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.
*
