CONTEMPORARY POETRY

starstruck dreams

A fool and his money is soon parted

what becomes of the broken hearted

many a foolish words-spoken in jest

many an angry word spoken n blessed

Who rocks the baby in the cradle tonight

who says a prayer wipes a tear

then says goodnight sleep tight

There thunderstorms brewing

in the valleys of regret

where fools and vagabonds sigh

where all your dreams are just regrets

i saw the candle flicker in the dead of night

i saw the heartless dreamer walk the stage in sight

I heard the whispers of a starstruck fantasy

then i awoke and you were gone far away from me

the prophets sounded the rocking tune

the crowds that gathered smelt her cheap perfume

the lonely starstruck fool faded from your sight

then the music whispered and you'd gone into the night.

COMPASSIONATE STREET

yesterday i visited compassionate street

there were people rejoicing

everyone you would meet

there was food on each table

and alms for the poor

the elders of love

gave their all to the poor

there were handouts a plenty

of the tenderest love

with hugs for the lonely

and sadness was gone

i heard all the poets

sing only nice songs

the streets there were full

of happiness tunes

we all sang along

the piper he played

beneath a full moon

there were roses on doors

and welcomes within

no one there knew the horrors

of sin

i was blind like a soldier

wounded at war

the battle was over

but my heart it was sore

the angels of mercy

listened to me

as i pleaded for love

neath the compassionate tree

the children of destiny

were clothed in real gold

there were trinkets of silver

and no one felt old

the pains of the innocent

were sanctioned and free

when we danced in the light

of our sanctuary

the streets they were crowded though no one complained

as they danced in the puddles and sang in the rain

the dogs they were barking

and the cats went meow

i swore i saw a pig dance

and the ass take a bow.

CITY BACKSTREETS

i remember the city backstreets

the alleys where the kids did play

the rows of terraced houses

the street light across the way

i remember the cobbled streets

the little alleyways

the girls with curly hair

the cold and bitter winter days

i remember the tat man

the coal man who would call

the streets were full of laughter

the bouncing bats and balls

i remember the city bullring

the mount pleasant hill we walked

the weekend ride to malvern hills

the brimmys and their talk

i remember the ladypool road market

the indian bazaars

i loved the cannon hill park

the tulip festival and boats

the zoo and bbc pebble mill theatre

in my head i took these notes

i remember the skinheads

the lads who loved to play

the adventure playground was full then

in the summer holidays.

SONG N DANCE MAN

he was living on the edge

just waiting for the night

he knew his days were numbered

but he had seen the light

he rode this old box car

right from Tennessee

he was a singing dancing man

his name was jimmy lee

his harmonica it played a tune

as did his old guitar

he was destined to be famous

one day to be a star

he sang for all the ladies

wrote songs to set folks free

he rode the woods of Wyoming

though he roamed tennesee

his songs were all romantic

like the heartstrings of a pledge

his verse was ever joyful then

his voice was soft and low

he filled their minds with love and lust before the radio

his stories they were noble

his cause was rarefied

he smiled and you saw heaven

within his deep blue eyes.

 FRIENDSHIP

loneliness is a bitter track

from Ecstasy to hell and back

desperation is a long avenue

to travel down and search anew

hopelessness is a brutal ride

with fortitude as your only bride

as common to the common man

like winter frost

and summer sun

companionship is a friendly hand

to share your thoughts and understand

friendships are formed through bitter tears

a worry shared over the years

a friendly touch

a helping hand

a nod a wink

on common land

its OK mate

i understand.

MORNING AWAKES

get up and go in the morning

rest your body at night

sleep sound in your repose

every-things gonna be alright

hear the alarm bells ringing

there's dancing in the streets

the songs are full of laughter

from everyone youl meet

the sun comes out to greet you

there's heaven in her eyes

there's dreams ans wishes plenty

in all her lullabies

there's a shoulder there to cry on

some mothers son to share

a scarecrow in the meadow

swish backs at the fair

a robin redbreast greets you

a swan to ride your dreams

a river that keeps flowing

amongst the hills and streams

down in the valleys hideouts

where the thrush has built his nest

there's a rainbow on the skyline

its the place i love the best

where at rainbows valley

the rooster crows each morn

there's a songbird out a calling

is anyone at home.

COUNTRY DAYS

 cockleshell heroes on sandcastle bays

walks in the sunlight and children at play

grass in the meadows and cows in the corn

church steeples views and the country's remains

secluded places in forestry walks

farmers and yokels all durzet talk

tractors and trailers boys on the spree

gals in the haystack talking with me

cider with Rosie and kisses with Jane

warm handss to hold down country lanes

cow pats and tall grass and places to see

out in the country with Susie and me

pubs with thatched roofs and pints left to pull

tables of oak and beams running through

gardens of roses and music so sweet

oh to be young with the world at your feet

castles on hilltops with true purbeck views

walks in the country from wareham to Poole

air it is salty and wind it is free

rides on the ferry with Sandra and me

boys playing cricket against the church wall

gals playing hockey green knickers and all

lads playing hookey and gals telling tales

oh the weather was climate and the inks in the wells

schoolmasters cane and teachers best pet

out on the farm to eggs left to get

cockerels a crowing and the hens they did lay

out in the barn with heather and ray

all up at daybreak to see the new sun

all out a playing the lanes for to run

bicycles riding and gals for to chase

its all part of childhood in gods human race.

GYPSIES

I traveled those fairgrounds and all those great shows

to find me some gypsies that i ne'er did know

i searched for those kings with dark skin and more

with words that twer couse and hides saddle sore

i met with some tinkers and hawkers by trade

i met up with a teller of fortune and slaves

i mixed with the bests the Shaw's and the pride

of England's travelings circus with dark roving eyes

i glimpsed their fair world of satin and lace

with drapes that did flow n smiles pon their face

their ponies were wild and the dogs they did bark

they lit up their candles and lamps in the dark

their tales they were long and they gave me a thrill

their stories were old and they spun that great wheel

their vardos were tall ans their stew it was rich

they traveled this land through heathers and ditch

i was born with the look of a traveling man

they called me a gypsy wherever i am

my folks they were destined to warrant a wish

as they stumbled through life with the sign of the fish

the wheels they did roll and the pen it was wet

with fables and songs that flowed from their nets

their hair it was dark and their skin it was tan

their eyes looked you over and into the man

i never found kings or queens of my clan

i guess il remain just a traveling man

All poems on THE GYPSY POET are the work of

the poet Ray Wills apart from those with the poets name Written beneath.

WALKING IN THE SHADOWS

i walked in his shadow

he was a giant of a man

he wrote words of reason

he was a Dylan fan

he humbled his religion

built up his inner faith

he was a keeper of her doctrine

this man of love and grace

his hair was Grey and so distinguished

he wore a coat of arms

his legs were long and Strong

so were both his lean long arms

his face was fine n rugged

he loved the gals a few

he lived down at the crossroads

he played the guitar blues

his weapons were compassion

his heart was fine n true

he always listened to my fears

had time for me and you

he walked upon the highland plains

he loved a Scottish lass

she was his religion

he was very proud of that

his speech was eloquent and learned

his tones were soft and sweet

he married up in Edinburgh

she was a special treat

they called her lovely Linda

had roses around her door

he moved her down to Glasgow

afore he went to war.

FRIENDS

friends they come and go

like pictures in a travelling rodeo

they drift into your life

some stay

whilst others move and go away

the spinning wheel it runs its course

the drifting tides

the phantom horse

some stay for coffee

some for tea

others shape your destiny

the cards are set

the pack is shaped

the hand is played

you make your fate

you choose your path

you eat your cake

friends they ride the course each day

some walk the streets and alleyways

some conjure up some pleasantries

others praise your sonnets free

friends often a blessing in disguise

some are stupid some so wise

some can help you through a spell

abandoned hopes and wishing wells

candles flicker in the breeze

friends confess your every need

friends can lift you when your down

they shape your world

take away that frowns

friends are rare like angels wings

they make you laugh or make you sing

they know the reasons

they know your inner mind

friends are treasures

in your mind

SERVICE TO THE QUEEN

outside the kings fine castle

a stranger smoked his pipe

two busker's played their fiddles

upon a starry night

two guards were on the forecourt

an angel in her bed

two pillows of remembrance

with floral roses spread

far out in the distance

i heard a maiden sing

twas a night afore the wedding

the buds were in their spring

a night lark sang so merrily

a passing breeze did sigh

the knave was in the kitchen yard

eating humble apple pie

the king was drinking venison

the queen was sewing shoes

the princess was sleeping in her bed

i was on the loose

there were guards upon the palace tower

stars up in the sky

the moon in all its splendor

shone brightly on the stour

the castle steps were rugged stone

they bore beneath my feet

i made my way up to her room

no guardian did i meet

her room was bright and pleasant

with candles on the wall

a picture of Madonna

her bed was proud and tall

i whispered that i loved her

she stirred and smiled at me

her hair hung loose and lovely

her smile was fairy dust to see

she made a place beside her

we spent a night of lust

she married in the morning

as i went on my way

another service justified

another summers day

love bouquet

i sent my love a bouquet

flowers red and white

with blossoms of the sunlight

aromas of delight

i chose the finest garland

crafted out of trust

with petals that delighted

with a message full of love

i posted in the morning

when the birds did sing at dawn

when the frost was on the heathers

when the mice were on the corn

the hills were full of lambs at play

the grass was full of dew

the clouds were all like wooly balls

the songbirds sang for you

i crafted words of eloquence simplicity and thruth

i stenciled in the finest rose with ribbons painted blue

the lines were full of prose and verse

the stanzas sang a tune like springtime in the heaet of man

then i sent it off to you.

CONTEMPORY DREAMS

let me dream again amidst my contemporaries

let me ponder and acquaint myself within their reveries

oh let my passion flow with words of majesty

then please partake of prose within my deepest pleas

forsake my humble etchings and text that does not flow

with words of wisdom thankfulness within my poets show

render me a silent prayer then offer me a crust

take it upon yourself to read my words of trust

for poetry hides its tears within the sacred verse

humbled by Thanksgivings and writings from a curse

written by a foolish man with doctrines never erred

they read his many blessings than offered him a word

the battles of the vanguard were gathered around his throne

with leagues of vanquished soldier boys all lost and err alone

the drumbeats of humanity echoed across the shores

whilst sweet virgin gals gathered love and more

so to show the vagabonds and the jesters at the show

wherein the mighty troubadour wrote sonnets by the score

then whispered them to pretty girls whose minds had gone astray

along with their foolish flesh spread out on the hay

oh merriment of ecstasy was nowt but lust n pain

for love had fallen as destiny lost and gone again

for youth had put the world to rights along with words and rhyme

then gathered up their text of love the sailors left behind.

COWBOY COMES HOME

across the Rio grandee

the cowboy angel rides

a dollar in his pocket

a picture of his bride

four and twenty notches

marked upon his belt

his silver ware is dandy

and his spurs they are so hot

the sky at night is dark n grey

the moon is out of view

the troubled world he left behind

with many bad dreams too

the stetson that hes wearing

has seen a day or two

he thinks about her late at night

and in the morning dew

the river bank is wild with thorns

the water runs its course

his handle it is famous now

his manners they are worse

he killed a man in dodge that night

many years ago

they labeled him an outlaw then

he joined their wild west show

his hands were quick upon the draw

his love was quick n wild

with many gals in scattered towns

with many open doors N NONE OF THEM A BRIDE

he ventured in that territory

met her in a bar

she was sweet n pretty in that dress

out of it as well

nothing ventured nothing gained

she wrote and he obliged

married her a month ago

now hes coming home

to meet his LOVING bride

the thunder roared

the lighting cracked

all the birds took flight

the trail was nearing to an end tonight

his journey it was oer

he was coming home to freedom now

and the true love of that gal

EMPIRE DAYS

once we had an empire

we raided golden foreign shores

we gave them our religion

told them they were poor

we had two queens that ruled us

Victoria and Elizabeth the first

we discovered America

though we were really not the first

we sold the world through slavery

ruled the seven seas

won the wars of ships n sails

lord nelson had his victory

then Kitchener called us all to battle

we created concentration camps

we gave the world the Beatles

though of that we didn't boast

just stole the worlds great riches

then we had our tea and toast

we ruled the greatest empire

then we gave it all away

then we invited all the world

to live with us here today.

ENGLISH GENT

he was just a distinguished English gentleman

guess you know the type

always spoke politely and always did whats right

always tiffed his cap when he walked in a room

always gave up his chair for the Lady's too

he was the kind of gentlemen you saw in those films

those with Rex Harrison and Cary grant i assume

he always was polite and always joined the queue

never swore in public and lived by certain rules

he was just an old fashioned gentle guy

who always knew his place

washed his hands and always washed his face

probably went to public school and lived just by the rules

hes a lost generation now some say he was a fool

he was the last of his kind from the old school you know

he knew about good manners and listened to the radio

he always wore a suit and tie and carried an umbrella in his hand

though to the ladies he was a charmer and a distinguished gentleman

he wouldn't be seen in McDonald's or watching reality TV

he was a sporty sorta guy played cricket n drank tea

sported a mustache and cut his hair real neat

he wasn't into rock n roll and never liked the skiffle's beat

he read the times each morning with his bread n toast

had a flutter on the gee gees n loved Marilyn Monroe the most

he drank champagne and ate caviar n rode at the polo club

mixed with royalty and the upper class's n never entered a pub

he was part of the institution an Establishment real gent

he had a house in Chelsea n never had to pay no rent

his like are a rarity today but you can see them in the movies

or in some documentary they bring out to show old England

in 1953.

OH AMERICA

where are the hymns of fathers proud

the strands of days flown by

where are the tears and memories

the sorrow in your eyes

where are the words of Dylan now

those words that cant be bought

where are the dreams of yesterday

emblazoned on your shirt so right

where is the valor for the flag

the democracy of then

where are the visions of the night

the fluent flowing pen

where are the hopes and wisdom years

that Kennedy aspired

where are the dreams of children now

that generations left gone wild

oh America that greets the sun

the blanket on the ground

the prairie grass

the harvest moon

the words to make you proud

where noble quests do write a rite

whilst young men go to war

i wonder did you question

whats it all for

where frontier posts were planted

where bugles bore the dust

where trails were blazed across the land

its territories formed in trust

where bison's and the red man rode as one

then oil was made god

afore your setting sun.

THE FATHERS LOVE

they say that into each life

a little rain must fall

that love comes to those who wait

that grace stands waiting at the gate

they say that pride comes before a fall

that fate comes knocking at your door

i know you've heard it all somewhere before

they say that the lord knows when

he knows n counts our every hair

they say don't count your chickens afore their hatched

don't leave your door upon the latch

they say that charity begins at home

that it wasn't built in a day at Rome

they say many strange and wondrous things

the poets verse and the singer sings

they say that every cloud has a silver lining too

that one day the cows and ships will all come in

the shepherds delight is a red sky at night

red sky in the morning shepherds warning

they say all of these strange metaphors

then they write poetry about the moors

the sky at night

the stars and moon above

the wonders of the fathers love.

                          POETRY  composed by 

Poetry composed By The Dorset Poet  Ray Wills.

I am also known as The Gypsy Poet and The Durzet Baird.

In the following page I am pleased to present a liitle of my own work .

  For an in depth look at my range of poetry you can visit one of my poetry pages on this site.

See my CONTENTS list of all my pages to the left.

 A good cup of tea

it was a good cup of tea

the first of the day

when the dawn broke at morning

whilst the birdsong did play

it was a good cup of tea

i heard my love say

as she woke at the daylight

from sleep in the hay

it was a good cup of tea

fresh from the pot

with sugar and milk

just right

 not a lot

it was a good cup of tea

mild and so new

like the freshness of love

like the first morning dew.

Jesus the gypsy

Jesus was a gypsy

Savior without home

A wandering preacher Son of Man

who never was alone

He walked the streets and alleyways

the sands of desert storms

the places where the people were

he rarely was alone

he didn't have no buildings

no wealth of gold to store

just love and peace to share with man

fine clothes he never wore

he called the little children

he cited text its true

his words were simple doctrine

set out for me and you

They branded him a traitor

they hung him on a crosss

his truth's were bound in glory

his vision on man lost

all down through the ages

they built a church or two

to preach that war was valor

and led armies foolish fools

his grace was given freely

his words are cast in stone

his ideals misunderstood

his victories sound and good

Jesus was a gypsy

a traveler set free

he gave us hope and love of God

peace and liberty.

kangaroo mile-earls court

in kangaroo mile

they drop in from flights

they stay here each day

or they fly out at night

their flats are all bed sits

and their cafes are all dim

they all meet together

and make a great din

in kangaroo courts

and kangaroo place

you can see their all Aussie's

with the smiles on the face

they gather in earls court

paint the town red

then they walk back the mile

and go back to bed

they pass through our city

they pass through our town

then they decide they like it

and stay around

they light up our province

they shout down our streets

but their the nicest of people

you ever should meet.

POETS SONG

The voice of youth spoke for all humanity

it was the voice of freedom and the song of liberty

it was a call to justice and a cry for peace

a song of no more wars and a reason to be free

the radios played it all by day and night

the kids all listened and their elders stood in fright

the poet spoke and sang the melody

across the wastelands to the home of liberty

the guitar strummed and the harp it sang its toll

the reasons for war were no longer set in Stone

the reasons questioned and the answers plain to see

the troubadour was young then and his message set for you and me

though the voice was old and the man was still a youth

the words hit home and to those old in tooth

the crowds they gathered and the protest age begun

there were sparrows singing in the trees

when the world was young

it was the age of change and the Beatles moved the scene

a young man with a vision and an old mans dream

a Jewish song smith and a wordsmith to the end

his words and music moved the generation

though he was just a poor kid then

the years have rolled yet the poet still played

to crowded galleries and millions records made

he penned the love songs that mothers sang

the words of children in the playground

as a new age began

THE MAN IN BLACK

they called him the man in black

he sang so many sad songs that we lost track

he sang with elvis and bobby dylan too

he was a real man and a jewel

he played in the prisons

he played on the plains

everyone knew him by his name n fame

he was a highwayman on the run

he was cool and so much fun

he sang the good old cowboy songs

the ones you whistle as you stroll along

he made films with the top movie stars

he was himself a legend

though in his younger days he used the bars

he was johnny be good

johnny be cool

but he was a christian too

he was as tough as granite

a gentle giant too

he played the stages of the world

often with his back turned

which was seen as being quite absurd

he played with the carter n cash families

though it was at the grand ole oprey where he made his mark

hes down in history he was mystereious n dark

yet up there in the stars

BLOODY WAR

BLOODY WAR

they hand out the bibles

before they go to war

they ascribe the salvation

then kill of all the poor

they recite the scriptures

say God is on our side

then they drop the bomb again

they say God talks to them

and not unto the jew

they sat God is with them

and not with Allah too

they spin the wheel of destiny

send soldiers off to war

they pray in church together

ascibe the battles won

they say God be with you

my appointed sons

they wave the flag of freedom

then deny men of their rights

then they pray together through the long long nights

they march for justice and democracy

they say God willing

all men will be free

they plan the wars of justice

then kill three million more

then the call it freedom

but its just a bloody war.

 " When A Poet Becomes Stagnant"

When a poet becomes stagnant

They brush away their cares

Hiding behind childhood and tiny wares

When a poet becomes stagnant

He does not want to know

If you or I exist or if we want to go

When a poet becomes stagnant

She wants to understand

But the buttons on her coat

Are all tangled in her hand

When a poet becomes stagnant

Its called insanity

Driven by humanity and dieing and not free

Only a true poet of the cosmos

Can here her song begin

It usually happens in her favorite time of year

Somewhere in mid spring

BRENDA WILLS

modern day myths

its all global warming they'll have us believe

guess you'll get swine flu each time you sneeze

 its snowing in Georgia and Washington too

there's poppies in afghans principalities too

they took us for suckers and told us a lie

so they could build new cars and get us to buy

they offered us monies to trade in our old

then they said global warming but its still dam cold

pharmaceutical companies have sure made big bucks

 they sold us the vaccines and then said good luck

whilst babies are dying in haitis shores

they'll send in the troops that's what there for

its a crazy predicament with spins and new lies

they sale us the FEAR then just wait for cries

 the terrorist plots are the reason to fear

so they scan us all daily and the headlines all cheer

the history books tell it its there for to see

how the Indians died for your liberty

how cultures were shattered when freedoms set free

the capitalists plans and the blind men cant see 

The back streets of Poole

The squires lived in the back streets of Poole

with no boots on their feet but had hearts that were true

 the lamplighter lady she lit up each morn

so bright and so early to wake you at dawn

 the streets there were narrow and the bread they all shared

 there were skipping of ropes and singing of bairnes

the docks they were rich there and the fishes were sweet

 with cockles and winkles and rags on their feet

the rag and bone man rode the streets every week

 with horse cart and shouting to all he did greet

there were neighbor's a plenty to help you in need

with cheerful rich chatter and words oh so sweet

 the noblemen passed there and rarely did gain

 access to the comforts of their little lanes

 there were sailors a courting and maids at your door

 kisses and promises and soldiers at war

 the streets then were cobbled though none did complain

 for the richness was theirs down those narrow lanes

 with families large and mothers to gain

with another babe wanting in another broods name

 the railways they came their from old Waterloo

with stories of gentlemen said how do you do

but the streets they were poor and the children they died

all for the sake of a rich mans wealth tide

"Spring Time Begins"

Spring has sprung

Grass birds bees have begun

Yellow daffodils lay bare

The wild is full of the bouncing hare

Another small life begins

As the seasons change and bring in

Life is new in the wild

Thats why we love our child

Tiny hands pray for peace

Minds of torment want a release

Look around and take in

The best time of year is the spring

BRENDA WILLS

 SCHOOL DAY ANTHEMS

We sang those school day anthems

 those rich colonial tones

with market town and schoolboy zest

we were rich amongst the heath

 and wore our Sunday best

the bells did ring so loud and free

with St Marys choir and tones

 we walked the lanes of wareham then

 it seemed so long ago

 the school it had its prayer times

its school days race and pride

 with trophies on display then

the corridors were wide

there was once a farmyard pigsty

 with porkers and saddle back gained

with walks to wareham market

 stroll down old pound lane

the gals called around on Saturdays

 we played the walls to chase

 with touch and kiss and blarney talk

though folks still did know their place

the trees were rich in leaves then

 the hay was rich in tone

 whilst rabbits scurried on the downs

us lads took our ways home

though i kissed heather on the green

 gave chase to Mary Jane

we fought wars upon the verges then

built hideouts and great dens

the farmer samways daughter Caroline

 was sweet and her kisses twer so true

 though the cockerel's crowed each morning light

said boys how do you do

the walks to creech was awesome

with squirrel chase on the way

the peacocks were so handsome

 the gorse was rich with briar

the gypsies camped at londego

their vardos and campfires

the sun came up each morning

the cuckoo cooed at stobourough green

i was rich in dialect

and kissed Angela the BEST

for she was to be the new may queen

the walks each weekend to corfe

the village so old n quaint

with rustic castle on the hill

we kids did all frequent

we slid down the hill on cardboard

rode the Ferris wheel

we danced amongst the bracken lads

 lizards for to steal

the lanes were winding then

 and the bridge did span the stream

 we counted all our blessings

then we squandered all our dreams

WHAT IF

What if all were told were but nonesense

 to set a trap for fools

what if science was wrong all along

and wisdom but a ruse

what if God was in his heaven

the angels and the saints

were gathered there in such a celestral place

 what if the earth was full of nature

 global warming was a lie

what if the terrorists were friends

what if all were told were lies

what if the world was one big family

called the human race

no colour creed or strangers

no turn of the toss win or lose your face

what if the towers were blown from inside

 the kelly doctors death was just a murder

by the powers to stop thruth from being blest

what if the wars were all dictated and freedom was a lie

 whilst screening at the airports and making afghans opium pies

what if fools like me were wise men

to talk such childish chat

would we be ignored as fools or sent out for to bat

 what if lennons words were thruth and dylan was not a myth

would you listen to the music or take anothers rift

what if poets words were cast in rheteroic full of trust

would you wander in the romance or chose to squander lust

what if men and old redeemers were settled in the sands

where time walks with justice free again where lovers all hold hands

PLAY

oh the exuberance of play

 the wanderlust of childhood upon a summers day

 the run to greet the morning the joys of day to be

the flowers in the orchards boughs

when love was on the leas

the carousel of merriment twixt the frolics fun

the wayward movements of the now

 when play times just begun

the sharing of the country walks

the pleasant country scenes

 the sweetness of the morning breeze

 when you did as you pleased

the merriment of laughter

the sharing of the now

 when childhood grasped the nettle

when farmers milked the cows

the apples and the leaves of green

the run to greet the day

 when nature was in its glory

 when children were at play 

Westbourne tales

Where churchill fell close to the chines

in westbournes bridge where folks drank wine

 with damaged frame and broken ribs

 he oftimes came to conker ridge

 his friendly aunt lived at canford lodge

her guestly name was born in sods

here vagrants walked the fields and rode the land

in caravans and jovial bawdy gypsy bands

 the viaducks and briges spanned

 with red brick walls built by irish hands

where labourer craftsmen and newtown lads

 blessed the soil and kissed the flesh neath bonnie rags

where noble lords and common crew

rode the docks at olde town poole

where squires did feast upon their gain

 whilst barefoot children ran the lanes

school days and more

There was a little tuck shop around the corner from branksome heath

with liqurice of skipping ropes and gaudy sweet false teeth

 i went to school at branksome heath when i was a small wee lad

i drew pictures of naked ladies then oh i was so very bad

we waved the flags on empire day played marbles on the ground

 picture pastcards we called flicks we listened to the band

 we often walked to school or rode the number eight

 we had those rucksacks on our backs parents waved us from our gates

we said our prayers there daily sang the schools own song

 we all had recreation and we all just got along

our teachers all were wise men we recited maths tables and weather then we knew our place and more

 we always did as we were told

 or wed all get what for

STAN COLLIER

Stan Collier worked on priddle farm

 when hours were long and men grow strong

in higher barnsleys woods and leas

where he milked the cows

 and took the milk for you and me

 that cottage close to wooded lanes

that twist and turned to wind yon frames

 where zunner boys did run the lanes

fishing and playing childhoods games

the dogs did bark and mice did hide

 the rivers twisted through delightfull countryside

where cars rare rode the country lanes

 where church bells rangs in time to horses manes

 here dogs gave chase in packs of ten

to hunt the fox to please squires men

 where priddles farm was rich in lore

where Stan Collier worked and planted all

here cocks did crow and boys did boast

 of girls they dchased and loved the most

where wimborne bridge did ride the stour

as a child i holidayed there for many an hour

 where maket town each thursday noon

we gathered to seek fun and gaze at silver spoons

where heifers sold and pigs did snort

where farmers sold and home did brought

their spoils of days not long ago

 when farmers put on a wondrous country show

FARMERS BOY

Yesterday I took a walk down winding tracks

Where birdsong greets the mornings realms

Where reeds and heathers do bestow

A pleasure garden all on show

I gazed on hills spread so green

Where lambs and seagulls paint the scene

Where clouds of cotton wool do show

 The joys of life all spead below

Across the heaths of rabbits runs

Where fox gave chase whilst farmers sons

Sang all their songs like folks in prayer

 and wallowed in the beauty there

 I spied the tractor oer the soil

The fields of grain across the moors

The lilac trees and nettles sweet

Where tramps and ladies trod their feet

The seas of spray where fish do dance

To sands of time and pebbles chance

To sailboats riding on the spray

Where the sun shines bright across the bay

The church tower clock doth chime the hour

 Their bells do ring across the stour

Whilst zunners run from school this day

Whilst lovers frolic in the hay

I spy the village pond and old water pump

the five barred gate where walkers humped their rucksacks

 and stout poles of fine regard

Just a stone throw away from farmers yard

Where the gander geese gave chase to mary jane

Whilst the dogs did bark and lords did monies gain

 Where stoned wall walks were set in sand

Where Hardy wrote and Barnes statue still doth stand

Where the market hawkers gave full guest

Whilst us zunners ran amongst the bests

Where todays pubs and cafes do imitate

Those histories of landed gentrys fates

 The walks I took that summers day

Across the purbecks right of way

Where travellers rest and shouldrs of muttons rich

In its histories lessons spread across the ditch

While warblers sang and fat lizards squirmed

The adders and the shiny slow worms

The master poet was lost in joy

When I was but a child and farmers boy.

NO BORDERS

I wanna live in a country with no name

no border's and crossings and each man speaks the same

where poor and rich are never known

and every man is another Mr Jones

I don't want to see another union flag

another road to glory with crosses steeped in sand

 where guns and idols are all the same

 i want to be free where victory and loss are one and the same

 i don't want to see the other mans lies

or hear the words of Truth twisted into souls of spies

 i want to live in a place where each man is the same

 and yet prosperity travels in an-others name

i can see you smiling and your look of shame

with no more wars and no other man to blame

 i can hear those reasons swept down through the times

 like a slow wind blowing and a children's jingly jangly rhyme

you say it wont ever happen you say lets not pretend

where all dreamers in this world of god and friends

where each mans raiment is an-others shield

and the light of peace is yet so unfulfilled

i want to live in a country where the good are you and me

 where seasons change and theres hope and truth and liberty

where continents and countries are no longer cast in shame

 where every mans my brother and every words not steeped in shame

 i wanna see the happiness of black and white

the hope and prosperity shared and the fruit so ripe

 no border country's to fight for fame

and no more wars bled in gods own name

ENGLISH JOURNEY

England sure does look beautiful today

 with lots of country scenes

horses in paddocks in the land of the queen

whizzing along at the speed of a king

homes of the lords and forests of green

looking at homelands with villages free

 land of the nobles free liberty

traveling to highlands where kings fought for crowns

sweet little hamlets and high rise new towns

 rivers and bridges with rambling rose

little thatched cottages and scenes so remote

wayside inns standing with willows and birch

oak trees and promises gifted cart horse

 seasides and holidays spread on the sands

rainfalls and sunshine sounds of steel bands

 Church bells that ring and clocks that still chime

winding tracks that still take you to heaven and back

 waterfalls ans rocky caves

 hillside castles making waves

trumpet majors and kids that play

 each and every Saturday

pillar boxes red and loud

 London buses and taxis proud

coach and horses fox hunts packs

with red and green on horse back

swiftly did the journey end

with cockney poet lets pretend 

MARBLE DAYS/Carey Wareham

I played marbles as a kid

upon the green where we kids lived

 we played those circles games and more

 just over from the village hall

the grass was green and the daisies grew

 we rolled that glass with gusto too

 with alleys and shiny spheres of glass

 we thought the day would always last

our friends and family all came to play

no PC world in those old days

our fun and laughter was roustabout

as we rolled those marbles in and out

 the sounds of clinking hit the air

 as we won with richness joy

or lost in pure despair

 with our ice cream faces and our red cheeks glow

 we rolled those marbles and let them go

the little green it still is there

close by the railway line and local fair

the Carey woods and warehams leas

where as small kids we scuffed our knees

gone are those days of revelry's

when marbles kept us from our teas

with alley bags and clinking glass

we rolled those marbles slow and fast

our aim was true and skilled with ease

 as we sat their on our knees

with scores and winning ways to share

we took our time and said our prayers

THE CLIPPYS

Once we had conductors on the buses

when the buses were on time

 no standing in the lines then

to pay your fare and mine

there was no need to worry

 about the teds and more

they turfed them off the buses

or gave them a real what

for the buses were on time then

 so swift and friendly too

we caught them at the station

 or on the roads from Poole

up and down the stairways

 ring that bell and yell

send picture postcards of the sands

 all those seaside smells

the views of Poole's big harbor

trips down sea view lanes

where the fir cones are a growing

 purbeck sites around the bend

           JUST THE TICKET

Insanity rides the mail train

heading for the coast

with his memories in the basement

 and his words lost in the moat

 somewheres in the distance

where lonesome lovers call

there's a singer singing loves songs

like a letter to st Paul

There's a lonesome whistle blowing

 through the wasted fields of time

 where the minstrel boy lays sleeping

 having drunk of too much wine

theirs a damsel in distress somewheres

 he could hear her in the night

 with her bosom flowing freely

and her dreams shut up real tight

the birds were flying southwards

headed for the coast

 he looked out his railways windows

out into the night

the stars they were a twinkling

and the moon was in full phrase n bright

there were couples there a swooning

and they gave him a swift wave

the music that he heard that night

 was lost in blues and jazz

there were people in the carriages

 and children being bad

he looked into his pocket

and took out a memory

he read the picture postcard

then ordered his last tea

the porter was a wise man

he saluted him and then

pretended not to know him

 but he knew him way back when

 one time in their childhood

they had swung upon a star

 with moonbeams bought in a fairground

 and brought home in a jar

the train it stopped at Zanzibar

 or was it Waterloo

the station master took his ticket

and said how do you do

PROTEST

Dont want to protest anymore

 about some war on foreign shores

dont need to harness any rhymes

just want to stand for cheer and those good times

dont want to go to war no more

just sit and ponder on these shores

where golden sands stretch out the miles

just want to stroll them for a while

dont want to reason nought but fame

crafted words and silly games

where poets verse stands free and bold

harness the weather hot or cold

dont want to fight a cause or ploy

just want to be like other boys

just wave the flag on foreign shores

killed in the battles for a lord

hand me that gun

grip me that sword

sing me that anthem

how absurd

A Star

He was a star in his own right

didnt need no competitive commercial itv

just let his words flow so all could read of his majesty

 his visions were of altruistic fame

and his stannzas flowed

every one n all came out the same

his innocence and trusted pride

 they were just a price he paid

for each young dude and pretty bride

down through the ranks of poetry fame

they crafted words and folks knew their names

some were romantic others crude

all dwelled in hope and poetic brood

the flowing rhymes and honest toil

they crafted dreams and turned the soil

of words that made men weep and pray

of young girls dreams and better days

the competitive world was not for them

their hands and minds a source of crafted pens

their heartbeats flowed with thruth and love

sprinkled stardust set in the richness of the heavens above

 I dont need to competitive test

to seek the flow of words or zest

dont need no exercises of manmade taste

just a poets heart

and there il allways find

my true poets resting place

WAREHAM LAD

As a lad i lived in wareham town

where streets were narrow and church bells chimed

 near the frome and piddles rhymes

 old cedric Hughes did ring the bells

at lady st Marys church congregations swelled

all in good time

i shared those sunday morning revelries

 neath Church's tower and willow trees

the village romeo was one legged joseph mick

he rode a motorbike and they sanctioned it

close by the village Stoborough had its green

where folks would gather from early spring till Halloween

the miller mad did haunt the walls

where grass grew tall with tales of roman lords

the tales were rich in history

 and poets words of majesty

the cockerel crowed on samways farm

to wake them up was their alarm

the lizards squirmed on the high grass walls

 where children played from morn to dawn

the trumpet major rode this way

 whilst hardy wrote and lambs did play

 the poet Barnes lived just few miles away

then Lawrence Shaw at clouds hill came to stay

the guns they fired from lulwoth bay

 you could hear their roar every day

from miles away

 the streets were busy in the spring

 with hawkers all out and marketting

nearby the garrison at bovy town

where carruthers managed the officers mess

for queen and crown

whilst elmes and samways told the yarns

days long past with blackbirds song

as a lad i grew up there tall and strong 

He

POETRY GROUPS

It was the groups first meeting

 their very first slam n blast

the cakes were on the table

the choc ones just did not last

There was laughter in the hallways

 fun was in the air

we couldnt find no tables

lots of empty chairs

the spirits kinda lifted when the compere he gave chase

with four and twenty jokers going to a wake

the blind man gave a curtsy with his own ball and chain

his wifey sat beside him theyd walked here in the rain

the poets gave renditionse lifetime stories all

with roses in the porchway romance at their call t

he ladies brought their knitting the men brought playboys too

there were many people laughing rolf played his diddley doo

 i glanced upon a wise man a seer all out to spin

one hand on the bible the other passing gin

 the prose it was delightfull the stanzas they were fun

one carried the audience to heavens gate

the other went on and on and on till late

there were readings like from thatcheray

poems from hardys pen

then i heard a wise man singing hed  rent his quill again

the master mathmatican and the band of motley crew

 with one hand on the rudder and the other waved at Poole

SOLDIER BOYS

Their growing poppies on the hillsides Tubruck to Alamein

from the fields of Flanders freedoms to Afghans plains again

 their singing songs and all the anthems the notes are on the vine

 from the forces bloomin sweetheart all through the ranks of time

the madman shot his comrades the news is out today

their blowing all those pipes again their drinking hip hoorays

the news was on the tele the scent was in the air

 the death of true religion all the Truth laid bare

their pushing out the stories telling all their lies

their selling opium on the market to the young to make them wise

the medias got the answers the youth to go to war

 one hand on the trigger the other battle sore

their selling all the stories across the world wide web

 Christ has won the victory but the soldier boys lay dead

SCOUTS AT POOLE

 Ten Dorset boys from the bournes mouth and Poole

took a trip to brownsea with that first scouts crew

three half a crowns they paid each one

 to spend a time there and have some fun

Lord Baden Powell he took those local boys

to teach them scouting with all its joys

the skills of craft and camping too

held at brownsea isle just off of Poole

that first camps is now history

with generations of scouts at jamborees

the campfires were lit and the songs were sung

in those far off days when we were young

 its worldwide fame and girl guides too

were born at brown sea isle just off of Poole

with chants of boys and ventures blessed

they planted the seed you know the rest

WEYMOUTH SANDS

Us kids all went to weymouth to build castles in the sand

with our pockets full of shillings in days when life was grand

we took our sandwiches and honey wrapped up in paper towels

 we counted all our blessings then and waved at all the cows

the journey was delightful with pastures all the way

 sheep and ponies in the paddocks and what a holiday

the sun was out and shining the clouds were cotton wool

my brother brought his lizard pet and i brought my comics too

the town was full of people there were deck chairs by the sand

 you could smell the sea spray in the breeze and hear the big brass band

we saw the fairgrounds carousel and bought a currant bun

 there were lots of ice cream vendors there and a fat man on a drum

the sand was so inviting and the sea was warm and clean

there were tourists in the shops nearby it was a delightful scene

i saw the punch and Judy show set up there on the sands

there was lots of candy floss and pop with gals in summer gowns

 weymouth sure looked beautiful such a busy little town

there were open top buses flying by with children cheering

too my brother built a sand castle and my sister played the fool

the boats were sailing in the bay and the cliffs looked quite a sight

i was playing in the sea and the crabs of my toes they had a bite

ouch

CAROLINE HUGHES/Dorset Gypsypoet

Do you remember the Dorset Gypsy poet Queen

 with her words of love she set the scene

the caravans gathered on the old wareham bye pass

with their homes of freedom and their wheels on grass

the view of canford hills of lodge

 the windy tracks on the land of God

 she wrote the anthems and the folk trail ends

 where the dartford warbler thrilled around each bend

 they came to visit her the young and wise

with the dust of love within their eyes

she played and sung the words of rhyme

memories of another age another time

the Seegers came to bend their ears

the sixties vogue in the protest years

the traditions streteched and the words were wise

 they crafted melodies and turned the tide

the Dorset gypsy queen of poetry

 sat and talked amongst birch white trees

the guitars strummed and their voices thrilled

 amongst the campfires lit and the rolling wheels

the Manning's heath just a stone throw away

 where as a child i ran and played t

he music lived within their hearts

the gypsy song and the horse and carts

then the master artistes performed her songs

 the gypsy queen with lilt so strong

the heathers bend and the lizards squirmed

amongst the adders and fast slow worms

gone are the travelers who played that day

 amongst the gorse on the great highway

     DAWN BREAKS

In a twinkle of light through the passage of time

A dream came along that was sound and so fine

a hurricane roared through the streets of the pines

 whilst a child lay a sleeping in the land of divine

somewhere in shadows where lullabies lay

the pixies and fairies were learning to pray

the deer it was running through spruce of the day

whilst the shepherds were sleeping and their dreams went astray

cross my path now said the man of delights

whilst the gypsies were dancing twas a wonderful sight

the cross on the hillside was blessed with his grace

whilst the sinners of mankind turned away from disgrace

 the clock struck the hour when dawn spreads its light

 whilst the children of genesis whispered goodnight

the forests lay sacred and the hills cast their spell

but only the good were rejoicing the fells

all through the histories where men came to taunt

 the reasons for waRs were cast and well learnt

 the battles were won yet the victory's were lost

in the Truth of his words at the foot of the cross

 i remember the hymns said the wise man and more

like the words of the bible all twisted by whores

the cock crowed at dawn and the man he just lied

with a kiss on the cheek which we grew to despise

MY ENGLAND

Where bobbies walk the streets in twos

 and one can catch the train at Waterloo

to travel down to purbeck view and saunter on to visit Poole

in English hills and English downs

where Hardy wrote and Tess sat down

where Shakespeare wrote and Elliot too

where bacon wrote his bible free

and tolpuddle martyrs talked of liberty

 where Lawrence shaw wrote on clouds hill

brunel created bridges to span the sea

 whilst children played their games afor their tea

here church and manor house resides

along sides the sandy beaches and roaring seas n tides

 theres forests new and Sherwood too

even buffalo bill came to Poole

the east enders and coronation street

the kindest people yould want to meet

the brummy lad and Geordie crew

the brownsea island scouts at Poole

the rose of Kent and Liverpool

the Beatles and the Mersey too

 the trains of steam at swanage town

the malvern hills springs drink the water down

the buck house of queen and kings

 the palaces and busker's that sing

the swans and open country lanes

the dips and dales the sights n smells

the journey up to tunbridge wells

the fields of corn and wheat n rye

the village postman pass you by

the football lads and cricketers

the history and the lady Diane tears

the brooks and rivers the trains n boats

the island race

the mix of pace

st George the dragon and George Orwell

the houses of Parliament and Orson wells

the crowds the tourists and the cup of tea

the battle won the victory

DORSET STONE

Old London was built of purbeck stone

For Sir Christopher Wren was well in tone

with Westminster abbey and old Big Ben

they took those stones and carved them then

From purbecks tide with surfing foams

they cut those famous Portland stones

from purbecks hills and countryside

 made monuments to greet a bride

The work was hard and hours long

with only sweat and warblers song

with noble brows and knightly gaze

they shaped those stones to be amazed

now those stones stand so proud and tall

with royal hearts and in regales halls

though the purbeck hills still call to man

where seagulls nest above the sands 

POETRY COMPOSED JUST FOR YOU

If you would like me to compose a poem for a special occasion,birthday,anniversary,family occassion or a dedication to that special person in your life, please contact me at my CONTACT page  

Meanwhile heres just a few more of my poems to wet your appetite.

 Small Miracles