Totton U3A Poets Corner

Info from Myra

2011-11-18T03:29:00.000-08:00

1) Spectacles will be taken abroad (Africa?) next month so donations are best given before the end of November.
2) The book launch includes the work of Janet Langford her generous husband Allan gave us a drawing as top prize in our poetry comp on Friday the evening went well and we are planning a follow up in April.
3) Our ZUMBA classes (weekly) at WEST TOTTON COMMUNITY CENTER start next THURSDAY morning from 11.30-12.30 £4.40 a session. Normally in the big hall but first week in the squash court! Wear easy clothes and soft shoes.
The class will be led by Rachel Metcalfe with 13 yrs' experience in aerobics,spinning etc and is also a perso0nl trainer. She assures me that she will take the group at OUR own pace.
Please bring any friends along who would like to give it a go at Totton Rec's
"ZUMBATHON"
Phone me for further details 8086 9053
Myra M.

2011-11-18T02:53:00.000-08:00

Poetry report

2011-10-02T05:03:00.000-07:00

Met at Myra's on Friday Sept 23rd for the subject of Harvest. Old loved poems and newly written ones gave much pleasure to we three who made it to the meeting. As always, fresh insights are brought to well known words by another reading them. Sometimes singing them too!
Please note some of our group will be performing at Hanger Farm next month so here are the details:-
The unforgettable date 11.11.11 is a Friday Time 7.30 till 10pm. Hanger Farm will be set out 'cabaret style' with tables and chairs. Drinks hot or alcoholic, from the bar next door/
A cast of dozens (published authors and amateurs) will perform EAT OUR WORDS a poetic menu of music and verse.
We intend a relaxed mixture of serious work with lots of humour and wit and some lyrical stuff to amuse, move and delight you.
Music comes from Three's Company and Kitchen Sync two local groups who sing unaccompanied.
All performers are unpaid. Tickets are available at £4 each from Hanger Farm Box office: Ring and reserve on 8066 7683.
This cash is to cover the hire of this beautiful little theatre.
Please tell your friends and come along for a treat yourself, if you are free!
Myra

Poetry report for May & June

2011-07-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

May 27th was a fine day but we were lashed by wind and rain, hurricanes, here and abroad, and generally explored the powerful subject of storm in song and speech.

Last month's "seam" was even richer, being all aspects of womankind. Poets and lyricists have written about women's wisdom, mystery, strength and self sacrifice in such quantity that we had to include more irreverent poems poking fun or being downright vicious!
The morning was most entertaining but we felt we only scratched the surface, so will revisit the subject later.
Next month's theme will be on the board at U3A meeting. We will meet at Myra's 10 till 12 noon.
Myra

April Report

2011-05-05T08:59:00.000-07:00

Our group brought forward the meeting to Thursday 21st to accommodate Good Friday and a certain royal shindig.
The subject itself included monarchy and royalty, examples of which proved quite tricky to find. Gilbert and Sullivan's "Regular, regular queen" made us laugh and others pause for thought,e.g. Good Queen Bess, Shakespeare's Cleopatra and some home grown comments on 20th century majesties.
Several of us had found the gem "The king asked the queen and the queen asked the dairy maid etc".My overall favourite with such gentle micky taking.....
One member suggested choosing a list of future subjects, so that we can select in advance, when we are reading poems for pleasure.
Friday May 27th we meet here at 6 Shepherds Hey Road for: Weather, focussing on storms of all kinds
Drinks and bickies at 10am close at noon.
June: Woman
Aug: Holidays real or fictional
Sept: Harvest
Oct: Shopping
Nov: The poor
Dec: Winter
Actual dates T.B.A and a very free interpretation of themes,please.
Finally, do try Hanger Farm Poets' Corner on the second Tuesday of each month except August. We read favourites by professional wordsmiths or offer our own efforts fro approval (reception hasn't been unkind yet). 7.30 till 9.30pm £2 each
Myra

Poetry Report

2011-04-14T06:41:00.000-07:00

Here's Phyll Barretts's report from last months meeting.

Hi There
If there are any would be poets or just someone who loves poetry, come and join our small group on THURSDAY April 21st (Usually we meet last Friday in the month). Bring along your long forgotten poems or come without and just listen; you might be pleasantly surprised!
Coffee and biscuits served from 10am. Session till 12 noon.
Venue: The Barrett Residence, 342 Woodlands Road. Tel: 80292824
Joan

November meeting

2010-11-28T05:49:00.000-08:00

A "Gang of four" met at Phyll and Richards on Friday Nov 26th for an early bash at Christmas poems. Two medieval carols were included for their moving simplicity.
Wonderful old favourites and most interesting new ones gave two hours of delight. The ancient story bears retelling whether you are a believer or not. Thanks to all!
Next month we are back at Myra's on Friday Jan 28th 10 till 12am. Please bring poems about New Years resolutions, plus any other precious ones you'd like to share.
If poetry really interests you, why not come along to Hanger Farm Group? We meet monthly on the second Tuesday evening starting February 8th £2 a session, 7.30 till 9.30pm.
You can bring your own work or published poems to read to a mixed, friendly group including June Green, Mike Adams, Pam Cahill and yours truly. It is not a workshop, you can just listen if you prefer. Some talented young local writers come too, to show us their work.
Feel Welcome
Myra M

Group Report May

2010-05-31T02:59:00.000-07:00

The last sunny Friday in May, we met to sample poems on friendship and other relationships that don't involve a ring ot a bed!
Once again the range was extensive; from children's playtime to fun adult regret for failing parents; the warmth of lifelong 'mates' to servant/slave bitterness against their master; also appreciation of pet companionship was included with many other variations on the theme.
So many ways in which we are important to each other, expressed in verse.
Each of us brings and reads what appeals to them. That way we are introduced to lots we hadn't heard before. Books are shared and lent. Copies of favourites are given to keep.
Next month, we meet at Phyll's Friday June 25th, when the theme for the poems or song lyrics is PROTEST
That's a subject we shall have to overcome.....
Myra M 80869053

February Meeting

2010-03-02T01:22:00.000-08:00

A small group enjoyed a very interesting and varied selection of poems on Love!.
Familar poems and unknown verses.
New members very welcome. Our next meeting will be at
Myra Metcalfe's
6 Shepherds Hey Road
Calmore
Tel: 02380869503

Poetry Report

2009-11-12T05:03:00.000-08:00

Each month I'm amazed and delighted by the variety of poems we each bring to the session.
Some war poems may appear cliched at first but well read and sincerely presented they all speak movingly of the on-going horrors of war.
This month, at Myra's we'll consider poems on aspects of winter.
Do ring me if you want to give us a try
Myra 80869053

Aspects of Autumn

2009-10-14T08:08:00.000-07:00

Meeting Friday September 25th 2009

A new lady joined us for "Aspects of Autumn".
We covered (18 - (20 with plenty of lively discussion and an amicable difference of views.
Each member brings their own choice or dips into the many books laid out for them to try. Favourites are copied for taking home and books swapped.
Consequently, we are learning from each other and broadening our knowledge each month.
Next meeting will be at Phyll & Richards, 342 Woodlands Road, on Friday October 30th 10-12noon. The sombre subject is WAR

September

2009-09-09T10:54:00.000-07:00

A small group of us met on Friday 28th August. Our choice of topic was our favourite poem. Not surprisingly one was not enough and looking for them took us back to our schooldays. (Along time ago)
It was a very enjoyable meeting we spanned the years from Shakespeare to Ted Hughes.

Next meeting

Friday 25th September at 10 am
.
New members welcome!
At Myra's 6 Shepherds Hey Rd
for "Aspects of Autumn.

Report from U3A Poetry Group July 24th 09

2009-08-12T09:25:00.000-07:00

"Now that I'm older,
I bless the new friends I've found
In our U3A"

A larger group that usual, gathered round Myras' table to swap poems about "Trees and Water" Julys' subjects.
Popular with poets, ancient and modern there were many and varied pieces about trees from oaks to aspens and all aspects of water, from rain drops to rainbows, with lakes rivers and seas in between.
Some members have already tried composing their own poems they may have a go at writing Haikus (see my first effort. heading this report")
But beware as Roger McGough says:- "(Only trouble with Japanese haiku is that you write one, and then only seventeen syllables later you want to write another"!!!
Next meeting on FRIDAY AUG 28th 10-12noon at Phyll and Richards, 342 Woodlands Rd.
Bring your favourites on ANY subject please.
If you fancy trying us, kindly ring Myra first on 80869053
Thank you.

February Meeting 2009

2009-02-28T06:59:00.000-08:00

Once again a very varied and interesting meeting concerning spring. Open to anyone who thinks they might enjoy reading and discussing poems and poets varying from Shakespeare to Pam Ayres.
Next meeting at Myra's 6 Shepherds Hey Rd Friday 3rd April 10.00am

January meeting

2009-02-03T11:46:00.000-08:00

We three met again,
No snow yet, not even rain . . .
We each brought and read a wide variety of comic verse, from Ogden Nash to Pam Ayers, Spike Milligan, Roger McGough and Brian Patten, among others.
To do them justice , we tried different accents , Scottish, '' Northern'', Cockney and Mummerset.This much increased the humour, so we laughed a LOT !
Why don't you bring YOUR favourites next time ? We'll read'em , if you're shy.
Next session is Friday, Feb 27th, 10 till 12 noon.
at Phyl and Richard's , 342 Woodlands rd, Woodlands village.

Poems on a theme of spring please , if you can.
thankyou, Myra Metcalfe , 80869053

Poetry Group Report for November 28th

2008-12-10T08:50:00.000-08:00

Only two met at Myra's but Phyl had sent an interesting anthology of prose and poems about Christmas. Myra had photocopied a whole library bookful and Pam brought excelleant prose samples.
A most enjoyable morning A pity more people weren't there to share the eclectic mixture. We do hope other U3A members will come to see if our poetry appreciation is "Their thing" too. So far we've had quality but not enough quantity!
Next meeting Friday Jan 30th 10-12 at Myra's (6 Shepherds Hey Rd, Calmore) 8086 9053

31st October

2008-11-02T09:16:00.000-08:00

A small but enthusiastic group met to read and discuss poems about "war".
The varied selection provided much reaction and discussion, some sadness mixed with anger and amusement.More members would be very welcome bringing their own choice of poems.The next meeting is on "Christmas Poetry", 10am on Friday 5th December at Myra Metcalfe's house, 6 Shephers Hey Close.

Meeting – July 25th

2008-08-14T07:28:00.000-07:00

We met at Myra’s House – just a small group of us. The subject for this month was Animals and there were some quite amusing and some sad. Myra read a very moving poem by Thomas Hardy about a cattle auction and Pam followed with a poem by Felix Dennis called “The Ministry Cull”. Our next meeting is on the 29th August 10:00 to 12:00, at Phyllis Barrett’s house

An old dog is the best dog,
An old dog is the best dog,
A dog with rheumy eyes;
An old dog is the best dog
A dog grown sad and wise,
Not one who snaps at bubbles,
Nor one who barks at nowt,
A dog who knows your troubles,
A dog to see you out.

An old bitch is the best bitch,
Not pups to fetch your sticks;
An old bitch is the best bitch,
Not one to teach new tricks,
Not one who's up and leaping,
But one whose coat is grey,
Leg's twitching while she's sleeping
In dreams of yesterday.

Poetry Group

2008-07-09T02:55:00.000-07:00

Just "we three" met again at Phyll's to discuss potential lady laureates e.g. Carol Ann Dufty and Gillian Clarke. If attitudes had been more enlightened in the past, other female writers might have achieved the distinction. Perhaps Christina Rosetti, Mary Coleridge, Emily Bronte, Edith Sitwell and Vita Sackville West whose poems were gems to read and listen to.
Do join our freindly group!
My home nest time. Phone Myra
Next meeting Friday July 25th 10 to 12noon

May meeting

2008-06-05T04:25:00.000-07:00

A small group had a very entertaining meeting with readings from a diverse selection of poets ranging from Ted Hughes Laurie Lee, Shakespeare, Christine Rossetti and many others. Our next meeting will focus on woman poets, with thoughts of choosing our own "Poet Laureate!"
New members would be very welcome.
Next meeting at Phyl Barrett's 80 292 824 342 Woodlands Rd
27th June at 10am

After Death
Christina Rossetti

The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept
And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may
Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay,
Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.
He leaned above me, thinking that I slept
And could not hear him; but I heard him say:
"Poor child, poor child:" and as he turned away
Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept.
He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold
That hid my face, or take my hand in his,
Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head:
He did not love me living; but once dead
He pitied me; and very sweet it is
To know he still is warm though I am cold.

April Meeting

2008-05-12T23:56:00.000-07:00

A reduced group met on Phyllis Barrett’s house on Monday 28th April. The theme this week was LOVE in all it’s forms. Myra read some explicit poems by John Donne. “Going to Bed” and “The Flea”, which made us all smile. Phyllis read her own poem “Retirement Song”, which I for one could relate to. Myra said she would like to read it at the Wordfest at Hanger farm on Saturday 3rd May. Poems by John Betjeman, Thomas Hardy and Wiliam Butler Yeats were also read. Our next meeting is at Myra’s house on Friday 30th May 10:00 – 12:00

ELEGY XX.
TO HIS MISTRESS GOING TO BED.
by John Donne

COME, madam, come, all rest my powers defy ;
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopp'd there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with your wiry coronet, and show
The hairy diadems which on you do grow.
Off with your hose and shoes ; then softly tread
In this love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
Revealed to men ; thou, angel, bring'st with thee
A heaven-like Mahomet's paradise ; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite ;
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O, my America, my Newfoundland,
My kingdom, safest when with one man mann'd,
My mine of precious stones, my empery ;
How am I blest in thus discovering thee !
To enter in these bonds, is to be free ;
Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.
Full nakedness ! All joys are due to thee ;
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's ball cast in men's views ;
That, when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul might court that, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus array'd.
Themselves are only mystic books, which we
—Whom their imputed grace will dignify—
Must see reveal'd. Then, since that I may know,
As liberally as to thy midwife show
Thyself ; cast all, yea, this white linen hence ;
There is no penance due to innocence :
To teach thee, I am naked first ; why then,
What needst thou have more covering than a man?

March Meeting

2008-04-08T04:45:00.000-07:00

Report on the second meeting of the U3A poetry group.

Our second meeting was a "ladies only" but again we covered a wide range of poetry.
Two members now offered their own work too.
Phyllis brought leaflets about the Great Poems which we borrowed to read. Diane gave a book on an Australian poet and Pam read Andrew Motron’s latest commission. Myra had notes about the Poet Laureate. She suggested an occasional 50p donation towards photocopying, should we need it.
We decided to bring poems on the theme of love for our next meeting.
This will take place at Phyllis Barrett’s 342 Woodlands Rd.
PLEASE NOTE A CHANGE OF DAY to avoid the U3A walking holiday.
So will meet on Monday 28th April 10 to 12.
See you there?

The inaugural meeting of U3A poetry group

2008-03-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

The inaugural meeting of U3A poetry group was held at Myra’s from 10 am till noon on February 29 th Four ladies and one brave man (note date) offered their personal choice of poems to the rest, to entertain, move or for them to think further about.During tea breaks, possible themes were suggested for future meetings which led to a query about poet laureates / poets’ laureate? e.g. how many? since when/ etc.Something to research for the next meeting? On Friday march 28. Please contact Myra 8086 9053

AT CHERITON – OH – CHERITON!

2007-11-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

Misty morning,
Early October,
Lets us know
Summer’s over.
Gilds the hills
With golden haze,
Promise still
Of Autumn days.

So it was,
So it glowed,
As we took
The rolling road
To Cheriton

‘Till we came
To the Flower Pots Inn.
There a brewery
Once had been,
In days long gone.

So many blooms,
Massed and mounded,
Quaint old building
Quite surrounded.
And an orchard
Lay behind.
Many an apple
Still to find.

Through the village,
Comfortable scene,
Red brick houses,
Nicely nestling,
Round the well-kept
Village green.

Beside it ran
A clear chalk stream,
Waving weeds,
Crystal, clean.
Flash of fish,
An extra treat.
Trout perhaps?
The size to eat!

On each bridge
Iron signs,
Warning, from
Former times,
Heavy traffic
Should not cross.
We walked lightly,
Took a path,
Shade with moss,
By a fine house
From the past.

Along the track
Through hedges thin,
We glimpsed the fields
And hills between.

‘Till we come
To a massive beech,
High in its boughs
A sort of tree house.
Wood bars ladder,
Too steep for us,
Kept the den
Out of reach.

After pondering,
Builder? Owner?
Once again
We set off.
Open country,
Staring sunflowers,
Blooming “midi”,
In mid-Hampshire.
Anybody seen Van Gogh?

In the ditch,
Totter’s treasure.
Dumped detritus,
New and old.
Pots and buckets,
Jars and bottles.
Which ones might be
Antique “gold”?

Down from the hill
To river and mill.
Wild cress grew,
Abundant and free.
Some had been cut,
[Would we could too]
Take it home
For our tea!

Homely cottage,
Pretty as a picture,
In its tiles
And warm brick walls,
A dozen colours
Sure to please.
Wooden hives
Set in the pasture,
Waiting for
Late summer’s bees.

Back through fields
To the inn.
Waiting too,
Our tardy friends.
Welcome smiles,
Lunch within.
So at last,
Our lovely walk ends.

Poetry at Hanger Farm

2007-10-11T10:49:00.000-07:00

Poets in the Barn
An open mic for poets and wordsmiths
led by Hanger Farms Poets' Group
Thursday 15th Nov
Please come and support us reading
our poems - sitting at tables for a
relaxing evening.
Tickets £3
Free for readers and performers
Contact MYRA 02380869053

ACROSS THE POND, NEAR BATH!

2007-08-28T05:31:00.000-07:00

ACROSS THE POND, NEAR BATH!

I wanted a window of sunshine
And everyone to be on time;
The train to be clean and efficient
[I’d reckoned without the Alphaline!]
The taxis to bring us and fetch us,
Like we’d arranged on the ‘phone;
The guides to be good,
Explain what they should;
The welcome to be warm;
The restaurant food to be tasty;
Our tour round the house
To be leisured, not hasty;
The shops to be full
Of quite cheap souvenirs;
The day to be mainly smiles, no tears;
The battle, to excite and please,
Delight us with its expertise;
Just these simple hopes were mine . . .
Most were fulfilled [save the Alphaline],
And we even had a bit of sunshine!

Most of us came in our distant youth.
The house was old, museum new.
So we had some idea what to expect.
Familiar pleasures, surprises too.

Whole, entire rooms transported,
Lacking only some life within.
Our guides, their details, all reported.
We imagined them with their people in.

Shawled and bonneted, spinning, sewing,
In hides and fur hats, chopping, sawing.
Bears to shoot, babies to bear,
Powder kept dry, by the fire.
Rugs to weave, truckle beds.
Wigs to wear on shaven heads.

In such a hard life, their spirit showed.
Fine things of wood, polished, glowed.
Cloaks and quilts, fashioned with skill.
Billions of stitches! Designs that thrill
Those of us who recognise
The artistry before our eyes.

Ethnic artefacts, also revealed
In clay pot or beaded work, the soul concealed.
The primitive art of artisan or slave,
To simple objects, humanity gave.
The Amish carriage, the mighty wagon
Pulled by snorting horses or oxen.

And . . .
Oh, those dresses, of the Dollar Princesses!
The cost of each could no doubt feed
A homestead family’s every need.
Edwardian overkill, extravagant elegance.
Adorning youthful American beauties,
One of them the mother of Churchill.
Enticing English aristocracy
With their sartorial over-indulgence.
Flashing their dollar bills
To buy their acceptance.

Such flaunting of much wealth
During the dire Depression.
Small wonder “The Grapes of Wrath” was written.

For lovers of cartography,
A map collection, vast, sublime.
Quite comprehensive and unique.
We only saw a small part of it.
Maybe soon, they’ll publish all
Or show it to the world, on line.

Now on the terrace lawn
The afternoon re-enactment.
Loud bangs and dressing up,
Educational entertainment!

Against the lovely valley backdrop,
Two hawks circling in the sky,
Commenced the battle, as predicted,
On the dot, at half-past three.

‘Twixt our redcoats, and colonials,
Numbering only ten plus ten.
Against the French, Marines, Canadians,
There were hordes and hordes of them!
[Well, forty]
In the [quite hot] afternoon sun.

Each had Indians to aid their fight,
Red masked and feathered, gave us a fright.
Behind the bushes, in the shade,
Our Colonel’s daughter, hid with her maid.

Muskets cracked, a firework smell.
The battlefield, a veritable hell!
Redcoat tactics, alas inferior,
Had to yield to forces superior.
And the “gallant” French our lady gave
To a brutal Indian brave,
Who clubbed to death her little maid!

Battle over, lost and won.
We booed and cheered them,
Each in their turn,
And clapped them all,
In the [quite hot] afternoon sun.

In the hills near to Bath,
There’s Aladdin’s cave,
Disguised as a Georgian mansion fine.
Fabulous treasures therein displayed.
See it soon! Make the time!
28th JULY 2007

WINCHESTER WALK

2007-08-28T05:29:00.000-07:00

Slipping seaward,
Limpid water.
Long weeds streaming
Over chalky shallows.
Dabchicks dive,
While daredevil swifts,
Aerial acrobats,
Crazily winging
In wide arcs swinging,
Dip to the river and lift.
But we see no swallows
As we follow the shady path
Beside the sliding water.

At last and until
We reach the gate
To wend our way up
St Catherine’s Hill.

All over the blackthorn
Along the rutted track,
Sloes are showing
Fat and dull, blue-black.

Soon a footbridge
Over the motorway
Scene of battles bitter
To save a landscape.

[Protestors lived
Up in the trees
Even Middle England
Was ill at ease.]
Because of the rape
Of Twyford Down.

They tore through the chalk
Now traffic tears through.
[It assaults our ears too.]
Tearing, jarring, snarling sound,
In these sunny fields around.

So many objections to no avail.
Commonsense did not prevail.
Brave protesters at last went home,
But the instigators of that crime
Had their names, for all time,
Carried on a single, standing stone.

We pause to read,
Then stand amazed
That someone with power
Sowed the seed.
Thousands on thousands
Of English wild flower,
Blossoming now,
A mille fleur tapestry,
Colourful as millefiori!

In stark contrast
The golf course grass
Is uniformly green,
Close shaven.

We cross and halt
To drink beneath
A spreading beech,
Our shady haven!
Sharing our bottles
Each with each.

Our guide encourages
Up the next climb.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,
You’ll be fine!”
But it’s HOT
And this time, for us,
It’s stony, long
And hard as it looks!

Yet butterflies thrill us
With their beauty,
As we view again
The ancient city,
Where once ruled
Our cruel Norman King.

Retracing steps, a shaded track
At first, on our way back.
Then mushrooms, beckoning!
“Dinner plates” in the grass
Tempt us to pick as we pass.
Reluctant now to climb
And gather them,
So tell ourselves,
“Could be maggots in them.”

And an apple tree holds early bounty,
So we go scrumping fruit a-plenty.

Ducks are a-dabbling in the river,
A moorhen’s chick cheeps to its mother,
Who brings another twig for her nest,
Riding the ripples on weedy water.

Aargh! What’s this?
A mad, wet sheepdog pushes past,
Jumps into the stream, so fast!
Bites the splashes,
Paddles and crashes,
In and out and BARKS!
‘Till finally she THOROUGHLY shakes
Over her owner as he waits
Where our cars are parked.

Thus grateful for our good walk done,
We thank our guide and make our way home.
1st AUGUST 2007

Myra's 2 poems

2007-07-31T04:53:00.000-07:00

AN OLD TIME OUTING

Wasn’t it great the day that we went
To ride the tram from Seaton?
Hours in the coach were time well spent
To go by tram to Colyton.

Quaint machine of an earlier era,
Fancy rails and gleaming paint,
One reserved for our mixed party,
“All aboard” with no complaint.

Some inside, most on top,
Outside in the wind and sun,
Narrow spiral stair to climb up,
Narrow seats. Wait for the fun!

Driver shouts us his instructions.
Pantograph is hooked in place.
Then he pulls the driver’s handle.
Off we go at gentle pace.

Tight curves twisting, we turn eastward.
Bright canoes on the River Axe.
Signal halts us for some minutes,
Another tram is on the tracks.

Time to watch the lush, green meadows.
Happy rabbits in the grass.
Those long sleek ones must be hares,
Unconcerned as we glide past.

Now behind a bush, we spot him,
Large red fox lies at his ease!
Lambs are gambolling, walkers rambling.
Birdsong fills the alder trees.

Out on mudbanks, others feeding.
A cormorant spreads wide his wings.
Handsome geese and three ducks flying!
A wealth of such exciting things.

Finally we get to Colyton.
Drop our coins into the well.
Admire the pretty, care-for station.
Welcoming café, tasty smells.

Browse a while to do our shopping.
Sit a while to sup our tea.
Climb back on, returning journey,
Rattling slowly, down to the sea.

Gorgeous hillsides, rippling river,
Green reeds show above the tide.
Tram of twitchers waits sedately.
Our tram hoots as we pass alongside.

Cattle grazing, sheep are lazing.
Final drama, just in time,
A heron rises from the pasture,
Flies before us, along the line!

Thank you all at Seaton Tramway
For two hours of great delight.
We’ll tell friends, “it was electric!”
Magic experience, we won’t forget.

GOING TO THE GLOBE

Steaming up the motorway.
Cars below engulfed in spray.
Couched in our coach,
We warily watched
July rain drowning
Field and carriageway.

At last the theatre,
Quaint and unworldly,
Welcomed us warmly
For our tour and play.
About the Jew.
The very place,
We already knew,
Was reborn and rebuilt
Because of the dream
Of one of his race.

And the rain, rain, rain
Came down, down, down
And washed right through
The lift shaft!
So we were told
To walk back round
And wait ‘till
It had halted.

Our guide was great.
Her talk explained
With humour
And with patience.
We looked
And marvelled
At Globe, new again,
And revelled
In its presence.

The sun returned
To brighten our day;
We sat by the Thames
To wait for the play.
Ate our picnic
Beneath blue sky,
Watching the world
And his wife go by.

At last it was time.
Hard seats were found
Within the wooden ‘O’.
A loud bell rang,
Actors began
A performance full of gusto!

His words sprang to life,
Spoken with fervour.
Their meaning made clear
By faces and gesture.

The Bard always gives
Blank verse to treasure.
Pathos and comedy,
Mixed for good measure.

Calm or athletic,
The players in role,
Could move or delight us,
Within their control.

Words wove their magic.
Emotion ran high.
When “revels were ended”
Our applause rose –
To the open sky!

Crawling out of London,
Toiling down the motorway
Nose to tail, we struggled
On the journey
Homeward.

Estimated two hours,
Stretched to over double.
Driver battled patiently
Among countless commuters.
Making way painfully,
All trapped inexorably
In humming, roaring sound.

And the extra problem,
Thousands upon thousands;
Desperate holidaymakers
Hapless, helpless, hopeless,
Trying to move southward,
Westward, just awayward!
Inching slowly onward,
Outward bound.