A Little Night Reading, Or Tales That Could Ring True

By John Hunt

Dive into a world where dreams intertwine with reality, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and where nature’s wonders come alive in poetic verses. A Little Night Reading, Or Tales That Could Ring True is a collection of poems that transport readers from the whimsical realms of fairies and magical creatures to the profound depths of human emotions and the beauty of nature.

Journey with Tom as he discovers the enchanting world of the Old Oak Tree, where memories of childhood are painted with joy and wonder. Meet the elusive Cuddlelum, a creature of the night, and Giggletops, a bird with a penchant for mischief. Revel in the beauty of changing seasons, from the golden hues of autumn to the rebirth of spring. And ponder upon the tales of imagination, where fact and fiction blur, reminding us of the power of stories passed down through generations.

Whether you’re seeking solace in nature’s embrace, a touch of magic, or a reflection on life’s complexities, this collection offers a poem for every mood and moment. So, settle down for a little night reading and let the verses whisk you away to places both familiar and fantastical.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781528970129

John Hunt

John Hunt was born in London on 17th January 1932. He spent his childhood years being brought up in children’s homes. At 17 years of age, he joined the Household Cavalry division of the Army where he served for 22 years in the Life Guards Regiment. He left the army and started his next career within the brewing industry, eventually becoming a Publican. He spent his retirement years in Droitwich Spa enjoying his two lifelong passions of Golf and Photography. He sadly passed away on 31st October 2020 before he was able to see his book published.

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About the Author

John Hunt was born in London on 17th January 1932. He spent his childhood years being brought up in children’s homes. At 17 years of age, he joined the Household Cavalry division of the Army where he served for 22 years in the Life Guards Regiment. He left the army and started his next career within the brewing industry, eventually becoming a Publican. He spent his retirement years in Droitwich Spa enjoying his two lifelong passions of Golf and Photography.

He sadly passed away on 31st October 2020 before he was able to see his book published.

Dedication

To my wife Edna whose encouragement and understanding gave me the incentive to realise my dream.

Copyright Information ©

John Hunt 2023

The right of John Hunt to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication, may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528939881 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528970129 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

A Dream Party

Some say that fairies do not exist, but when you’re young, anything can happen, perhaps it was a dream. That seems so real, that it will always be in your memory, even when time has travelled so far for you.

Cuddlelum

Slowly, at night, wondering the countryside,

A silky fat bundle, not trying to hide.

Not as large as a bear, nor as big as a deer,

Certainly does not show any fear.

Then, you see his extraordinary face,

You realise he’s got such wonder and grace.

No, he’s not a great bear, with malice and spite,

It’s just a cuddlelum that wanders the night.

When dawn’s early light graces the sky,

He wanders back home with a gentle sigh.

Cuddles against you, as you sleep and dream,

It’s your only special cuddlelum come home, it would seem.

Autumn

Morning sunlight filters down through the trees.

Leaves, no longer luxurious green, tremble on a delicate breeze.

Cobwebs add lustre to morning dew, creating illusions of sparkling jewels.

Trees have become a canvas for nature’s palette, creating colours of pure magic.

Squirrels, seeking nature’s bounty, hide their treasure in secret places.

Magpies, smart in black and white, strut in confidence and steal that bounty.

Across the sky, visitors from afar arrive. Precise in arrowed skeins, geese glide and land on feathered autumn grass.

Autumn is a gentle time.

When nature is so benign.

All too soon sharp winter frosts, herald the start of winter’s dark and forbidding rule.

Fairies

In distant forests, there’s a secret place,

With people of a beautiful race.

They are only seen by the pure of heart,

Only young people, who wish to take part.

In regimented ways, the older folk

Go about life, harnessed in an old grey cloak.

Glorious youth, full of hope and love,

See first a snowy white dove.

They follow its flight to a beautiful dell,

There, they find a melodious bell,

Ringing out chimes of the purest knell,

As the last notes float away to the sky.

Gentle rustling, fluttering all around and a faint cry.

Delicate lights filter down through the trees,

Small, exquisite figures glide down with such ease.

Watching in awe, at such a beautiful sight,

The pure of heart realise they are fairies, so bright.

Seasons

Last snows of winter slowly yield

Its icy grip on meadow and field.

First breath of spring rustles gentle and low,

Banishing all signs of winter snow.

Newborn lambs gamble in skittish play

Freshly-growing grass is made into hay.

Horses freed from winter’s confine

Gallop, leap, stretching muscles no longer supine.

Valleys and dells seem to ring

To nature’s chorus heralding spring.

Daffodils’ trumpets thrust to the sky,

Seem to herald a fanfare, sounding clear and high.

Bluebells, primroses in coloured array,

Throughout the woodland, hold majestic sway.

Gentle rustling through leaves and bramble,

Dormice, rabbits and others, checking mates in their gamble.

To rear the next offspring,

That will launch a new spring.

Giggletops

Giggletops is a very strange bird.

When you see him for the first time, you think, Oh, what a nerd.

He’s not very smart; it’s obvious to see.

’Cos he can only fly as high as a flea.

Feathers not preened; a terrible mess.

What are his uses? You’ll never guess.

Perhaps, he has migrated from distant lands,

I bet they are glad he is off their hands.

But, then there’s a twinkle in his bright little eye,

With his head on one side, he jumps rather high.

Does a strange kind of somersault and falls with a bump.

A flurry of feathers, he is up with a jump.

You chuckle and laugh, and so does he.

Then, you suddenly realise with glee,

Giggletops are here to make you feel free.

Dawn

The first light of day floats across dawn’s early awakening.

Never the same.

Each dawn creates a wondrous sight.

Gold and silver, merging with a brilliant array of colours.

Bright-eyed bundles of feathers, vie with others.

To create a rare and beautiful sound.

Merging with natures rich spectrum of light,

To start another day.

Adleck and Arzen

Adleck, the elf, was running quite fast,

When a fairy, named Arzen, called as he went past.

Hey! Why the hurry and scurry young elf on a bright summer’s morn?

"The Fairy Queen is eager to know

Why a young person, so small and so good,

Wanders alone in the Great wood."

It seems a waif might be hurt and terribly lost.

"Hurry, young Adleck, and find the young one at any cost,

So that we can take care of this poor little waif."

Off went the elf, as fast as he could,

A blur of colour, as he sped through the wood.

At the bottom of a very large tree,

Adleck, the elf, found the waif who was so weak.

Taking him gently by the hand,

Adleck led him to a track made of soft golden sand.

And in no time at all, they arrived in the dell,

Where fairies and elves lived by a deep wishing well.

The Fairy Queen, so gentle and kind, said,

My goodness, Adleck, what a wonderful find!

Adleck felt rather proud,

As he led the small child through the crowd.

The Queen, taking the babe by the hand,

Led him to a small little house made of golden sand.

"This is your home whilst you are here.

Adleck’s your helper and friend, so please, show no fear."

All of the fairies and elves found great delight

In helping Adleck make clothes that were bright.

They clothed the small person from the Great Wood

And made sure they always had the most delicious food.

During the day, the elves, full of fun,

Played elfing games in the summer’s warm sun.

Adleck was troubled; his thoughts running wild,

He must have a name, this beautiful child.

The Fairy Queen, all regal and proud,

Suggested he have a name that stands out from the crowd.

Adleck was awed by a wonderful presence.

Thinking hard, he cried, "I have a name in essence.

Let’s name him Tristan. It’s royal and bold,

And used by the great knights in days of old."

River

A gentle sound, akin to tinkling bells,

Can be heard across meadows and dells.

Rain, which has fallen so long ago,

Trickles forth to flow;

Its way through fields and valleys.

Joined by others, they surge together. Growing larger, they

Create a sound like thunder.

Waterfalls break the flow,

Creating nature’s unusual show.

Ever widening, it becomes

A water highway, passing by tall, dark buildings and shiny

Domes.

Hustle and bustle joins the flow,

Ships and boats come and go.

Now, this water giant is coming to its journey’s end.

This meandering goliath surges through every bend.

All too soon, it reaches the ocean.

They join together. Forever creating perpetual motion.

Dream Party

A large oak tree stood at the edge of the wood.

It was the largest tree that anyone had ever seen.

It stood at some distance from the main wood. Almost as if it was too proud to be close to smaller trees.

A small boy stood, looking at the giant oak. There was no doubt in his mind that this was quite the most enormous tree in the world.

He looked up into the massive branches. At first, all he could see were masses of leaves, but suddenly, he saw the grey squirrels. They dashed all over the place, chasing one another.

They seemed to be chatting to one another in squirrel language, as if telling each other how fast they were.

Now and then, they stopped, sitting on their hind legs, bodies erect, tails all fluffy spread behind them. In their front paws, they held an acorn, which they nibbled quite quickly. They were constantly chattering and their bright little eyes flashed from side to side, checking if they were safe in the depths of the giant oak tree.

The small boy stepped towards the tree. Soon, he was close enough to touch it. The bark was very rough to touch. In fact, he could place his fingers into the cracks in places.

He took a rusty nail from his pocket, stepped closer to the tree and placed the nail against the bark.

Err, Err, Err – what do you think you are doing?

The boy stepped back and peered up into the tree. A squirrel, larger than the others, looked down at the small boy.

Did you say that? the small boy’s question was directed at the squirrel. It sounded like an accusation. The squirrel fluffed up his fur and tail creating the illusion that he was even larger than he actually was.

Nah. Not me silly, it was him.

The boy looked up into the tree. You’re fibbing. There’s no one there except you.

The original voice seemed to echo again, from deep within the tree, It wasn’t him, it was me. You can’t see me, but I’m here all the time. I’m the old oak tree. I think you should say sorry to my squirrel friend for saying that he fibs. Oh, and what’s your name? Can’t keep calling you ‘Boy’.

The small boy drew himself up to his full height. My name’s Tom. Mr Squirrel, I’m sorry that I said you fibbed. I think that I had better go now.

The Oak tree seemed to quiver, its leaves rustled as a slight breeze bore down the meadow towards the wood.

Not so fast, young Tom. I’ve got some questions I would like you to answer.

Tom shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. I don’t know anything, Mr Tree, and I have to go or I’ll get into trouble.

It won’t take long – What were you going to do with the nail, Tom?

Tom was quite worried, but he felt it would be best to tell the truth. I was going to put my name in the bark; it was for my birthday, which will be next week.

If I could, Tom, I would come to your birthday party. But as you can see, it would be a bit difficult for me.

Well, it’s not a problem really, Mr Tree. ’Cos I don’t ever have parties.

Don’t have parties! Don’t have parties? Mr Squirrel, did you hear that? We will have to do something about this.

The squirrel jumped up and down, nodding his head in agreement.

Now, Tom, you come here the day of your birthday. Be here at three o’clock. We will have a party to celebrate your fifth birthday. Now off you go, and don’t be late.

Tom ran all the way to where he lived. He suddenly wondered how old Oak Tree knew that he was going to be five years old next week.

Much later in the day, after Tom had left, two rather strange figures stood by the Old Oak Tree.

Cuddlelum and Giggletops were quite surprised when they had been asked to visit the Old Oak Tree

Cuddlelum looked into the tree, Can’t see anyone. Giggletop, how about you?

Not a thing. They must all be out to tea. Anyway, it’s a good time to look for Furbles.

Giggletops, all fluffy and preened asked, How many Furbles can you see in a tree.

Ah, said Cuddlelum, that’s easy. You see, they are all coloured green, the same as the tree.

That’s true, chuckled Giggletops. You can’t see them now, but when autumn comes and the winds start to blow, all the leaves change colour to a golden hue.

Cuddlelum smiled, That’s so very true, but then, the Furbles change colour to a lovely sky blue.

Then, munching on nuts and seeds they became rather plump and seemed to twinkle and shine. Then sore into a very blue sky and disappeared without even saying goodbye.

They’ll be back, Giggletops laughed, when the first buds of spring can be seen. Playing hide and seek, when all the leaves turn to green.

Ah – it’s you two making all that noise. I thought it was those young squirrels playing tag again during my afternoon nap, the Old Oak Tree seemed to sway as he spoke.

Giggletops quivered with delight, Oh, I love to play tag. When do they start again?

I’ve not asked you here to play tag. There’s work to do. I need you both to go to the Fairy Grotto, deep in the wood. Mr Squirrel will help you explain about a party. We need to arrange for a young man, who has never had a birthday party before.

Oh my goodness, how very sad. Never ever had a birthday party. Cuddlelum was quite overcome.

Again, the Old Oak swayed – The poor little lad has had a terrible time. No mother or father. He lives with some people, who are supposed to care, but treat him most unkindly. In fact, he is rarely there. So, off you go and see what can be done to make next Wednesday a day full of splendid fun.

Cuddlelum, Giggletops and a rather large, fluffy Squirrel were soon making their way to the Fairy Queen’s village, deep in the wood.

They looked a strange bunch as they walked along. Soon, they came to a fork in the path. They all stopped. Giggletops ruffled his feathers and turned to Mr Squirrel. Which way, which way? The paths look the same, we have to get on, there is so much to be done.

Cuddlelum nodded. He also spoke to the squirrel, We must take the right path, otherwise we could get lost and that will never do.

Mr Squirrel chuckled and laughed, My goodness, you can’t possibly get lost, the path we want is so clear for you to see. There, the one to the right made of soft golden sand. It will lead to the Fairy Queen’s village in a beautiful land.

In very short time, they arrived at the Fairy Queen’s village.

Elves and Fairies were busy at playing, and small children laughed and joined in the fun.

Cuddlelum and Giggletops were about to ask where the Fairy Queen could be found when suddenly, with a gentle fluttering of her beautiful wings, the Fairy Queen floated from out of the trees.

"Welcome, good Cuddlelum and Giggletops too. You are here to ask for help for a young