Tag: Nayland

Hill Rise to Shaddelows farm

Children’s voices on dancing tones meet my ears, this lonely corner of Suffolk so fixed in the mind. Here I am again, in visions land of secrets. None but you know my heart. The ‘poets tearful fooling’ has caused me to wander this way again, in visions windy autumn madness. Now as my day dulls, the souls of a million…

Mad Abstraction

Got up this morning to the mind circus, masses of memory flowers invaded my conscience. A log floating down an old Suffolk river passing a small white boat, why so vivid that day when dad and me lazed in the wonder of that long English summer? These days I can hardly remember my name, but those far away days now…

Half moon on Harpers Hill

Those that dreamed will dream, even though their ashes tell their secrets to an ancient sun that wore such a trustworthy smile. And as for those that remember, we have to tolerate po-faced Lizards that claim to be, ‘Historians.’ We were robbed by the fountain pen, made cartoon and dismissed like the laborer on Constables ‘Haywain.’ What a drag these…