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Travels with my Sketchbook
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About
Sketchbooks
Blogs
Poetry
Travels with my Sketchbook
Home
About
Sketchbooks
Blogs
Poetry
More
Home
About
Sketchbooks
Blogs
Poetry
Poetry
Malvern Hills
I walk o'er yonder hills to see a counterpane of bush and tree.
Burn't umber, green, deep ultramarine, a painter's palette of scenery.
The Malvern Hills in all their splendour, Autumn foliage clothed in gold.
Ochre, purple, deep magenta, Elgar's country manifold.
When Malvern Hills display their pomp, and circumstance makes stay a must.
Then time stands still awhile to romp and roam the heather, gorse and tufts.
When pilgrims reach the British camp, atop the hills in Malvern green.
Then shall they rest before they tramp the trodden path, the hedge between.
As strains of Elgar fade away, we reach the parting of our way,
and hope the time will soon come when, we see those gentle hills again.
Old Colchester Town
When Emperor Claudius came around Camelodunum was a Roman town.
He built his temple on the hill, and Colchester Castle stands there still.
oooOooo
When Old King Coel built Colchester's wall, and daughter Helena, most holy of all,
founded hospice and chapel where people might rest, Old Colchester's legends were put to the test.
oooOooo
When Cromwell's men opposed the Crown, then Fairfax' men besieged the town,
and the Roman Wall came tumbling down Old Colchester was doomed.
oooOooo
But a Roundhead wife would save the day and the Roman Wall along the way.
Honeywood's order was changed, they say, and Old Colchester's wall was saved.
oooOooo
St. Mary's Tower was a sniper's lair, and his gun was more than the Roundheads could bear,
But their canon blew Humpty to Heaven knows where, and the Nursery Rhyme legend was born.
oooOooo
Now a garrison town of great renown, with heroes amongst its ranks.
And the theatres of war in which they serve both town and country give thanks.
Charleston
A lonely farmhouse on the A27 holds a closet of secrets from a time long ago.
The lives of those people who made it their Charleston, would also make history, but they would not know.
Early last century some social reformers together gave birth to the Bloomsbury Set.
Those meetings in London and later in Sussex, would make artists and writers more notable yet.
Duncan, Vanessa, Lytton Strachey, Clive Bell, tried to alter a world that was going to hell.
Pacifists, socialists, artists and scribes, living and loving, enjoying their lives.
Ode to a Grecian Ern
Ernest Stavros known as Ern, came from Greece with pounds to burn.
He bought for forty five pounds down, a greasy spoon in Kentish Town.
Ern's next investment didn't click, a Poofter's Bar in 'ackney Wick.
He moved the Bar to Charing Cross, and made a profit from a loss.
Flushed with success and confidence, Ern made the move to song and dance.
A disco in a Railway shed, in rather snooty Maidenhead,
became a Ravers' paradise, which Ern sold for a handsome price.
Ill gotten gains were used again to buy himself an aeroplane,
with which he and his Grecian band would launch the Easy Virtue brand.
The brand expanded and in time the Stansted upstart made the climb
from nothing to a leading brand, with airline slots throughout the land.
When BA's airline Go went slow, Ern's Easy Virtue swallowed Go.
His hidden talents now discovered, indigestion soon recovered.
Appetite left undiminished, and ambitions left unfinished,
Ern's about to gobble Gatwick, Easy Virtue's final hat-trick.
The Painting Class
There's a painting class on Wednesdays at the Stanway Village Hall.
At one o'clock precisely, we meet there one and all.
They're mostly well bred ladies with a penchant for the arts,
and a token male contingent that makes up their counterparts.
oooOooo
When Jenny rings her little bell it's time to pay attention,
She often tells us someone's ill, they'll always get a mention.
She may give us a demo or a still life to attempt,
and after thirty minutes her bell may ring again.
oooOooo
Our administering angel, it was Doris by the way,
no matter what the weather, she'd a cheery word to say.
She'd pour us out our water, and at twenty five past two,
She was calling out"Teas ready - that's forty pence to you"
oooOooo
Oh Marjorie, dear Marjorie, an expert on the past,
She'd tell you tales of travel, her experiences were vast.
And Roger was our expert on things related to the Hun,
and seemed to know what happened there since 1941.
oooOooo
Artistic talent varies from quite good to mediocre,
as brushes fill the images with shades of yellow ochre.
The strains of Webber's musicals or David Whitehorn's wit,
give the class the inspiration to create a little bit.
oooOooo
Our conversations vary from the mundane to the arts,
with conclusions to these topics the sum of all their parts.
At five to three we've had our tea and done a bit more painting,
And now we know it's time to go, another class is waiting.
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