PROLIFIC VISABLE POET

After a very busy and hectic morning serving in church kitchen on Sunday morning . I decided to have some down time to myself. So I went on a little train ride (a carriage to myself) on the Cambrian Heritage Railways. It's a short journey along the heritage line. I love the film,'the railway children' I think there may have been a little bit of the film in me today.  Cambrian Heritage Railways, in the heart of historic Oswestry, offers a journey through time with its railway museum, restored signal box, period ticket office, and more. Located near the town centre, market, and castle, the Oswestry station provides convenient amenities like a shop, toilets, and parking, making it an ideal starting point for exploring local heritage. Heritage trains operate on selected days between Oswestry and Weston Wharf, featuring steam, vintage diesel, and diesel multiple units. The 1.75-mile scenic route leads to Weston Wharf’s period station with a café, picnic area, and railway artifa...

WE HAVE BEEN We have been in it, We have been through it, We been been on it, We have been over it, We have been timing it, We have been beneath it. We have been watching it, We have been above it, We have been round it, We have been reading it, We have been near it, We have been avoiding it. We have been riding it, We have been running it, We have been making it, We have been past it, We have been trying it, We have been developing it. We have been walking it, We have been buying it, We have been leading it, We have been seeing it, We have been selling, We have been sharing it. We have been against it, We have been writing it, We have been under it, We have been drinking it, We have been holding it, We have been loosing it. We have been winning it, We have been eating it, We have been timing it, We have been building it, We have been creating it, We have been off it. We have been playing it, We have been ruling it, We have been learning, We have...

It was a damp and dreary December Wednesday afternoon in the rural town of Duvetdale. Coral was walking through the park on her way into town. As she walked through the park, a chorus of birds sang from the tree's. They were making a right rackett. Yet she couldn't Identify them, because they where high up in the tree's.  She paused and sat on a park bench because a poem line had just entered her head. You see Coral was a bit of a prolific wordsmith; it didn't take much for her to come up with something. Wherever she was or what ever was happening she would always find something in that moment to write about. The chorus of these birds was temporary interrupted by some shuffling human feet and the noise whinnying dog; which the owner paid little attention too. Coral sat a little longer, the dog and its master moved away. Once again birds song was heard; the park keeper passed by and they exchanged a polite 'hello, good-day'. Then the church bell struck three and ...