Tag Archives: upper norwood

The Clutter Monster by Sally Walford

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On the evening of Sunday 29 September, I was privileged to meet Sally Walford and her partner in my favourite Bangladeshi restaurant.

I had seen Sally on several previous occasions. However I had not had the pleasure of conversing with her until Sunday evening.

I was intrigued to find that Sally is a children’s author and has published “The Clutter Monster”, The book description of which reads as follows:

“The Clutter Monster lives in the land of Mess, a monster who loves nothing more than very messy children and very messy playrooms.

This story for children , The Clutter Monster, tells the tale of one dark night when two messy children are spotted by The Clutter Monster.

Only The Decluttering Dog has the secret of how to make the Monster go.

Will he get to them in time to save their fate?

This delightful tale encourages children to tidy up their toys and keep on top of that clutter!”.

Whilst I haven’t read “The Clutter Monster”, I see from Amazon and Goodreads that the book has received a number of excelent reviews.

You can find out more about “The Clutter Monster” by Sally Walford here, https://thecluttermonster.com.

The Bells of All Saints

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What do the bells of All Saints say
On this cold spring day?
Is it “repent?”
Or a lament,
A sighing
For a civilisation that is dying?
I can not say.

—

The above poem was inspired by me hearing the bells of All Saints Church, as I passed through the churchyard on the morning of Sunday 5th May 2019). You can find All Saints Upper Norwood here, http://www.allsaintsuppernorwood.co.uk/).

Wild Flowers

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I perceive
The flowers as I
Pass by.
Should I
Grieve
That they will die?

I paused and smelt
And felt
Their slim stem that I
Could so easily break.

I chose not to take
And did the blooms forsake
For I
Know that they shall die

This poem and others like it can be found in ‘The Writer’s Pen and other poems’, available here for the UK and here for the US.

The above pictures were taken in Spa Wood, SE19.

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Bluebells close-up

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Yellow flowers close-up

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Wild garlic close-up

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Blue flowers close-up

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White flowers close-up

Poems Inspired By The Great North Wood

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Great North Wood, London, UK

Several of my poems have been inspired by the Great North Wood, one of the remnents of which is some 2-3 minutes walk from my home, http://www.wildlondon.org.uk/great-north-wood. I have spent many hours walking my dogs in Spa Woods, which form part of The Lawns, https://www.croydon.gov.uk/leisure/parksandopenspaces/parksatoz/the-lawns.

This afternoon I came across several volunteers from The Great North Wood/The Friends of Spa Woods engaged in conservation. A bonfire was going and invasive plants (laurel introduced in the Victorian era) was in the process of being removed to prevent it from stifling the growth of native flora.

The wonderful thing about The Lawns is that it was left to the local community and it is maintained by volunteers, who do excellent work to ensure that it remains a real oasis, which can be enjoyed by dog walkers and anyone in search of a little peace and tranquillity.

Below are examples of those poems of mine which have been influenced by my proximity to (and connection with) The Great North Wood:

The Path Through The Woods – https://newauthoronline.com/2017/04/03/k-morris-reading-his-poem-the-path-through-the-woods/
Wood In The Rain – https://rhymepoetry.wordpress.com/2017/05/21/wood-in-the-rain/
Owl – https://newauthoronline.com/2016/07/17/owl-2/
An Owl Hunting – https://newauthoronline.com/2016/03/31/an-owl-hunting/

My Interview on Croydon Radio (an update and an apology)

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Apologies to any of my readers who tuned in to hear me at 5:15 pm today on Croydon Radio. My interview was scheduled to take place at 5:15, however it occurred at 5:41. For anyone who missed my interview and would like to hear me discussing my collection of poetry, “Refractions”, I understand a podcast will be available on the Croydon Radio website over the next few days, (http://croydonradio.com/).

Kevin

Ball

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A child plays ball below.
A long time ago
I lay in bed
The same sound running through my head.
The thud of ball on wall
Is all I recall.
The ball is now still
As evening falls over Beulah Hill.
—

As I wrote this, a child and an adult played ball in the garden below my home. The sound brought to mind lying in bed at boarding school (I was sick), as children played football in the playground below my window. The poem was penned today (as the game took place).

The Path Through The Woods

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The path taken less often than I should,

This tranquil place through a nearby wood.

A spot with trees for walls

Where sunlight through the branches falls.

An oasis from the urban din

I find a quiet place within.

An inner space where the heart can be still,

A peaceful spot on this wooded hill.

 

—

 

The path to the road ascends.

A cloud of gloom on me descends.

I must return to this rented land

Where advertising hordings stand.

A world where empty vessels make most noise,

And people play with broken toys.