together, my wet- nosed friend, you and I had had all the world to see. Up and up we went to tackle the hill, that Folly to soak our feet in the shimmering coldness of the morning dew. How can I thank you for what you meant to me, my thanks are but a drop in the ocean when they should be a million times larger than the sea. Thank you my faithful pet, for the tireless loyalty you have given me through the years, and when I hold your collar and lead I cherish them, I can't help myself, with many a shake of the head and a quiet tear flowing from eyes too old to see. My dear companion so ill but I'll remember you; I know I will.
Report this comment
Comment by: Cleveland
24 November 2011 - 11:26
Outside Love
Oh! Cotswolds, your charm shows. You, I first
met for moments only twenty years ago.
Forever after rambling upon your body delights
my city mind to forge a life-long attachment. Pal.
I fear, I hear echoes,of your sabre-toothed winds,
sweepings the hills, my face suffers also with
such laughter lines of love, and perhaps that
exquisite pain only lovers know. And it shows.
In every fond return I enjoy the weather. Taunt.
Long have I run my marathon dance around the
circle of bluebells held in woody clumps,
and then have strode down arrow straight lines of
daffodils to the brink, where stretches a field in
rich corn ears sometimes, but more often,
covered in the silver delicate dew of the spiders'
web. It is like heaven. Dearest wonderful soul.
The early morning brings forth rewards, my mind drinks
the oxygen laden air, and the stick in
my hand prods the earth as if I were majestic,
the owner of all of Nature's wealth. Inside I rejoice.
Report this comment
Comment by: hkemmett
05 February 2012 - 15:44
TIME PASSING
My teenage birthdays came and went.
On fun and games I was intent:
A quiz, some dancing, Postman's Knock,
But best of all, a party frock.
It seems that it was yesterday
With all my young friends down the way,
So now I'll jump up quick as light
And fix a date this very night.
But I can't find my miniskirt
And anyway my joints all hurt.
My sixieth has been and gone,
An MP Player, CD-ROM,
And mobile phone is what I got.
I'll have to learn to use that lot.
I'll go to night-school, adult lealrning
And study with the nightlight burning,
But not this week. I shall not rush
For I must rest, I need some hush.
The next decade will soon draw near.
The past, my young days, are so clear.
I feel like running, dancing still,
Though tired limbs now lack the will.
But when I dream about my youth
It had its drawbacks, that's the truth.
I had to do what I was told.
Blow that, I say, now I am old.
©
Report this comment