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    Poetry Born of Water
    Poetry Born of Water
    Poetry Born of Water
    Ebook178 pages55 minutes

    Poetry Born of Water

    By James Hathersage

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A collection of over 60 poems on the theme of water. The first section of the book deals with largely inland water and waterways. There is a section containing several sea shanties followed by a collection of maritime poetry. As with other examples of this authors work there are hidden meanings and more than one poem is allegorical. The author, who was born less than 300 yards from the North Sea, has drawn on experiences serving in the Royal Navy, and subsequently sailing more than 23,000 sea miles, including a further 6,000 miles of inland waterway navigation. With a Grandfather who served time as a ship's Captain with a Master's Certificate in sail and steam, one could almost say that the sea was in the author's blood.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJames Hathersage
    Release dateOct 6, 2020
    ISBN9781393086338
    Poetry Born of Water

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      Book preview

      Poetry Born of Water - James Hathersage

      1

      Willow Brook Pool.

      ––––––––

      Walking Willow Meadow

      brings you down to Willow Brook,

      Then strolling down beside the flow

      to take a closer look,

      In front of you the water spreads

      to make a sheltered pool,

      Guarded by a small brick dam

      to hold those waters cool.

      -

      Someone set those bricks across

      to make a home for trout,

      The rings upon the surface

      show that brownies are about,

      Stocked with nature’s bounty,

      Such generosity,

      And is there such a word to use

      as ‘fortuosity’?

      -

      I sit and watch reflections

      of an overhanging bough,

      That ripples in the trout rings

      like the furrow from a plough,

      I toss a little crust of bread

      upon the crooked glaze,

      And watch it snaffled from below

      in my contented gaze.

      -

      Some willow leaves of autumn shades

      can spiral from above,

      Hither, thither on the breeze

      like tiny turtle doves,

      They dive across the old brick weir

      when water takes their course,

      To join the chuckling Willow Brook,

      Twixt rock and sedge and gorse.

      -

      Yet the pool remains dependent

      on its stalwart, brick built dam,

      All headers battered backwards

      ‘gainst the winter water’s ram,

      So stolid, standing here a hundred

      years and maybe more,

      But none can tell for certain

      what the future holds in store.

      ***

      2

      Roses by the ‘Cut’

      ––––––––

      By mallard, moorhen, coot and swan,

      The Narrow Boat glides gently on,

      Through waters still, by reed shoots green,

      A ‘Cut’ in landscape all serene.

      Yet suddenly a change of scene,

      A cultivated lawn, well preened.

      A rose bed then adorns the bank,

      To scarce give mind the time to thank

      such rose blooms in their grand array,

      To end this sultry summer’s day.

      The Narrow Boat’s gloss colours gleam,

      Reflecting roses in their sheen,

      Bright roses red and roses white,

      So stunning in the low sun’s light.

      Quite suddenly the sight is gone,

      Though in my memory lives long,

      The Narrow Boat glides gently on,

      By mallard, moorhen, coot and swan.

      ***

      3

      A Summer’s Day Alone.

      ––––––––

      I board the rowing boat alone,

      The painter I untie,

      And give a strong but steady push,

      To glide to where I’ll lie.

      -

      My anchor is a string and stone,

      My driver just one oar,

      My company is solitude,

      And I’ll not ask for more.

      -

      My fishing rod laid gently down,

      The line once round my toe,

      I raise my hands up to the sky,

      Behind my head they go.

      -

      On the thwart I so recline,

      My eyes closed for the sun,

      As off into my other world,

      My troubled thoughts may run.

      -

      The lake shows scarce a ripple,

      With no ripples in my mind,

      I’ll contemplate my soul at last,

      With solace I may find.

      ***

      4

      A Bend in the River.

      ––––––––

      I can see the river bending,

      Turning gently right and left,

      Weaving through a changing landscape,

      Like some weaver’s silver weft.

      Reeds that guard the bank’s arising,

      Bordering a placid face,

      Bowed as soldiers to remember,

      Less so martial, more with grace.

      Trees that lean their leafy branches,

      Arching ‘cross the river’s breadth,

      Ripples over cloudy mud banks,

      Darkness hinting hidden depths.

      Closer draws the river’s curving,

      Underneath the plover’s wheels,

      In my rowboat left to wonder,

      What another reach reveals,

      Yet before the bend is entered,

      May I dream of what’s beyond?

      I cannot change what is to come,

      Without a magic wand.

      Just enjoy anticipation,

      Even though life’s jewels seem sparse,

      For what seemed a distant future,

      Has already come to pass.

      ***

      5

      A Game at Bridge.

      ––––––––

      Leant and bent, yet stood intent,

      Across an old bridge rail,

      Peering down, not yet content,

      Ensuring not to fail

      to first espy the leading edge

      of woody, leaf forsaken growth,

      Plucked deftly from a nearby hedge,

      Then gifted with a good luck oath.

      -

      To triumph you must play your part,

      Prepare the strategy and guile,

      That you can muster at the start,

      To pay off in a little while.

      It’s not just how you drop it in,

      At Pooh sticks, if you want to win!

      ***

      6

      Crossing to the Other Side.

      ––––––––

      Our little hamlet has no church,

      In yon village there it be,

      If you want to be at service,

      You’ll have need of me.

      -

      I’m ferryman across the river,

      I will ferry thee,

      To join the throng at

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