Well it looks like winter is dragging on so nothing for it but a poem ...
Too long the winter, too long the snow,
She’s longing for summer and flowers to show.
Wishing for fishing where the river runs slow
where throstles and blackbirds set the sunset aglow.
February fill dyke be it black or be white,
brings dismal days and dreary dark nights.
Rain once again, in needle sharp spears
She’s weighted with sorrow and the passing of years.
She hear’s the old ones mummer and pray
For this too long a winter to be on its way.
My lady of Time with the Crone’s loving blow
brings release and sweet peace to those who must go.
Dreaming of summer, she’s aching for love,
a hand to hold, blue skies high above,
but wishes like kisses they come and they go
Like this too long a winter and too long snow. ... See MoreSee Less
2 months ago ·
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Had been working on this poem for several weeks without getting very far with it until I stumbled across this beautiful painting by Charlene Osorio which made me realise what I was writing about.
The Midnight Horses
No leaves on the trees nor cows in the meadows,
the sheep have gone from the corn
and the boy with the horn warns from the shadows
The Midnight horses come before dawn.
Frost and snow lie by ditch and hedgerow,
the water has froze in the well.
Neither Jack nor Jill can climb up the hill
For the Midnight Horses wait in the dell.
Clip and clop, up and down
the Midnight Horses are out in the town.
Their eyes shining bright with shattered stars
they’re standing near to take you far.
Along the Hanging road you’ll go
to where the ring-a-ring roses grow.
Jack’s no longer nimble nor is he quick
and he cannot jump the candle stick.
His legs are bent, his feet are sore
the Midnight Horses are at his door.
The girl who loves her wayward sheep
is already lost and fast asleep.
On a sable steed she rides
to where the ring-a-ring roses bide.
Clip and clop, up and down
the Midnight Horses are out in the town.
Their eyes shining bright with shattered stars
they’re standing near to take you far.
Along the Hanging road you’ll go
to where the ring-a-ring roses grow.
Christmas is coming, the geese aren’t getting fat
and no-one puts a penny in the old man’s hat.
the little wee man cries through the town
the horses are coming, draw your drapes down.
Bar your doors, turn your face to the wall
all will be taken both great and small.
Tick and tock the hickory clock shudders and stops
the little mouse spins round and round.
The boy with the horn capers and hops
the horses are leaving the town.
Through wind and snow they slowly go
along a trail of tears
to the where the ring-a-ring roses grow
Beyond the ticking of years
Clip and clop away the sound dies,
the Midnight Horses are leaving.
Shattered stars weep in their eyes
and pretty maids lie a grieving.
www.equestrianart.com/four-horsemen.html ... See MoreSee Less
1 years ago ·
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Last few More Bells T-shirts left ... I have them in purple, black and white. Check the website for sizes as I don't have them all ... suekendrick.co.uk/suesbooks/morebellstshirt ... See MoreSee Less
1 years ago ·
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