Words by A Wensley

Ode to a daffodil Your slender stalks march  silently              into                    Spring All trumpets blazing! Declaring brighter days ahead Like a jazz break Punctuating a misty blues LP. You are as yellow as the yolk, Rising like the sun, On my morning toast - And just as nourishing. A Wensley 7.03.26 Othona, Burton Bradstock

The Lyricals** of Lady’s Combe  A dramatisation of recollections of Ralph Hoyte's tale to us poets of when he was visited by the lady of the well, in Lady Combe, near Dowsborough on the Quantocks; the reason for us all being in this room now, here together at Words in Watchet as The Quantock Poets. Written in the poetic style of 'Christabel Released' - in tribute to Ralph for his support on our group's poetic journey. Voice 1 (Angela, narrator and Voice 3 - the Lady) Here we find the poet walking Retracing steps his fellows talking Descending through these green surrounds Whortleberries, blush-blue the grounds. ‘tween sessile oaks the snakes do writhe Bearing witness sleek and lithe His mind it wanders as mists hang low Dewy, wet, scene set? We go… Further, deeper to the well Hark what’s that? Ssh time will tell… Voice 2 (Ralph) Here I find the lady whispering Mists do hide her sultry glistening A slant of light through trickling glade Finds my face awash with shade (3)...

Grow, Growing, Grown Your small hand in mine I walked you to school daily, gaily, Bright red cardigan, grey pinafore Shiny black shoes and white socks. Your time to grow. In a navy blazer paired with a grey pleated skirt (Max 10cm above the knee), I sent you off to secondary House tie, blue blouse and grey socks Growing, growing, gone. You get to wear a short skirt now With a denim jacket  and any top you fancy. Your hands are still small But they're holding someone else's. A Wensley 26.02.2026

Leader I'm wondering who made you Leader, You who had the patriarchal balls to say "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" When a woman asked for justice, for the sexually abused. I'm wondering who made you Leader, You who had the ice-cold dominance to call a Mother A "domestic terrorist", "no angel", When a woman loved thy neighbour, to death. I'm wondering who made you Leader, You who had the conclusive transparency to say It was your staff who were at fault,  When a woman, and her husband, were racially abused. I wonder who'll make you Leader, I wonder who'll make you Leader. A Wensley 8.02.2026

 The Peace Paradox of Kalaallit Nunaat In Primary School in the Western world we learn the names of continents and our countries are marked out with lolly-stick flags stuck together with pva glue. We are taught to pin our dreams safely to soft, cork-boarded maps, and sail across peaceful waters in triangle-shaped boats into circular suns by means of our ever-expanding imaginations. — To these children Greenland is an icy island in the Arctic Ocean, perhaps where Father Christmas lives, near the North Pole. In Secondary School in the Western world we learn topographical terms, the names of native cultures and the ways in which our countries made their marks on history as leaders of the free world, including slavery, wars and alliance building. We’re taught to dream like Martin Luther King did and to question the norm, to build a better future for our own children. — To the next generation Greenland is marked out as an island of peace in a sea of troubles; an example of how historica...

Strolling, heed the call of the robin, singing, Ascending, shrill over the soar-roar of the M5 tarmac - The Willow Man strides on, weathered, withered, Forever reaching - Hold me in your hopeful embrace, Like a Guardian, of Space. A Wensley 17.01.2026