The Old Burrow




The Wayfarers wait


At the edge of wandering,

Content and laden 

With Untold tales

The wayfarer’s wait.


Here at the edge,

 Quiet shadows glide, 

A seamless change of set

We are both the actors,

 and the audience


Enjoy the show.







In all the world

I love our solitude the best

the deep warm dark

of this long forgotten

brings my heart to its resting place

and you bear

and all the world

'is' my soul


Here are just a few snippets - I will add more as Time permits but he's hard to get hold of these days.

The Kings beard


The king stood tall amidst his beard

A hundred feet or so,

 And though his toes were out of sight

A walking he would go


More clumbsy than a Troll in winter

And twice as blind at that,

He tripped o’er turrets and trees and houses

And nearly squashed a cat


‘Father’ I said ‘you must take care

The kingdom is under threat,

Your big ears are blocking out the sun

And you’re  front page of the gazette’


‘Surely not he boomed and hollered

Its only a little stroll,

It’s not my fault my legs are long

My mother was a Troll


‘It’s true’ I said ‘grandma was indeed

Very very huge,

But to call her a Troll, well don’t you think

That might be a little rude?’


‘Well it must be my old Papa’ he slurred

As his beard tangled in his toes

‘His pipe was as big as a chimney pot

And so was his bloody nose’


‘Nonsense!’ I shouted, 'you're drunk’ I said

‘Stop being such an arse

You've been eating too much chocolate cake

And drunken ale by the cask’


‘Belch’ the King replied 

And his cheeks turned rather red

Then I took my Fathers hand


And I marched him off to bed.


Pic coming soon :)

The Blackbird King


 Blackbird at dawn

Crown of the morn

Still starlit eyes

Sing forth the day