Ashdown forest

Ancient tranquil heathland
Bathed in dappled light
Dark farrows start to change
As winter turns to spring
Purple heather grows in clumps
Yellow gauze dazzling in sunlight
Covering patches over the forest
In the heart of the high Weald
Lies a forest of natural beauty
Small rabbits dart around bracken
Deers graze camouflaged by trees
This home of Winnie the Pooh
Enchanted forest to explore
With pathways stretching
Across hills and downs
This Ashdown forest
Such a privilege to enjoy

Scrambled

How to make scrambled eggs

This is what i do

Take a non stick pan

And place it on the hob

Switch it on gently

Give it time to warm.

Take and egg and crack it

In a mug of course

Ground some pepper coarsely

Then beat it very hard

Beat it quickly make some bubbles

Beat it once again.

Slowly pour the egg

Into the warming pan.

Stir it slowly very gently

Move it round and round

Watch it turn from liquid

Into pale yellow forms

Keep it moving in the pan

Please don’t let it stick

Within a couple of minutes

The liquids changed its form

Its lovely scrambled egg

Just waiting to be eaten

Take it off the heat

Tip the egg into a bowl

Ready to eat with relish

Or just plain scrambled egg

Enjoy, indulge and remember

This is how i like my eggs.

Childhood morning

Morning has started

I listen from my bed

Birds chirping loudly

The electricity wakes

The shipping forecast

Talks from the bathroom

The kettle whistles

The shower hums

Familiar voices drift upwards

The clock strikes,

with 7 cuckoo chirps

the washing machine whirs

its on a top speed

and in just a moment

A voice will shout

Are you up yet?

As if you could sleep

through the electricity din

Of the house waking up

Once again.

Enveloping

Day 14 of Napowrimo

 

My words hang like over me like a veil

Fine mist engulfs me like a shroud

Dappled light reminds me of paradise

I want to speak but there’s a thick veil

There is no light just a heavy shroud

Echoes of words catch my breath

Beautiful sounds take me to paradise

Slowly exhaling my thoughts in my breath.

Still life

Day 12 of Napowrimo and the prompt was to use the index or contents of a book. So I chose Still Life by Richard Cobb, his sketches from a Tunbridge Wells Childhood.

As I approach in 1

I wonder about the locations in 22.

I can see the Sussex view in 28

Little Mount Sion in 34

I remember Grove Hill 37,

Where My Mother’s House lay 48.

Down the road were two people

i pluck from my memory.

The Black widow 56 and

Dr Rankling at 67.

At the bottom of the hill

still there today the church

King Charles the Martyr 71.

and the outside world 79,

from the Linbury-Buses 84

I looked through the doors and windows 93

The war memorial 106 was on my left

and i imagined my childhood journey,

in my pocket a secret map 124,

which chartered my holiday

a trip to the rocks, a ride on my bike

and ending with tea at Mr Evan’s 147

after all its still life.

 

 

Bookshelf

Trying to be brave with my reading matter
Can I find the right book?
I check the shelves
Is it really too much to ask?
I pull another down
Britons motoring atlas 2000
I little bit out of date.
The illustrated guitar
If I wanted to learn
Or The ultimate golf bible
Is that where the world begun?
It seems to be an impossible task
To find a new book to read
So I plump for the one on the end of the shelf
The lives and loves of a he devil
What can I say?
I give up!

So I took a chance on my own bookshelf
What delights could I find to read
Ten little Indians, laughing gas
All been read to death
Then to an old favourite
Pride and prejudice I humbly put them away
And chose instead a slice of organic life
To take with me to bed