Words by A Wensley

 The May Queen and her Jack in the Green Blessed union; Oh May Queen and your Jack in the Green, Come with colour, paint the scene; Leaves unfurl and blossom bloom Life spring forth o' Earth Mother's' womb. Oh fertile be the lands of Summer Levels flood but riseth never To the top o' Glastonbury Tor. For Avalon, a portal-door To all the lands ancient holds fast,  Greens the Men, breathes song, spells cast: "Air my breath & fire my spirit Earth my body, water my blood"* Traditions here be grown on trees Then danced around by maidens, freed, Of modern ways, Oh May Queen days!  Maypole ribbons intertwine, Drum beats, hearts beat, Yours and mine. A Wensley 3.05.2024 *the song of the green men as they carry the pole...credit to the songwriter https://youtu.be/Gpdn13HL9vI?si=1vsBFISlrziXjvVn

 Golden Years 💛 💛  1974: The year of Red Rum And Abba’s Waterloo.  And also, more importantly,  The year that Mum and Dad Got married.  50 years ago, on the 15th of April,  Mum walked elegantly up the path  to Winsford Church in her scalloped-sleeved white dress,  Arm in arm with her Father Henry To be wed,  with her bridesmaids, two of Dad's sisters,  Pat and Lucy,  looking the height of fashion in their polyester turquoise and yellow ruched-sleeved dresses... ...And Dad, likewise,  Seventies-swaggered up the same path in his burgundy flared suit and sideburns  with his best man Gerald.  Since then they've walked their path together,  as happy now as they were back then,  if not more so.  It's been a walk that's taken them Through Exmoor’s combes and valleys; The rocks of Lynmouth and Tarr Steps Bridging their love of the great outdoors.  They've walked through fields of toil,  Dad ploughin...

  Our new Quantock Poetry Group website is now live!  quantockpoetrytrail.uk  This new website contains everything you need to know to access our new poetry trail app and soundscape walks plus has a dedicated page for each poet's poetry.  You will find all my contributions to this project here.   A broadsheet of a selection of our poems has also been produced and is now available via Brendon Books, Taunton, Somerset Libraries (Taunton/Nether Stowey/Watchet) and some of our local churches and village halls throughout the Quantock Hills (East Quantoxhead, Kilve, Holford) - to name but a few!

 Love  Love is a bird with fledgling wings Love is a twisty-turny thing Love is a-floating, as light as a feather Love shares horizons; flying alone and together Love is emphatic, empathic and kind Love is a stretching, a meeting of minds Love is a way through the wind and the rain Love holds your hand when all you feel is pain Love is an island with waves on the shore Love is a feeling of longing for more Love is a girl standing in front of a boy Love is the reason, for light and for joy Love is forgiveness, love is embrace Love is for giving, and peace over face Love is a genuine wish to believe Love is a blessing, a gift to receive Love is a pairing, like a fork and a knife Love is a grace-led, faith-filled life.  A Wensley 11.07.2023

20/21st Century Gentry  (or A ballad of East Quantoxhead 1979-2023)  Being brought up, as a small village mouse: The landlord, Sir, in his big house,  My Father working on the land,  My Mother caring, soft of hand -  I had no need, no want of things, Felt joy in all that nature brings.  Our summer days passed on the tops of round bales, Making perfume from flowers, racing woodlice and snails,  While Dad's calloused palms were crossed hard for pay,  Time taken in lieu, few holidays away.  We don't regret our youth and teens,  Building dens and damming streams Freedom calling on the breeze,  Sinking in mud, right to our knees,  Out playing games til the moon was up Drinking squash and making wups. Then back to school for the next term,  Til we were old enough to yearn; Buses to school through country lanes Hours we won't get back again -  But, good friendships made and books well read,  No smartphones then to blur ...

Human strata Layer upon layer, We are but human strata, Gradually wearing away the stories of our past. Yes, you may crumble with the relentless tide,  But in that earth-shattering, Earthquake moment so long ago now,  You held your own!  Your strata are there for all to see, You are truth, solidified forever. Proof that beneath every grass-topped clifftop, (Underneath your superfluous clothes),  There's depth, there's colour, There's a story to be told, Each layer a life!   A time once lived, Is never forgotten. At these cliff-edges in life, Time protrudes through the earth Like an uprising, Demonstrating the power within us all -  To show our inner core! Bare it with pride in the most violent of weathers, When you feel most battered by the waves,  For exposed, you're at your most beautiful. For exposed, you live out your truth. A Wensley East Quantoxhead 2022

  Skeletal Solstice  December: Ice begins to form o'er Autumn's gloriously golden late-turned landscape, Fronds of burnished bronze bracken fear-recoil;  their penetrable hollow stems,  product of a long, drought-scorched summer,  scream vulnerability now. Yet, the veins of the copper-coloured beech leaves,  adorned with Jack's frosty glitter, shine, as if to mock the plant and human-life beneath them. Skeletally-strong, they and many others, have endured many winters, Witnessed the cycle of nomadic souls who venture these treacherous paths On such cold yet invitingly wistful, mist-filled days, Their thick bark coats shielding layer upon layer of ecstasy and tears. Muscle-memory ignites, skin to skin contact, I breathe them all in, And wrapping my arms around your confidence As the sun sets o'er the shortest day, I feel heaven. I was unable to visit you, dear tender beech this Solstice, For I fell at Jack's gate - his path sealed my fate, My pate-safe elbow...