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Living with disabilities
Poems page 2
being disabled
about myself and my disabilities
some of the help I needed
some of the help I managed to find
my feelings
loss of my controls - my biggest problem
My poems Page 1
Poems page 2
Poems page 3
Poems page 4
Poems page 5

These poems are of my home in the countryside of Cornwall

Whilst out walking

Whilst walking along our country lanes
lined with gorse and coloured heathers
Sun glints up from house window panes
Best to walk here in summer weathers
Hill topped off with castle, and monument tall
Watch out children, don't you fall
The hills are scattered with rocks around
Amongst wild flowers on the ground

Valerian here, forget me not there
Patches where the grass is bare
Here and there are children skipping,
Not bothered by the gross fly tipping
This lovely scenery spoilt by those
Who all of their rubbish do dispose
Of anywhere, that's out of their hands
With no respect for our green lands

For hundreds of years this hill has been
Treasured by many who enjoy the scene
People on horseback, ride the track
Wave to passers by, who wave right back
Folk walking dogs, or flying kites
Mountain bikers on their bikes
Teams, kids and adults, playing football
Fun and games for one and all

The sun rising oer the hill
Colours it in an orange glow
Shining like a fire agleam
As in the postcards we all know
Then at dawn it lowers it's beam
Pinks and reds burn the sky again
To let us know it's time to rest
And so we wander back down the lane

Home to our families we go
Whilst the sun is setting low
Meals to cook, and lawns to mow
In our houses down below
Houses that have been there hundreds of years
Have known the work, the joy, the tears
Housed many a family, young and old
With many a tale so oft retold

Of miners climbing up this hill
Fred, and george and alf and bill
Home cooked pasties, each man will eat
Filled with potato, onion and meat
Some cooked to recipes handed down
Through generations in the town
Fathers brothers uncles sons
Bringing up the tin by tons


A different glow

Yesterday our hill was aflame with colour
Heathers bloomed in every hue
Wild flowers growing with abandon
Pinks and yellows, orange and blue

That was in the early morning
As the sun was shining bright
Later in the day was different
The hill aglow with another light

A tiny spark had caught the gorse
Dry from a week with no rain
Suddenly the wind blew up
And fanned the naked flame

Bushes close by caught alight
It spread like water poured
A serpent of flames crawled up the hill
This hill we all adored

Beaters came to stem the fire
Which spread so rapidly
Smoke billowing up across the sky
So wide for all to see

The fire was far from in control
Spreading far and wide
Poor rabbits lost their homes today
Now who knows where they'll hide

Birds nests too will all be gone
Waiting for eggs that now won't come
A generation of singing birds have flown
To find another home

What once was beautiful, quiet, serene
Is now a blackened mass
The fire destroyed the lovely scene
By a careless spark, alas


Druids Lodge

Druids Lodge our house is called
Built long ago, and granite walled
It's origins to us a mystery
Shrouded in the years of history
Two hundred and fifty years old, they say
Still standing as strong as ever today

Five hundred feet below, the shaft of a mine
Long ago closed, forgotten by time
Wheal Druids was the name of that pit
Was this house named after it?
Or did the druids give it their name
Call the mine, and the Lodge, both the same

Once a workhouse, so the maps say
It housed the folk who couldn't pay
To give their family clothes and bed
Providing them with their daily bread
Folk who were sick, or simply in need
A very harsh regime there ruled indeed

Or did it house Druids, do you think that it would
All dressed in habits, covered with hood
Roaming the hillside, gathering wood
To burn in the down hearth fireplace
It would need lots of fuel
To heat this big space


This hill in my poems, is what I see as I sit at my computer, looking through my window.