Poetic society for all active poetry lovers

Month: October 2014

Chestnut childhood

Let me take you years ago

When sun could shine and wind could blow

When air was fresh and people lived

when fields were full and life was a gift


Once upon a time


Fairy tales

Frog was the Prince of Wales

Chestnuts – oh the great treasure

No time, no money, nothing to measure

such a pleasure!


Rain drops? No, diamonds

Brown stones? No, almonds

Meadow? Non, my realm

Branch? No, my buddy, it the helm!


And then the voice… which really cares

„It is raining, come upstairs,

No magic nuts, you’re not a Cinderella

It’s just some chestnuts and you need an umbrella“


Oh my mum, I can’t … if you knew

There’s not only one prince

There’s a QUEUE!


Mother Dear

Childhold Memories 008

There’s a lot I should have said to you when you were here, sweet Mother.
Given the chance I surely would have filled a book, cover to cover.
Today on your birthday I faithfully will go,
To lay flowers and to tell you how much I miss you so.

Kneeling gently, carefully tidying and brushing away leaves
All the while, I’m to you Mum, chatting endlessly.
Telling you, there isn’t a day that my thoughts don’t turn to you,
Remembering all the places we’d go on walks to.

Pictures of places in my heart I hold dear.
And although your gone now, I still feel you near.
For here in my heart you remain.
Until Dear Mother I see you again.

Breda Ware




Why do you stand weeping at my grave?

You have no right: as in life, you never gave me the time of day.
No call or message, that would have been nice!
Perhaps a chat or friendly advice.
Would that have been too much to pay?
Just to have acknowledge me for a day!

Why do you stand weeping at my grave?

You were oblivious to my pain: although I tried to explain.
Did I offend you in some way?
Or did you think ignoring me: was ok!
Why no attempt to meet with me?
Or a desire to speak to me?

Why do you stand weeping at my grave?

Was my leaving such a disgrace?
Did it contribute to a lose of face?

Why did you judge me so harshly?
It was not your place!

I loved you dearly: but things were said.
My heart has always ruled my head!

Why do you stand weeping at my grave?

Sadly I see no sorrow in your eyes.
It’s too late to explain or apologise.
Too late to put ills to right:  I’ve passed through the light.
If there’s the remotest thought for me: with respect walk away.

Don’t stand weeping at my grave.


Woken by shafts of light through curtains barely drawn, hours earlier waiting impatiently for the dawn. Hurriedly dressing, combing hair….: tumbling down the stairs. Leaving the house quiet as a Church Mouse.

Crossing the fields, the heavy dew making my boots squeak. Silhouettes of trees dotted along hedgerows, leaves of red, orange and golden brown. Breath warm on the cold morning air, labouring on….nearly there.

You raise your head as I approach, the early morning sun bathing you in its warm amber glow. Gently running my hands along familiar curves, your coat soft and sleek as silk, hair shining fiery red, copper brown.

Autumn leaves tramped as we walk along the lane, enjoying each other’s company….: alone once again. Through the village inhabitants stare….: at you….: my beautiful Chestnut Mare.


The Girl With Chestnut Hair

The Girl With Chestnut Hair

Following her every step, watching carefully her moves
as she slowly walks, surrounded by autumnally coloured
trees – you cannot stop admiring the curves…

…of the girl with chestnut hair.

Getting closer to her body, almost touching her soft skin.
Is she cold or warm? You have already got burned. Once.
Giving yourself another chance might seem to be a sin.

Taking a deep breath, you’re the only people in the park.
She stops. Turns. Her eyes are nothing but dark.
Her face – so pale – gives you a warm smile. Is she real?
Yes, I am. It’s your moment now. Ideal.

Chestnut Memories

Burst of colours, falling leaves and chestnuts

Bringing pensive mood and memories long forgotten

An old black and white photograph of an elderly lady

Holding an infant in her arms, the only memory of grandma

Seeing a chestnut brings this photograph to my mind

More memories come – running around and wildly

Kicking leaves into the air and looking for chestnuts

Gathering full bags of them to take home to play with

Later at home warmed by hot tea and enjoying sweets

Making a zoo full of chestnut animals – giraffe, lion, zebra…

On and on goes the list, even new species coming to life

Happily playing with them, creativity unleashed

Lost in the world childlike imagination where

Everything is possible even the most crazy dreams

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