Sitting, Watching

Turbulent river, fast flowing,
Eddy bubbling, circling,
Broken trunks floating,
Ducks and Drakes courting,
Sun shining,
Wind blustering,
Clouds scurrying,
Tall trees swaying,
Willows weeping,
The Hope and Anchor calling,
Tea brewing,
Ah!  A lovely cuppa for supping,
What a lovely scene to be viewing.
Ross-on-Wye, stunning.

Written by Kris Prevel - April 2013

No Green in the Forest of Dean

Spring, Spring, wherefore art thou Spring?

Here they are then!
Trees, all different, all sentinel,
Of a forest full of life unseen,
Unless you scrutinise the scene.

Larch is struggling to wear green,
Beaten only by willows tearfully weeping.
Everything else is bare, naked and easily seen,
Waiting for Spring, is it around the corner, peeping?

The noisy whisperings of pines run through the canopy,
As if there's some sort of conspiracy,
Swishing their heads together, they seem to agree -
Spring must have forgotten the neighbouring trees.

Yew and Holly surround the dell,
Where wild boar uprooted bulbs of bluebell,
The pond is full of toads frantically spawning,
No attention is paid to Heron watching.

Walking slowly now, deer in the clearing,
I stand still and watch them,
I see one reciprocating,
They are fleet of foot and dart for cover,
And I'm left in awesome wonder.

Rabbit diving into warren,
Squirrel running to it's drey,
Song birds flying into thickets,
While raptor circles, how wicked.

If time enough you have to bide,
Watch Mandarin ducks which now reside
Alongside Swan and Goose, Moorhen and Coot,
Enough birds - for a twitcher's pursuit.

Lambs are born into cold and snow,
Birds sing loudly against the windy blow,
There's no cover for nests,
No warmth for eggs to hatch,
No weather for a clutch.

Rumours of a big Black Cat stalking,
In this vast forest of venison as prey,
How sinister, wild and intriguing,
Thank God I didn't come across him this day.

Cold, scarf and hat adorn me,
Whilst I draw my coat about me.

Strangely irritated by the lack of green,
My demeanour is one of slightly flattened esteem,
I shouldn't feel like this, I can't intervene,
Lots of other things I've seen, made me beam.

Spring, Spring, wherefore art thou Spring?

Written by Kris Prevel - April 2013

Walking through the Park for a breath of fresh air,
The trees are still bare.
Spring season is late breaking,
But the trees will slowly awaken.
Their buds will explode from their chambers of slumber,
And a profusion of green will hit the scene.
Perhaps this year, there'll even be fruit on the Medlar!
Dewdrops will make the leaves gleam.
Everywhere you'll look,
Spring will clear away that which winter took.
Colourful flowers in a drift
Such as Crocus and snowdrops
Will help the spirit lift.
They look wonderful in the copse;  but today,
My thoughts are of Spring and warmer days,
Hopefully to be followed by Summer's blistering heat haze.

by Kris Prevel
April 2013

A Walk at Pwll Du

There's a faint smell of coconut in the air,
it's the Gorse flower in bloom, touch it if you dare.
It reminds me of summer and suntan cream,
today though, there's no warmth in the sun's beam.
I round the bend in the lane and descend to Pwll Du.
It calls to me.
The light grey Pebbles roll and play
in the surf's relentless flay.
The stream has the power to change the scene,
it runs deep, 'neath the stones, unseen.
Not much sand on this strip of land.
People fiddle and faff until they're happy they won't hurt their bones
when in summer they have to sit upon the stones.
They clack and echo as you walk upon their surface,
Disturbing the valley's relative calmness.
A couple of white cottages nestle below the hill,
practicably inaccessible - if you have deliveries - your heart must stand still!
Mum said "During the war, one cottage was a Cafe,
fresh eggs would not be rationed and were on the menu daily".
Now they're holiday homes for those that like to roam.
Carry on walking, no flagging.
Watch your footing, no tumbling,
on to where pirates used to stash their trove
at a little place called Brandy Cove.
By Kris Prevel
March 2013

Rhossili Bay

PIPPA

BIG to small

My appetite was demanding,

My waist was expanding.

My fitness was tragic,

Definitely no magic.

I discovered a Group called 'Slimming World',

So thought, lets give it a whirl.

Sceptical, hem and haw,

Would I have to wire my jaw?

The book seemed double-Dutch,

You can eat how much?

I won't have to fast,

One can eat a full English breakfast.

Pulses, pasta, rice,

They're a good choice.

What about soup,

Yes, there's plenty of recipes in Group.

10-15 syns, put the rest in the bin,

They're not how you get thin.

Well now, how amusing,

Is the sun blazing?

Why?  Everyone's undressing,

Oh!  It's nothing exciting;  it's just the weigh-in.

Food for thought,

Food for all sorts.

Iv'e given up fat and sugar,

I think I deserve an Oscar.

Nuts and seed?

Not enough for an evening feed.

Meat and veg, yes - but sup no ale,

OMG!  No ale, I think I'd rather go to jail.

You can smoke your own fish,

Oh!  I don't know, I'll just have an easier dish.

Taster day is approaching,

So try your hand at savoury baking.

Or maybe sweet stuff is more your thing,

But don't forget to count the syns.

Shh!  I've just eaten a chocolate bar,

That had better slip beneath the radar,

Or count it in - as a syn.

Munched your way through Chinese food?

No time to brood,

Draw a line and take it as a sign 

TO STAY ON PLAN WHEN YOU CAN.

You'll get there,

If you eat the right fare.

Stay to Group and learn the ropes,

It definitely raises people's hopes.

This change of lifestyle is really worthwhile,

It makes you feel young and agile.

Diet needs policing,

But weight is decreasing.

No more dressing to disguise,

Have now dropped a dress size.

Clothes that were put away in dismay,

Are now back out and on display.

There was no need for my alarmism,

I have no more dietary scepticism.

Slimming World recipes

Are now my specialities.

I'm glad I joined this Slimming Group,

I've lost weight, Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

Now, I've achieved that desired 'look',

Because I read the 'S.W.' Book.

By Kris Prevel

Feb. 2013.