Poems to read and to enjoy

Poems about Kinson Some of the following were featured and read during National Poetry day in 2002. Unless stated all the poems featured are the copyright of Rodney Haskell. Permission is given to use them. SOLDIERS The little stream still flows where they said their fond farewells to the green fields of England to their loved ones and their pals Though they`ll never come again to those fields they all once knew a little part of England still belongs to all of you A tablet in Kinson Church and a book are all that`s left to record the many names of a past now quite bereft They died not in vain Who ever they may be All gave their precious life blood so this nation could be free. THE FOX IN OLD SPINDLEWOOD (extract) There`s a fox in old Spindlewood who`s always up to no good he rattles the bins and for all of his sins he`s doing what a crafty fox should Then he trots home to his bed In a nice cumfy mound he lives underground and there he will doze all day when nightime arrives on darkness he thrives This is his time to play With Millhams his venue and bunnies his menu at times he`s quite overfed With a lick of his licks he gobbles `em down Then he trots home to his bed It doesn`t seem fair as he lies in his lair with an everso filled up tum Perhaps in a new world new plans will unfurl and bunnies will go yum! yum! A SOLITARY CORN MARIGOLD A solitary corn marigold forgot one important factor one should never ever flower in the path of a Council tractor better luck next year! FALLING LEAVES (extract) Golden and yellow medallions are scattered beneath the trees when nature releases the summer with a gust or a hearty breeze The summer now is saying it`s time for her to flee she does it in a carefree way beneath every living tree . THE TELLY IN MILLHAMS ROAD A kind and thoughtful person has placed a telly in Millhams Road with chairs and stuff galore so I can sit in front of it and read the cricket score well, I would if, I could cept it doesn`t work anymore! THE KINSON CROCODILE Running round The Dolphin The Bunny and Kinson Green a crocodile goes weaving a funny peculiar scene! Running round The Pound The Well and Pelhams Green a crocodile goes weaving bright-eyed and keen! Running round The Tulip Old Pelhams and Brookside a crocodile goes weaving with jaws open wide! Running round The Enoch`s Old cottages and Manor Farm a crocodile goes weaving there`s no cause for alarm! Running round Grey Cottages Lamb`s tree and Kinson Church a crocodile goes weaving complete`s its local research! This crocodile is harmless it belongs not to a zoo It is Kinson Primary children writing an historical review! Long may The Crododile continue to show its face denoting that Old Kinson lives on in a modern day place. THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER The last rose of summer has fallen her petals are in disarray The wind has no respect for love as it blows the summer away TIME A person`s time should be well spent for time to us is only lent and everyone should have a goal to see us through to make us whole and as we journey to the end Time to us should be a friend JIM ROOK ( Mr. C. N. Jolliffe 1894 -1989) Jim Rook, Jim Rook is fast asleep amongst old friends near Cudnell Brook Jim Rook, Jim Rook he has no need of worldly things in Andrew`s Mead Jim Rook, Jim Rook will tell no more his village tales of the rich and the poor Jim Rook, Jim Rook here lies he he made his mark now he is history! GOLDEN SUNBEAMS Into a dark secluded nook golden sunbeams trickled through Come.. wake up sleepy head Mother Nature`s calling you! Bold blackbird`s silver chorus joined by a rival thrush Get up.... come see meadows green and lush enjoy these tranquil hours before the daily rush THE OLD STONE WHICH STOOD BY PELHAM`S WALL Good Day Mr. Street forgive my tone today, whilst rebuilding Pelham`s Wall workmen took our stone away Your loyal Council workmen were advised what to do, after their patchwork job the stone wasn`t returned to view Our stone was centuries old perhaps it looked forlorn? It stood in that position before your Council was born Old Kinson would be grateful if you would investigate, please put our stone back we hope it`s not too late? Please ask Mr. Lomas To look and see? What happened to our stone? Where ever can it be? THE BOROUGH ENGINEER`S REPLY! Dear Mr. Haskell, you shame us to the core, had we known its value, the Stone would be in store. As things are at present, we seem to have made a slip - the stone in all its glory is at the bottom of the tip. So it would appear there is only one thing to do and that is to say, I`m truly sorry to the Millhams folk and you! THE STARLING Waddling on the ground always searching for food someone should teach him table manners for he`s often very rude. His redeeming features are, his purple and glossy sheen also a medley of chatters to cheer the remotest scene. YULETIDE HOLLY Safe is the holly when no berries does it bear for if its overburdened its treasures it must share Tugged and torn and beaten to provide sprigs for the wall yet, where in winter will birds look when we have stripped it all? SILHOUETTES Silhouettes upon the hill, silhouettes just standing still, silhouettes on darkened sky, those silhouettes go riding by, clipping-clopping never stopping, `till they reach that lonely beach. Silhouettes along the shore, those silhouettes with tubs galore, those silhouettes by lantern-light, those silhouettes at work tonight. Clipping-clopping from the shore, clipping-clopping by the moor, clipping-clopping through the woods, clipping-clopping with "the goods". Clipping-clopping sometimes stopping, clipping-clopping kegs a-dropping, clipping clopping through the glade, clipping-clopping last "drop`s" made. Those silhouettes come trotting back, clipping-clopping cloaked in black, clipping-clopping through the night, clipping-clopping out of sight. The blues and reds will search in vain, in lofty tower or sunken drain, will chase thin air, will chase like hound, those silhouettes have gone to ground. Try catching moonbeams, or shadows in the sky, you will grasp at nothing when those silhouettes trot by, clipping-clopping never stopping, miles away at break of day. ROBERT TROTMAN (Perhaps written by George Lockyer?) A little tea, one leaf I did not steal for guiltless bloodshed, I to God appeal put tea in one scale, human blood in t`other and think what `tis to slay a harmless brother OUBEE IS GOING HOME (By Mr. Randolph Paul ) Mr. Randolph Paul has researched a rather sad story about an Newfoundland Indian girl who was captured and was brought to England to be a servant to Mr. Stone at Howe Lodge in the late 1790`s. It is not surprising that she died in Kinson soon afterwards and was buried in Kinson churchyard. No one knows quite where. This poem is an extract from his book of poems about Oubee. Her haunting memory lives on. Oubee is going home Where are you going oubee? Oubee is going home Oubee is going home to swim to swim in black duck river the sun is watching for oubee Oubee is going home to swim Where are you going oubee? Oubee is going home Oubee is going home to catch fish to catch salmon in thunder brook the sun is watching for oubee Ooubee is going home to catch fish Oubee is going home Oubee is going home going home to sing a long song to sing of red indian waters sweet waters of life the sun is watching for Oubee Oubee is going home to sing a long song IT`S TIME FOR NATURE TO MOVE ON Brown rats are bright not duff for they`d certainly `ad enough To the Kingfisher they said: We`ll help move your bed Let`s all go to Millhams instead These creatures then left in hoards on trolleys and trikes and kid`s motorbikes and some whizzed off on sail-boards If we cleaned up this mess we could all start again anew In a spirit of togetherness Mother Nature would say: Thank You! NOT IN MY BACK YARD I can see each curtain flicker as trouble passes by I can see their jaded looks as they cast a scornful eye Shortly after dawn out will come the troops busy yacking over fences they stand about in groups The trouble`s quickly righted these troups have aching jaws everyone`s going to be knighted they scurry back indoors Let others do the work is the nimbys way let it all hang out whilst others beaver away Moaning`s done the trick It really wasn`t hard other have the problem now it`s not in our backyard! OUR STREAM BESIDE A WATERFALL (extract) To sit beside a stream in spring when life renews and feathers sing; when nature glistens on parade and rainbows dance around a glade; We in lightness now recall our stream beside a waterfall If you should not return in May to watch and ponder time away; nor sit in June or sweet July nor watch the graceful summer fly; nor sit in August or September we are aware - we will remember We shall gather when we may to watch and ponder time away; to dream of oaks and cooling shade of vibrant stream and greeny glade: You are there as we recall our stream beside a waterfall PLEASURE (Written for the brownies of Kinson) So much to see in glades we pass where orchids flower deep in grass So much to see where streams rush on as ripples sparkle then are gone So much to heed by heath and wood where deer run free and time is good So much to view on time`s fair face where light and darkness merge in space So much to dwell if only we could pause awhile to watch and see No time to fret while others run as we with nature merge as one So much to see till day is done of beauty formed since time begun KINSON COMMON This is the place few people know where birds do sing and orchids grow where time it hangs beneath each bough as centuries come and go as now A RUBBISH DUMPER`S SONG (Amended in 2002.) If you stir at midnight, and hear a dumper`s feet, Don`t stare out your misted windows, nor gaze in the street, Best ask no questions and turn a sleepy eye, Back to bed, nosey people, as the dumpers speed by. Five and twenty vehicles, Whizzing through the dark- `Beds for Millhams Mead, Rugs for Pelhams Park,` Junk for Two Barrow, awful rubbish piled up high, Go back to bed, nosey people, as the dumpers speed by! As you pass Great Oaks you may even find, Wheel-barrows, old and rusty, an full of broken jars, Don`t you shout nor tell your friends, nor with them Let kids play, Take a chance grab `em then - or they`ll be gone next day! If you see a stolen `lectric meter open wide; Give it a shake - be sure to look inside; If Mum needs a 16 coat -take a little tour; Do try Poole Lane Sallows - Mum won`t need one anymore. If you meet some Council folk, dressed in red or green, Think before you speak, and mind what is said, If they shout `Hello sailor`, and wink at you and grin, Don`t tell `em what you`re after, nor what`s in your wheelie bin! Bangs and heavy boots pass your house - such awful Sounds after dark- Don`t go running out even if your dog should bark, Snowy`s here, look at him, he`s not dumb just fly, He`s no intention of following any dunpers going by! Those that don`t ask questions will be sure to find - All sorts of goodies that those dumpers left behind! KAISER`S "KAR" KINSON (Kingfisher - December 1907) (Attributed to the late Captn. Russell of Kinson House.) There travels with Kings and with Kaisers, a great many able advisers, and they think that they know, all the best roads to go, but they find that some roads are surprisers. I am told that it was somebody`s daughter, who advised them to go through the water. `twas like Bay of Biscay. they smelt doctor`s whisky`, so they instantly yelled for a porter. When in flood `tis no place for a bloater, much less for a nobleman`s motor`, Jess Short and Bill Hicks, did the work of quite six, and, with others, they managed to floater. Dr. Lamb then appeared as adviser, but they soon hurried after the Kaiser, most sternly he said, as he sent them to bed, `Naughty Boys, p`raps next time you`ll be wiser`. A word or two more about Hicks, when he found the fat man in a fix, without any pretence, his weight was immense, for he weighed like a thousand of bricks. I am thankful to hear that Jess Short. did just what an Englishman ought, though the water was chilly, he worked well with Billy, Millhams is a dangerous port. Here`s a reference to Lamb once again, he prescribed such good stuff for their pain, his excellent whisky, made those Germans so frisky, they want to get stuck there again! The Kinson Lads (1984, revised 1990.) The Kinson Lads were out at dawn they wandered through the golden corn across the bridge those lads did file a ragged-winding crocodile Down from Cudnell they did savour Longham`s mushrooms full of flavour found them in Hop-Gardens Mead finest crop they all agreed Work soon done they wandered back along the winding leafy-track across the bridge did slowly file a happy smiling crocodile They worked the land and wages earned summer eve`s they all returned across the bridge those lads did file a happy laughing crocodile They brought the girls from miles around to their favourite hunting ground amongst old oaks they wandered through enjoyed the gentle evening dew Golden notes from rising lark filled the lovers` leafy park across the bridge their hearts did file a happy loving crocodile The Great War took the lads away they never returned another day across the bridge their spirits did file a ragged ghostly crocodile At first light one summer`s morn despoliers trampled down the corn destroyed the bridge lads loved to file ended the village crocodile Today no lads are out at dawn there`s no more lovely golden corn the bridge has gone where they did file there`s no more ragged crocodile