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    Wordsmith's Wanderings
    Wordsmith's Wanderings
    Wordsmith's Wanderings
    Ebook81 pages44 minutes

    Wordsmith's Wanderings

    By Ted Morgan

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    About this ebook

    Having lived a life that includes National Service, Mountain Rescue, and a career in General and Psychiatric Nursing, combined with a life of pot holing, mountain climbing and travelling the world, whilst slipping in a marathon or two, it is safe to say that Ted has seen the best and the worst of people and life.

    Using his own personal exp

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherViolet Circle Publishing
    Release dateJul 5, 2021
    ISBN9781910299098
    Wordsmith's Wanderings

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      Book preview

      Wordsmith's Wanderings - Ted Morgan

      Wordsmith’s Wanderings

      Ted Morgan

      Copyright © 2014 Edward Morgan

      First published in Hardback 2014 by Violet Circle Publishing

      ISBN 978-1-910299-04-3

      Digital ISBN 978-1-910299-09-8

      Cover illustration and all Photographs by Edward Morgan

      All rights are reserved: no part of this may be stored in a

      retrieval system, reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic,

      mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise without the prior

      written permission of the publisher, in accordance with the terms of licenses issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

      British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British

      Library.

      www.violetcirclepublishing.co.uk

      info@violetcirclepublishing.co.uk

      Dedicated to the memory of

      My darling wife

      Pat

      1944-2013

      The Wordsmith

      I think I’ll write a poem; a wordsmith I will be,

      But what the heck to write about has put me all at sea,

      So I thought that I would Google, the different types of verse,

      I think that was a bad idea, it made my thought block worse,

      I found that verse was graded into many different kinds,

      It seemed it was dependent on the rhyming of the lines

      In descriptive poems you visualise the objects of your verse,

      But writing in reflective mode your thoughts are more diverse,

      The poem in the narrative vein has a story it must tell,

      Whilst odes entwine a person or an object in its spell,

      The ballad it is musical and has a certain rhythm,

      The lyric like the ballad is tuneful, short in vision.

      Now Shakespeare he wrote sonnets in a very special way

      Whilst melancholic elegies where the forte of Mr. Grey,

      And last of all the limerick made up of lines times five,

      And naughty verse has sometimes made this latter one survive,

      With all these different kinds of verse my brain cells start to twirl,

      I don’t know which one I will choose, to write my poetic pearl,

      After hours of fruitless thinking I have a writer’s block

      My brain cells decommissioned like a ship that’s in dry dock!

      This is one of my first poems, written in 1968 when I was in hospital for three months.

      Flowers

      Flowers can say in so many ways,

      Emotions that we all portray,

      In sorrow or in gladness too,

      They can express so much to you.

      Roses, Tulips and Daffodils,

      Are given with grace in joy or ill,

      A wreath, a cross a posy small,

      Say so much when all words fail.

      We in our lives do emulate the flower,

      In all its stages from bud to death,

      We should not ever fail to find expression,

      For what we feel is mirrored in a flower.

      Mucky Pup

      When I was young my mum was there,

      to wipe a tear or straighten hair,

      Oh! I was such a mucky pup,

      who never did like washing up,

      But walked around with wrinkled socks,

      dirty shoes and mud stained tops,

      And played in all the grubby places,

      amidst my friends with dirt stained faces.

      On getting home from school each day,

      the cry was mum can I go out and play?

      I see that look upon her face,

      he’ll come back looking a disgrace,

      But never mind I know that he,

      will always be back home for tea:

      She was to me the ideal mum,

      but she did occasionally smack my bum.

      When I transgressed my mum’s rules,

      and was reported

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