Posted: March 11, 2012 in Poem
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

A buzzing ride

above the hill

bleating sheep

in their fold

Jack, no Jill

scampers past

seeks his master

long since gone

Faint winds breathe

great grit stones

fine loaves made

from what is ground

  1. Two very different posts about the same walk??

  2. Yes ‘fraid so, originality has never been my strong suit. Wanted to put some pics up but didn’t think these words necessarily went with them.

    I have no idea where this ‘poetry’ thing has come from (Quotes cos I’m not even sure that’s what it is). Never read poetry, apart from Chaucer as a boy. Never thought of myself as artistic / creative. I blame the solar flare.

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