More Poetry in the Round

By James Hathersage

A further collection of descriptive and people poetry written in the traditional rhyming and scanning format. There is once again a wide range of subject matter, including several poems with links to Sports and even Sports Medicine in a light hearted way. There are several Limericks, often suitable for children, at the end of this collection. As always the emphasis is on entertainment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Hathersage
• Release date: Nov 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393512424

Book preview

1

The Lamp Light.

––––––––

An old, cast iron post stands

on the corner of our street,

In the daytime’s hectic pace

you’d hardly know,

When all the busy people

have rushed home on busy feet,

A stillness and a calm

begin to grow.

-

The lighter turns the gas

and sets a flame atop the post,

The mantle brightens white,

A shimmering glow.

As if in thanks, and gratefully,

So in a parting toast,

The lighter’s walking shadow

it will throw.

-

Soon I will meet Matilda

at the corner of our street,

When the light paints out

our shadows for a while,

The brightness is redoubled,

Just to make my joy complete,

With the radiance

of Matilda’s blissful smile.

-

As ever we must bid farewell,

Too soon the time to part,

We see our shadows

lengthen on the ground,

A feeling full of yearning

deep inside each beating heart,

Sweet kisses blown

and scattered all around.

-

With the hint of dawn approaching,

The lighter on his way,

He extinguishes

the mantle’s shimmering glow,

Yet the flame within our hearts,

Though he’ll try, as so he may,

Will burn far beyond this life,

And that I know.

***

2

The Broken Leat.

––––––––

Along the winding, wooded glen,

There runs a winding leat,

But water runs not through its channelled seat,

Part cut in rock, its twisting length

a full five hundred feet,

A wood mill lies at rest, and waits,

Beside a flowing fleet.

-

The wood mill’s listing water wheel,

Will turn around no more,

Off the axle, broken buckets

strewn upon the floor

of the sloping, dry, old wheel trough,

No power to drag the saw,

An energy now found bereft,

That used to be so sure.

-

I hear nothing of the