Tag Archives: church

Those Ancient Hills

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Places.”

BeFunky_english hill.jpg

Those ancient hills of Devon

carved and sculpted into wild beauty

by millenia of harsh and gentle weather

trampled by roaming sentient creatures

what have they seen,

those silent rocks

exposed above the rough ground?

what colours in the skies above?

what visual poetry have they witnessed

and what forgotten life forms

have died beside them?

should I never again romp those hills

should my eyes close without a final view

or my ears have no last opportunity

to hear birds singing in those English trees

the growl of a distant tractor ploughing a field

and the laughter of my siblings

while the church bells chime out their music

calling the faithful to church in the nearby village

still all of my senses will unfold to the memories

of a child playing and skipping, possessing the world

running up and rolling down those beloved ancient hills.

© Jane Paterson Basil

New-born Day

This is my post for today’s Writing 2201 Poetry assignment. The required them is ‘Fog, and is is an Elegy which is meant to include metaphor. I think I slipped up a bit on the metaphor today. While I initially wanted to fulfil the requirement, I felt that it was a story which required a simple tone. I’ll try to make up for my omission in a later poem.

I haven’t written anything like this for a while If it fails to impress, a can only apologise. Perhaps it is a good poem, or perhaps it belongs in the bin. I will have no idea unless you tell me.


“Oh Mummy the fields are so fragrant today
a warm breeze ruffles the fresh-cut hay
and caresses my face as I’m laying in bed
it’s a new-born day oh Mummy,” she said

“Oh mummy the church bells are chiming for me
I can hear the notes as clear as can be
my heart’s full of feathers, I’ve smiles in my head
it’s a lovely day oh Mummy,” she said.

“Oh Mummy I’ve got almost everything here
music and sunshine fill me with cheer
but I feel a little lonely as I lie in this bed
oh Mummy I want my doll,” she said

All around me the kindness of sweet bouquets
with fragrance drawn out by summer haze
cluttered the room around the hospital bed
“Oh Mummy I want to get up,” she said

Through shrivelling misery I held my smile
and gently suggested that she rest awhile
at the sound of my voice her eyes filled with dread
“What have you done with my Mummy,” she said

Shaking she drew the sheet over her chest
a frightened beast with a terrifying guest
gnarled claw clutching her grey downed head
“Grandma, I wish you knew me,” I said

As I backed far away to allay her fears
my throat constricted with unshed tears
while a nurse slipped in with silent tread
“I can take over now,” she said

As I left the room I heard grandma say
“Who was that lady who came today?
where is my Mummy? Where is my doll?”
and she spoke to the tune of the church bell’s toll.

© Jane Paterson Basil