Hugh Town, St Mary’s, Isles of Scilly


Watercolour on Saunders Waterford Rough paper, 9×11″

Painted plein air in July 2016

This is the view from Porthcressa Beach.


A Requiem for War

We honour those who gave their lives
In battles past, and now, for liberty.
We think of them with reverence but with grief
That it came time to take this dreadful step.
There must have been just wars, I think,
And freedoms won from tyranny and vice.
But as we think of wars that now abound
It seems that they arise from hatred strong
And bitter gall against another race.
Desires for power, and gain of others’ lands
Are how men grasp since Adam’s fall.
They spring from deep within the soul of man
And give away the fact that we are base
And cannot live in peace and grace with all.
O wretched men! What makes you go to war?
Why think you that to fight will solve all ills?
How future stands we cannot know for sure.
The inmost sense is that our path lies waste,
But we can only hope that sanity prevails
To bring accord upon this broken

A Sonnet for Autumn

This time of year the grass grows green from brown
And flowers fade, from summer’s glory torn.
The fields show bare, shorn of their fruitful crown.
Migrating birds are gone to countries warm.
It is the time to fix for winter chill,
To sweep the fire, to stock the larder bold
With treats, to make the season such as will
Lighten the days that lie amongst the cold.
Mem’rys there are of days so long and bright,
Of garden seats, and time to feel the sun,
Of tea and cake with friends who bring delight,
When bees search for their store of honey won.
Do not despair for autumn brings its share
Of beauty to the land,

Poems at Rosanna’s

Grass glows emerald, sky is azure blue,
Flowers abound, with hungry bees around.
Friends gather now for sharing thoughts
On gardens and nature’s glories
From poets long dead, and those of present too.

The shade of low trees is welcome
As we read our choices in the sun
And we are settled in this peaceful place.
How good to think of gardens in this garden home!

It seems so fitting for this precious time
In summer’s height when winter’s far behind;
An hour of serenity for our later years.
How skilful those whose lines speak best of love
Of nature’s bounty showered on mortals here.

Their words ring loud and clear
And lead us on to loftier peaks of grace.
Best time of life is this for thinking thus
When clamour of work lies far behind.

Time to reflect, to challenge, and to dream
Of gardens that enhanced their joy of true living.
For some, the words of others cause the pen to write
ords of their own expressing delight of sense.
A journey of pleasure comes through thoughts declared
And friends agree that this has been a happy time.

A Book Lover’s Celebration

A life without books is a sad contemplation.
No food for the soul and no hope for the mind.
The days would pass by with great desolation
And what would I do with nothing to find
In pages past written or penned at this time.

But joy there re books, both fiction and fact
To stimulate thought and cause me to wonder.
I read and rejoice at words with no lack
And thankfully think on the skill of the writers’
Magnificent use of the language’s bounty.

My bookshelves are full so what shall I do?
There’s always the floor but is that quite fair
When temptation arises to buy something new
And I wish and I want much more than I dare
To buy and to own for the pleasure is mine?