A Gentleman Suitor To His Beloved
—
“My darling, let us sit down upon the grass.
Though the firmament fall, my love for thee tis sure to last.
Other men may betray, but my heart is steadfast.
Let us be quick my sweet, for I must dash”.
—
The Lady’s Response To Her Suitor
—
“Sweetheart, the ground is wet and cold,
To recline upon it would quite ruin my clothes.
The heavens show no sign of falling,
Besides, I hear mama calling”.
The man a mermaid caught.
Together they did cavort.
Their love was dearly bought.
It ended up in court
The following was written a day after having returned from a visit to Keswick in Cumbria. The lake is located at Lingholm, while the brook is situated some 5 minutes walk from the cottage in which we stayed.
Gentle ripples on tranquil lake,
May your beauty my sorrow take.
Brook that babbles the livelong day,
Thou will wash my cares away.
During my recent visit to the lakes, I visited St Bega’s Church in Bassenthwaite Cumbria, (http://www.visitcumbria.com/cm/bassenthwaite-st-begas-church/). The building is pre-Norman and it was amazing to touch the ancient arch, constructed out of rough hewn stone and know that it had been built prior to the Norman conquest of 1066.
As explained by the above link, the church inspired one of Tennyson’s greatest poems,
“Lord Alfred Tennyson stayed at Mirehouse in 1835 while he was writing his poem ‘Morte D’Arthur’ and St Bega’s Church inspired the opening lines:
‘…to a chapel nigh the field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on a dark straight of barren land,’.
A small distance along the shore you will find a simple open-air theatre erected by the Tennyson Society at the place where it is thought he composed much
of the poem”.
I have just returned from the Lake District (Cumbria UK) which explains my lack of posting over the last 4 days. We stayed in a lovely cottage just outside Keswick and spent most of our time walking and, in the evening enjoying the delights of the local hostelries.
I had fun on the first morning. Being first up I took a refreshing shower. Having finished I reached for the door. Being blind I felt around but no obvious way of opening the door could I find. I ran my hands along the rubber seal which holds the 2 halves of the shower door together but could ascertain no way of opening the dratted shower other than employing brute force and given our accommodation was rented this was not a particularly appealing road to go down! Eventually I discovered a knob in the middle of the door which, when pulled released me from my confinement, (on entering the shower I had pulled the doors shut manually so had not noticed the elusive knob)! Anyway no harm was done and the time spent stewing in the shower meant I barely needed to use the bath sheet which I had placed just outside my prison (sorry shower).
While in Cumbria we visited relatives staying on the Lingholm estate, (http://thelingholmestate.co.uk/house). The estate was built in the 1870’s by the architect Alfred Waterhouse and the author Beatrix Potter visited regularly in the last decade of the 19th century.
Prior to enjoying our evening meal I wandered down to the lake (which is fed by Derwent Water). The profound peace of the place was broken only by the gentle lapping of the water and the convivial conversation of my companions and I.
Lingholm is a magical place to visit and I can understand why Beatrix Potter returned for 9 consecutive years.
Cumbria is a wonderful part of the UK and is well worth a visit but beware of the showers …!
So many phantoms have there been,
Flitting through my waking dreams.
Spectres long forgotten stand,
Reaching out their ice cold hands.
Ghosts with nails sharp,
Tear the sinews of my heart.
Then with gaze cold,
Feast upon my immortal soul.
I will be taking a break from writing from 6-11 July. Well I won’t be posting here. My brain will, however still be turning over ideas regarding stories and poems for it is, in my experience impossible for the author to wholly switch off even when on holiday. I may post again prior to 6 July but, failing that I look forward to seeing you all on or around 11 July.
Kevin
The candles shone on the girl’s long black hair, which cascaded over her slim bare shoulders. Angela had chosen the expensive strapless dress with great care, after all it isn’t often that a young woman is invited out to dinner in what is, by many considered to be the capital’s top restaurant and with one of London’s leading celebrities to boot.
“Thank you for the meal”, she said fixing her soft brown eyes on those of her companion, “the food was wonderful”.
Angela’s companion heard not a word, for he was engrossed in the conversation of the couple seated on the adjacent table.
“Now how could I use that exchange without being sued?” the writer mused.
—
The sunlight danced on the becalmed sea. Children’s laughter, including that of her own 2 kids, Molly and John, reached Jessica where she sat on the beach towel.
“Mummy, mummy, play with me”, said Molly, tugging at Jessica’s hand. So intent on her musings had Jessica been that she had failed to notice the approach of her daughter.
“Mummy’s busy dear” Jessica said returning to her writing.
“The sunlight danced upon the becalmed sea. The excited squeals of children playing happily in the waves reached the girl as she lay on her beach towel”, Jessica wrote.
Wind chimes.
A clock measuring time.
Summer breeze from open door.
The heart is at peace, who can ask for more?
Oft he sought the perfect rose,
Enjoyed the flower where it grows.
Soon he found the blooms did pall,,
His dalliances they turn to gall.
Still he after pleasure strove,
Clutched noisome blossoms to his nose.
Thorns they speared him through the heart,
Still his desire did not depart.
They found him lying on a bed cold,
In his hand a fading rose.
K Morris - Poet 