The Mansion in Ferndale Wood

No brick or tile had crumbled,
Concealed from the world it stood;
Chance led me to where I stumbled
On the mansion in Ferndale Wood.
Stone lions sat wise and brooding
As the guardians of the gate,
I felt like a thief intruding
Or a guest who was years too late.

The windows contemplated
A great lawn of manicured turf,
While gargoyles on gutters waited
In moods of despair and mirth.
Dark ivy rose to cover
All the elegant Georgian walls,
Did a similar aura smother
The staircases, rooms and halls?

In my imagination
I didn't see friendly hosts,
Just those in domestication
Serve figures of wealthy ghosts,
And some nights when dreams start churning,
Despite leaving there for good
I trespass, forever returning
To the mansion in Ferndale Wood.


©

Thanks Musty

I just came across it on the telly, it must be a big day for the town.

Very good, Musty.

They just might take a few to start with on a sale or return basis, especially in these cash-strapped days. Do you think they probably have more visitors in the summer? It could well become one of their best sellers. You know we're all waiting with bated breath to hear it's available.

Going back to the educational thing, I did wonder if you would be willing to give permission for teachers to photocopy poems for teaching purposes within their school. It could be a selling point so worth thinking about.

Sorry! I'm beginning to sound a bit pushy but you're under no obligation.

Very good timing for The Mansion in Ferndale Wood as "Downton Abbey" is about to start. It's very atmospheric - have I read it before or was that the house in the woods?

Ta Sandy


Not at all Biz, the school idea's a good one and something I may follow up when the time's right. Avebury, like most places of interest, does get more visitors in the summer. My photographer is convinced the shop would stock the book We're hoping to unleash it in late October

The Mansion poem's very similar to another one I wrote about an eerie residence called Gravendean. I think I've exhausted my pen on spooky manors now

I've just had a look at their website and see that you'd have the advantage of also being advertised online. Looking good.

I was thinking of it as a independent place, but of course it belongs to The National Trust, so I take back what I said. I have a terrible memory.

That wasn't the one with the ghostly dancers was it?

Hello Sandy

As far as I know, the Henge Shop is independent, free of the National Trust and English Heritage Biz. The Trust's shop is just across the way

http://www.hengeshop.com/hsshop.htm

Gravendean had no ghostly dancers, they were in an even older poem - it's buried in the archives somewhere

Ooops! Wrong shop. However I see they also advertise their books online. Maybe they'll also put it in their window.

Yes you have written a lot of ghostly poems, but then you've written a lot of poems.

To be fair, both are excellent, but the Henge Shop feels unique and is very cosy. Sometimes it's the atmosphere that makes you like a shop

(Click on the Photo gallery, then the Avebury Album in the link for some great photos!)

Up in the Air

Later, will stand on your street a crater
Of which our love will be no more
It will be replaced with blood and gore
You have reduced me
I was once a proud man, stood tall like a tree
I am nothing, I am worthless
The pain of being on a crest of love
And having it sheared apart
I have had enough
So when you go up in the air
In flames and fire and fury
You'll know you not dare
Cross me.

Welcome back Allthings That's such a powerful poem, I sensed a strong need for vengeance in it. A fascinating write!

Hello Biz

Lovely photos - I wish there had been more with the full moon.

I'm feeling very nervous.

Guy the Gorilla

For us London Zoo was a thriller,
Its wild life would fill us with zest,
We had to see Guy the Gorilla,
Yes, Guy the Gorilla was best.

I overtook happy consumers
In such an excitable state,
I bypassed the penguins and pumas,
To see Guy I just couldn't wait.

Expecting a loud voice that thundered
Like King Kong’s I watched and yet Guy
Seemed bored as another crowd wondered,
Now childhood has gone I know why:

They'd captured him as a mere baby
In Cameroon where his kind roam
And I think instinctively maybe
He longed for his old jungle home.

Paraded by civilisation,
The ape's popularity grew
Yet twenty-five years' isolation
Had stunted his dignity too.

A mate was procured for the breeding
But with so much time on his own
The scheme had no chance of succeeding,
For Guy had existed alone.

I witnessed him solemnly drinking
With neither a movement or rage,
Then walked away free and unthinking
While he lingered on in his cage.

If small birds by chance ever entered
That cell he would give a wry smile,
O Guy you were never self-centred
Though man made your life a long trial.


©
 

Avebury by moonlight or early morning fog is beautiful

An excellent one for upper school discussion Musty.

Thanks Biz I have a mixed opinion on zoos. While they do good conservation work, some animals are definitely prisoners.

Midnight Reader

When the frost of midnight has hardened
And the doors and windows are closed,
By a fire with candlelight shining
Read the lines a poet composed.

From the words you make a connection,
Like a bell beginning to toll,
You have learned at last that another
Knows the loneliness in your soul.

Here the lovers part full of sadness,
Here the sunsets paint every bay,
For a few invulnerable moments
Let the pages take you away.

If the poem’s read and you’re weary
And the moon is feeling the same,
When the candle finally flickers
Close the book and blow out the flame.


©
 

Very, very touching Musty - and so true.

Thanks Biz I'm an avid reader myself and not only of poetry. I've just finished Jamaica Inn, which I found completely unputdownable!

This is very touching


'1983'

While searching in my parents loft for something I had lost, I came acoss a fuzzy photograph.
It shows my father, young and muscular, on the factory yard where he worked.
Covered in a cementy slop that gushes forth from a hefty bucket.
The vest he is wearing soaked to his skin, and a grin
Just visible through the muddy waterfall.
In the background, scrunched up with laughter, his workmates look on.
Along with the cement mixer, having played its part.
This photograph captures a moment of glee, from the year 1983.

Thanks Howmany '1983' struck a chord for me. I have several old photos of my Dad and his workmates caught in happy moments. Great write