And there is gold
Above, woven through the branches of light
Where fate has twisted our tangled tales
Plaited jade-like moss into our hair
And there is gold
Shining in our hearts for all to see
Where smiles of joy, masked by Autumn leaves
Drip, wet with our tears
And there is gold
Sparkling in our eyes elf-like
A mischief fire burning bright
Where our fairies dance and play
And there is gold
As synapses shift-change the seasons
Words as yet unwritten
Stories as yet unheard
And there is gold
Voices echoing 'cross bronze-clad lands
Joy in repetition, layered sounds resound
Bounding, deer-like, stalked-poems found
And there is gold
A Wensley
10.11.2023
Inspired by the members of our Quantock Poetry Trail Group as we walked along the Drove road on 6.11.2023
Refuge #nationalpoetryday
When moorland mists swirl and curl,
I take refuge
In your velvet;
Your soft, green embrace.
Cardigan-like,
You keep me safe.
Grounded, like your Autumn leaves,
Shed, like tears from storms now passed,
You hold my earthly form,
In non-transient, true belonging.
I am yours.
Weathered? Yes! Strong.
You are Quantock:
Hill and coast,
Stream and pill,
You are Quantock:
Silence,
Still.
-------
Or...
In Haiku form:
A mist cardigan,
Woven through coombes, moors, embrace
Wrap me, refuge-like.
A Wensley
5.10.2023
A poem for the first Somerset and Exmoor Coast Festival
Follow a trail of memories
From one end down to t'other,
I've walked a thousand miles 'long here
Alone, with friends and Mother.
There's Porlock where my wedding car
Was slightly a bit late,
And Minehead where I went to school,
Cross-country, sixth-form, great!
There's Blue Anchor where my Auntie lived
And Old Cleeve where I was born,
There's Watchet where my boyfriends lived
Teenagers so forlorn.
There's Helwell Bay and Doniford
Where we would go to play,
And St Audries Church, West Quantoxhead
Remembered to this day -
(Embarrassingly wet myself,
oh dear I hear Mum say).
From West to East, East Quantoxhead
Is where I was brought up,
From one and half to 19 years
It really filled my cup.
My cup it runneth over,
Such joy in these surrounds,
Woodlands, streams and beaches,
With Dad tilling the grounds.
The coastal path to Kilve's much walked
The strata's changed with time,
I've seen many a reflection
In it's rock pools, not just mine.
My daughters love to play here too,
Find creatures and just gaze
Like their Mum, at the tide and sky,
When their mind's in a daze.
From here it's on to Lilstock
The Quantocks a backdrop view,
Where my memories this past long year
Have been of poets, walking, phew!
Hinkley C now dominates
The next few miles of coast,
My Brother worked there for a while,
Hi Walford - now there's a ghost!
Doddington where my best friend lived,
Shurton, Burton, home to Sis,
(A short while before she moved away
To the Mendips, wedded bliss).
Stogursey next and Steart,
The bird-life hides and storks,
I love to come here on days off
Be mindful and blog walks.
Bridgwater Bay looms into view
My current home of late,
The Parrett Trail it twists and turns
Just like my life, oh fate!
Highbridge, Burnham, Berrow, Brean
Sandy here at t'other end,
I could watch the seagulls here all day,
Dear Jonathan Livingston, friend.
I hope you've enjoyed this little trip
From there to here and on,
It's been a great adventure
But now I must be gone.
Anon.
- Only kidding, it was me, all along.
A Wensley
24.09.2023
Walking a/way
In the Autumn of my Motherhood
The leaves are turning.
Each leaf - a page in my daughter’s story.
Soon, the leaves we’ve grown thus far together
Will lie fallen beneath our feet
As she creates her own path
Through the wilderness of our world.
As she walks away, ahead of me, along The Drove,
For the first time
I see a young Shepherdess, no longer my timid sheep.
Realisation pierces my bark-shielded heart, arrow-like;
Her independence will one day leave me
Obsolete.
I shiver,
My branches hanging bare,
Cold, through the childless Winters yet to come.
I curl up, under a mossy blanket, foetal, dream…
Thriving, not simply surviving;
Will her leaves grow with vigour
Once out, from the limiting shade of my canopy?
Or shrivel, without protection
From the unforgivable heat?
Will blossom adorn her,
Bees swarm to her,
Birds nest within her open branches
Producing a generation who'll return here too, someday?
Perhaps she will find pleasure, solace,
In her rich tapestry of leaf-shades
Come her Autumn years?
Or perhaps she will crunch through them
In defiance for those pages of her life
Swept away by early storms;
Shredded before their time to glow,
In this new climate of unpredictable sunshine.
Among these forebodingly-grey beech-like thoughts,
A witness to my future fears stops,
Returns to the fold of my wool-fibred skirt,
And seeks out my hand,
To walk with me a while longer…
Hold on dear leaves,
Don’t let the wind blow too hard.
Too soon.
A Wensley
25/08/23
Fragility Naivety
Fragility, naivety,
Butterfly: beauty in flight;
Carefree, crushed-velvet,
Tissue-paper winged.
Hidden danger,
Spider: carnivorous croucher;
Cunning, silk-weaved-webs,
Sticky-threaded-needles.
Fragility, naivety,
Butterfly: flightless, caught!
Futile, life-crushed!
Mummified; drawn-out-death.
Hidden danger?
Spider: survivor!
Evolutionary table-turner; silk-encasing,
Chrysalis-cocooned; a bodybag-for-life.
A. Wensley
27.07.2023
Revolver
Earth turning
Moon yearning
Clouds drifting
Thoughts shifting
Time slowing
Mind glowing
Air clearing
Eyes blearing
Am I revolving?
Are we evolving?
Eyes turning
Air yearning
Mind drifting
Time shifting
Thoughts slowing
Clouds glowing
Moon clearing
Earth blearing
Are we revolving?
Am I evolving?
Sun's setting
On another day.
A Wensley
29.06.2023
Inspired by the sky between 9.28 - 9.48pm
Blue Monday
On the surface the scene is simple;
SEE the sea, spray and sky.
But, SENSE the undercurrent: (increase pace during this section)
Cumulative, corrosive and compounding.
The air:
Angry, antagonistic and ambiguous.
The tide:
Tumultuous and treacherous, a tirade of trauma, tears...
Bombarded? BREATHE (slow pace)
When I feel this way
I tell myself:
TAKE A STEP FORWARD
FEEL the ever-emerging shore:
Smooth, sure and serene
(though scarified by my psycho-symptomed-sea).
BREATHE
For HERE, at the water's edge,
Where the clear blue sky strips my emotions bare;
I'm beloved - bathed in sunlight.
My Blue Monday?
Is melodic, mellow, melancholic no more;
I'm mindful.
A Wensley
18/6/23
#SomersetMyHappyPlace
Using all the beautiful photos and locations that were shared for Mental Health Awareness Week 2023, Somerset Council have created an interactive map, which showcases all the ‘Happy Places’ in Somerset.
There are some truly magnificent spots included including, my contribution, East Quantoxhead (where this poem was inspired)
https://orlo.uk/Ezngc
The Purple Valley
SEE...
Baby steps dancing their way through the combe
Beneath the clouds of purple blooms...
HEAR...
The hum of bees as they gather together
The nectar within those purple blooms...
TASTE...
The sweet juice of togetherness,
Family picnics among those purple blooms...
FEEL…
The magic, here, in the air,
Touch my past, hold my hand, and you're right there.
WALK…
With me now and imagine the scene
Through a toddler's eyes -
Wide to the world,
Energy exerted,
Screams!
"Mum, wait, I need a wee!"
"Find a space under that tree!"
Grown-ups, teens and children all
Have been here, answered nature's call!
A purple den for hide and seek,
A sun-soil-shield, no ‘life’ beneath.
Many a solstice passes…
Warmth fills the skies,
FEEL, SEE this place
Through changing eyes.
Yes, the birds still chitter,
Sloworms still wriggle,
Insects writhe and badgers snuffle -
But the hum - the hum has gone -
...until the heather blooms.
Decades have passed since I last walked here
With my parents, brother, sister, deer.
Conservation has swept the valley floor
The invasive rhodies are no more?
But as I've grown I've learnt the why,
Native plants CAN now SEE the sky.
The purple valley ceases to be,
Except here, in my memory.
A Wensley
25.06.23
Inspired by Vinnecombe (the walk up to Staple Plain)
Quantock Poetry Trail 