A CORNISH ROWER by Ruth Tremayne Harry
There’s a statue by the riverA woman sitting on a benchShe is gazing at the waterWith a rower’s steel intent Ann Glanville is this rowerShe
Category: Poetry
FROM AN EXILE by Les Rendell
Where do I live?The question begs an answer in perplexity,For if my body works and bides in EnglandThe heart that pumps the bloodstream giving breathCan
BYGONE DAYS by Les Rendell
Life wanders on, year in, year out, apaceAs melancholy haunts the backward gaze;But memory holds alive those years of graceOf Cornish childhood, golden bygone days.
DAY’S END by Les Rendell
‘Tes time to riddle out grate, mautherAn’ to maake us desh o’ tay,Fer be gwain up temberen ‘ill, mautherIn coose fer anawther day. ‘Twas ‘ansum,
CADGWITH COVE
On the extreme south coast of CornwallLies the picturesque Cadgwith CoveIt’s the home of fishermen’s familiesA very special treasure trove The fishing fleet is centralIt’s
Cruel Coppinger by Ian Marshall.
A ship lay off the Cornish coast one fearsome stormy night.She struck her bows upon the rocks and quickly sank from sight;But from the wreck
LOCKDOWN by Ruth Tremayne Netter 6 January, 2021
We’re in lockdown yet againAnd advised to stay at homeThe virus is now rampantThank God I’m not alone It seems the risk gets higher1 in
LANDSCAPE by Les Rendell
I gaze upon the granite moor and mark the summit of the tor;And all around the windswept green, changing hue to shades between.While over where
NEWQUAY REMEMBERED Ruth Tremayne Netter 27th December, 2020
Renowned for cliffs and beachesA seaside town with natural charmAnd on the outskirt village hamletsWith cows, horses and a farm There were tourists in the
GWENNAP PIT by Ruth Tremayne Netter
With photos by Terry Harry It’s the heart of the Methodist worldWhere John Wesley made his markAnd as the people came to listenSomething profound had
How do you know you’re back where you belong? by Alan Murton
How do you know?When the winter sun is shining and the sea is cobalt blue,When the golden sand is gleaming, Atlantic rollers sweeping inAnd you
“Where I belong…” by Alan Murton
Empty winter beachebb tide leaves mirrored pools.Lovers stroll, hold hands.Seabirds wheeling high, reach for the towering crags,swoop to foaming surf.gone the summer throng,stretches the endless
A Cornishman’s Alphabet After Phillip Gross by Alan Murton
An Alturnun Academic Arguing Attic ArtsBodmin Bully-Boys Booking Beds for bards.Cool Chaps from Camborne Catching the Coach for Brittany…Deacons from Doublebois Drowning their own litany…Emmet
Hands Across The Sea by Lewis Rowe
Cousin Jacks and Jills in foreign parts With memories of this Duchy in their hearts;In Philadelphia or Wisconsin, USA,Australia, down Perth or Melbourne wayLiving where Pacific