Waiting for visitors

St Peter's on the Wall, Bradwell.

St Peter’s on the Wall

I wrote this poem when realising how much I need space. The area round St Peter's with wide open fields and the River Blackwater is so very spacious. The playing fields in a nearby park have to make do when at home. Very fine the area of green is so I should not complain. Yet one is what one is and I am a rather claustrophobic person. It is no good denying that fact.
Now let me think of another fact. We have a lovely garden and a wooded area at the end of the garden. I always think we are so lucky in that respect. Why should I want more?
I suppose to some extent most people can think of more of this and more of that that they want. Maybe it is human nature to want more. I don’t know the answer to that. I only know that my New Year Resolution for 2007 is “be content”. I have everything I could possibly want.
Yet if that is the case what is the “divine discontent” that I have heard of. Maybe someone out there can tell me.

St Peter's on the Wall, Bradwell

I hope the person who took this picture will not object to me using it.

St Peter's on the Wall

St.Peter’s stands,

Full of centuried age,in the midst of dreaming acres.

Surrounding the ancient stones,

Under green banks,

are the remains of an even earlier occupation.

Othona’s Roman fort, guardingthe Saxon shore faced the same rushing waves.

The same salt-laden gales which sang their wild song

Chill the ears of pilgrims of the present day as they tread the path to antiquity and the time-

worn stones of sanctity.

A mass of lovely Spring Blossom for Easter

A Memorial for Frodo

I wrote Frodo's verses many years ago. It is quite true that all the family remember him. He was a dear old cat. Now he has a world wide memorial if anyone comes across this.

The Passing of Frodo, the Marmalade Cat

Today Frodo is history;

He has gone into our past.

How sad.

No longer he roams his world,

Free to go but choosing to stay

with us.

I hope he is in some feline paradise,

Loping through an eternal undergrowth

of joy.

He gave us much pleasure.

We shall remember him.

Frodo, the visitor who became a resident

Here is a memory of our old ginger cat.

Little ginger cat,

Whence came you?

Why to us

Do you confidently trot

Tail proudly erect?

What did we to gain your trust,

Your belief in us

As the constant providers?

Little cat, where go you

When you are comfortably full

And at ease in your world?

You, the most shameless of

Cupboard lovers,

The most cat-like of cats,

We like to see you

Tigrishly loping down the lawn

On your demanding visits.