This poem was written around the theme of the countryside for a competition in the Town and Country Magazine in 2021...sadly not a winner but considered
Lush forests abundant with trees, precious lungs of the earth, snow peaked mountains icy glens, deftly we traverse
Forged with nature skiing, boating, fishing, shooting, all manner of pursuits by them we become as one
Eyes can wander unrestricted further mile beyond mile perusing the fauna covers dales dells moors deep valleys
Once unpopulated untameably wild, now horses can peacefully trot and canter, with humans they carry and bond Hills gushing waterfalls we are tempted to plunder and be baptised under, shivering and laughing, such fun follies Sunny whispering streams caressing our hands tempted to submerge feet and toes in nature we dabble and rally The paradise of countryside's warm and welcoming arms as comforting dreams we succour from it, so jolly In awe of the expansive freedom of hushed mirror reflected lakes, gushing rivers bursting with fresh water salmon
Babbling brooks and streams where fish leap to avoid the hook, still foraging for food deep in their watery marines How many aspire to belong amidst the gifts of nature's growth and throes beyond their wishes To linger among chameleon colour changing undulating terrain wherein wildlife roams, mesmeric scenes For when life gets too complicated causing such pain enabling its traumas to recede and pale, mood switches
An oasis to imbibe the sweet savouring of seasonal myriad scents carried on warm breezes, calmness sown Pungent pine, wild posies, heather, lavender, roses, soil, hay and fruit orchard's treasure trails
Combine and proliferated by honeybees on an unrelenting seasonal scale, bountifully tangibly
shown Propagating to feed our populous from watersides to towns and cities, food's bounty prevails
Breathing enveloping swathes of oxygen filled air unmeasured, gliders and kites colourfully circle and swerve
No mind space there for sad thoughts to linger and lament only excitement and exhilaration vents
Nature's natural tranquilizer its regenerating effects relaxing into pleasure of outdoor preserves
Reliving of happy times of idyllic childhood spent stippled sunlight twigs crunch underfoot all bent
Where we remembered places to discover unearth and regain where dogs run freely and scamper
Reviving our sense of awe at tors jagged that will outlast, owls hooting from their crevices, birds taking flight Their purpose over the aeons perhaps it was for shelter or laden with grain, undoubtedly humanity's anchor
Farmers arable agriculture combined together for livelihood's spoils harvested and cashed, an inalienable right
Survival of communities local and afar continuing traditions of old country skills and crafts, a prestigious banner
Pheasants venison sheep cows kept untethered then later to eat a delicious feast of succulent delectable bites
Wool from sheep spun as precious as gold once weathered yet malleable adapts in every manner
To make garments through employment of country folk so professional no other competition contrasts
We are grateful they remain and dutifully sustain always they are treasured their presence interacts
Even in misty vistas or torrential life giving rain where shepherds cloaked and soaked
Yet without question protecting animals thereby maintaining our lands in so many ways to gain Artists gather wanting to recreate the magic of famous landscape painters Wilson Turner and Constable Flocking to magnetic scenes compelled to interpret and illustrate in water or oil paints Capturing the unrivalled beauty of which city folk jestingly call the country, down in the sticks, yet ever responds How very convivial and so very British their art showing so much talent with little creative restraint For the generations ahead to see how the land was then, yet incrementally by urban schemes eclipsed To stand and gaze in galleries at landscape paintings to render us to be moved sentimental, so proud It is a silent badge of honour why a country person's fervent admiration forever exists River boats and rowers punting at Oxford and Cambridge the annual Henley Regatta Not leaving out our sacred game of cricket watched while eating cold yet melting gelato Village bowling greens for our golden folk to stay moving by pitching and returning Their thatched cottages decked by flowers curling thickets their gardens tended imprinting their personal signature Quiet old country pubs serving tea and scones in winter drinks in hand by the home fire crackling fiercely burning Castles and country mansions still revered icons of more philanthropic opulent days, people still transfixed Upheld by the National Trust where they cannot be put asunder preserves our culture lest it turn to dust and dies Encouraging national and international tourists to visit they cannot deny or steal our thunder, so loud, no tricks Whilst enjoying magnificent stately homes wherein tailored acres they lie, to slowly amble where flowers rise A testament of long lost eras where upon the landed gentry did build and owned, then by rising costs plundered Change and time waits for no-one, society now beats to a different tone, past not bemoaned, obligingly to comply Yet our wealth is the universe's gift, a magnificent isle where we can amble at leisure without hindrance or denial Copyright Natasha Anne Kelleher November 2021 All Rights Reserved
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