Saturday, August 15, 2020


14th August 2020

Well, I got just a tad bored with regaling you, my lovely readers' with tales of our adventures in Cornwall, wonderful though it was. 
So today I'm going to give you a poem. This piece was  shortlisted for a competition a few years ago and I haven't looked at it since.
Hopefully, I'll read it at the London Writer's Salon Open Mic tonight, but for now it's for you:


There you sit,


 between Rumi and Wittgenstein 

- among others,

your beauty esteemed, cherished  

 my precious jewel.

I lift you down from the shelf,

 reverently, unhurriedly,

my fingers,

Caress your soft leather cover

 Age Worn, flaky,

your Tattered spine

Faded over time,

Steadily trace gold leaf letters.

Your pages- flimsy, delicate

Reveal your antiquity

An old traveller,

A long life,

One hundred and forty four years.

You came to me in 1982.

Written inside, in black ink

With cursive style,

“Mary Louisa Legg,

 with best wishes from N.S.H,

 Christmas 1892”

One instant recorded, 

one person’s history

I love that!

Lent, loved, loaned again

How many homes

 have you graced?

How many absorbed 

your wise words?

I put you to my lips 

 Breathe in your lovers,

Warm companionship

Contented moments


 in Comfortable chairs

I remember cosy evenings

Snuggled under blankets

 with teenage daughters,

Reading, for maybe

 the fifth time,

 the May Queen

a family favourite still.

You continue to be, for me

A treat for my spirit



6th August

20th July  - Monday

Today, to get to Gebe Beach we had to go through the beautiful village of Mawnan Smith. 


  1. The best poetry never stops speaking to us.

  2. Had to study Tennyson at school.

    God bless.

    1. Did you indeed Victor.
      I didn't and maybe it's just as well because I came upon him later and was able to enjoy him with my children without having been put off.
      God bless, as always. 😊🙏🙏🙏


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