Rich returns

Two days ago the prompt was "return" and I half composed this poem on my way round a favourite local landmark: Uley Bury. I've written several poems about the place,  but there's always space for one more. 


Of all the local walks I've found and loved
The one to which my boots return the most
Sits just above my home.  
The taxing incline repays tenfold
Each panting effort to crest the hill 
To reach the level walk around the ancient fort
Fenced off for cattle grazing.

The sandy western track teases 
Giving glimpses through bare branched trees
Of Severn Estuary,  Welsh Black Mountains. 
It's southern edge widens the horizon
Towards the Cotswold hills:
Dursley nestled under Stinchcombe Hill, 
Uley folded into the foot of the Ewelme Valley. 

Northwards along the rocky ramparts
Raised high above the wooded valley slopes
Towards the once gated entrance - 
Where present day working parties
Do battle with encroaching ash, and elm -
My boots take me down, down, down
Back towards my home again. 


© Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Leave taking

I've been to two funerals recently. I suppose it's inevitable that their frequency will increase as I get older,  and my peer group ages alongside me.  It makes you consider your own mortality, and prompts a resolve to use the days left to you more wisely.  But somehow you never do, preferring to think there's still enough time left.   The death of an elderly uncle is easier to bear. It's possible to reflect on a long life, well lived,  To remember the fun you had when you were small, How he made you shriek until you were breathless,  To consider the grace of his faith, which eased his end.  The death of my sunny, fun-filled friend Is much harder to balance. We are all too aware She had too few years to enjoy her joyful take on life,  Will miss out on too many evenings full of laughter,  No longer guide her grandchildren into adulthood. Both deaths celebrated as a release from pain.  Both lives celebrated as lives lived well.  We carry their memories home with us,   To
Read more

Dont go to India

I wrote this after a toilet stop in the way from Jaipur to Varaneeshya.  Don't go to India  not if you worry about squatting over a hole in the ground, with no running water. not if you worry about hawkers thrusting their wares in your face, "300, 200, 100 only". not if you worry about children caked in street filth, tugging at your sleeve, your heart. not if you worry about rubbish, plastic bottles, bags, packaging, strewn across the streets. But if you can make peace with all that  you will find beauty wherever you look. ©  Copyright 2023. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved
Read more

Do you have a preference?

Whenever I'm asked 'which do you prefer?' I usually say 'I don't mind,  whichever is easier' - because I hate to cause extra work for anyone! But of course,  I do have preferences.  Today's poem is thanks to an idea from Elizabeth Boquet, who by the way is a great poet to follow (elizabethboquet.com). I prefer modern fiction to classical  I prefer cats who curl up on your lap I prefer the smell and taste of coffee I prefer it decaffeinated nowadays.   I prefer blues and greens,  turquoise and teal above all other colours I prefer men with blue eyes I prefer white flowers.  I prefer walking through woods, alone  or with the one I love I prefer the journey to the destination I prefer a slightly cloudy sky.   I prefer to Lindt chocolate to Cadbury's I prefer custard creams I prefer mince pies to Christmas pudding I prefer vegetarian to vegan. I prefer to avoid conversations about politics unless I know we all are lefties,  and are unlikely to fall out - I
Read more