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Archive for the ‘Lincolnshire’ Category

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A Summer Of Lancasters

A Summer Of Lancasters

Lincoln Minster

Vestibule of Lincoln’s crown
Set high upon the hill
Still reaching out cross the shire
In awe and wonder still

Set out against the clear blue sky
The Minster’s mission proud
To welcome, greet with open heart
To beckon all aloud

And through the years it’s stood transfixed
In garb of mighty stone
A church, icon, community
Alive and not alone

Lincoln Cathedral from the west, showing all t...

Lincoln Cathedral from the west, showing all three main towers (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Edible Hedgerow

The time of year is ripe to find
An edible hedgerow
With brambles, elderberry’s and
Of course the well-known sloe

The time of year when with a bit
Of luck and patience too
The cupboards can be stocked again
With goodies free to you

From bramble jelly to a drink
Of cordial – sure to win
But first a drop; aperitif
Of fine homemade sloe gin!

English: Hedgerow, Kirkstead Sloe berries.

English: Hedgerow, Kirkstead Sloe berries. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ruby Verge

Iodine line beneath red streak in sky
Time to rest heads and on pillows then lie
To breathe in the last air that spills from the blue
To slumber in darkness that’s covering you
For away to the west the ruby verge creeps
As the world in the east is now sound asleep

Ruby Verge

The George Of Stamford

Upon the stage post by the road
The Great North Road between
Old London Town and York up North
An old inn can be seen

A hostelry of some renown
Hotel of certain fame
A place where Kings have laid their head
As others have the same

Where once religious pilgrims stayed
Where knights were entertained
Where hospital and holy house
Were part as church ordained

Where time has come and time has gone
To lay a story bare
Through artefacts from history
Imbuing evening air

And now in cloistered quadrangle
Set ‘gainst this walk in time
The old inn bids each one that calls
A welcome quite sublime

The George at Stamford

 

Gardens of Surprises

There’s a garden set at Burghley
Just back from Stamford town
That’s full of joy and hidden gems
To lift you if you’re down

A garden stocked with wonder
Surprises and much more
With sights and sounds of pure delight
That you will so adore

From waterfalls to mirrored maze
To obelisks and rill
With statues, sculptures, Caesar busts
Exuding fun to thrill

A place to walk and wonder
With mysteries at heart
Where magic secrets are revealed
Amidst the works of art

Written following a visit to the Gardens of Surprises at Burghley House, Stamford, Lincolnshire UK.

Gardens of Suprises

 

Always

A dedication to those who served in the D-Day Landings (6th June 1944)

I will never forget you
Always; always there
The men that went to save us all
From tyranny; despair
Ahead the roaring Dakota
To bring about new light
A light that now shines luminously
Across the world tonight

I will never forget you
Always; Always true
On beach history surging forward
Yet for many their adieu
And you?  It cost everything
Past this world to the next
Your sacrifice; the final one
In a place so very vexed

I will never forget you
Always; Always young
At peace now from the cries of war
Your old age n’er to be sung
And me; I will remember well
The chaos and the pain
The costly price of freedom, may
It never be in vain

We will never forget you
Always ; always there
The men that went to save us all
From tyranny; despair
And let the lessons learnt stay true
The guns of war now cease
Uphold the light of soldiers in
Hope of a world at peace

Yesterday was the 70th anniversary of the D-Day landings in France.  BBC Radio Lincolnshire played a tape recording of four Veterans from the county through the day, Tony Blackman, Arthur Ernie Coville, Bernard John Hale and John Summerson.  It concluded “I want to go back to leave some of myself behind to the fallen lads that I knew – I shall always think about those that we left behind – always” 

We will remember them – always.

Lest We Forget

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them

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