History Repeats Itself

The Wordle

THE SUNDAY WHIRL
http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com
asks us to use the twelve words in the Wordle


HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF

It all began in anguish; 

Our green earth born in flame;

With volcanic shocks

From melting rocks

This peaceful planet came.

And then our earth was frozen;

The permeable soil turned to ice.

All was white

And hard and bright

Not just once, but twice.

And now our earth seems settled, 

Serenity seems the norm,

We wash our feet

In fields fresh and sweet

Apart from the occasional storm.

But, sometimes, something startles

Us out of our seeming calm.

Intimations of slaughter

By fire, ice or water

Still fill us with alarm.

*

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THE WONDROUS WAYS

I've never been to Lincolnshire

And the time to go is past.

But the lovely lanes of Lincolnshire

Have caught me and held fast.

The dreamy curves all overhung

With shades of vivid green.

The gate-posts and the fences

And the tufted grass between.

The wondrous ways of England

That I didn't know I'd missed.

And the lovely lanes of Lincolnshire

Leading on into the mist.

*

The land I've chosen spreads so wide

It's greens are muted, soft.

The gums shine silver overhead

And hold their leaves aloft.

The brilliant blue of summer skies

Arcs daily overhead

And the heart of this great country

Is like blood, a brilliant red.

But a lingering love of England

Is still with me, so it seems

And the lovely lanes of Lincolnshire

Lead on into my dreams.

*

The cottages, the village greens,

The cricketers in white

The 'chintzy chintzy cheeriness'

The misty moisty light.

They tell me life has undergone

Some sorry alterations

They tell me mine's the biased view

Of older generations.

They tell me nothing's permanent

And dreams aren't made to last.

But the lovely lanes of Lincolnshire

Lead back into my past.

*