Section: «Poems»

Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings: artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.); a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").

A Day At The Races

I'm going down to Epsom on this our Derby dayI've got lots of cash so I expect to make it pay.I'm going to the bookies ive got a few pounds.I've put..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Tiny Bit Of Self Belief

I am no poet, because people have told me so.I am no story teller, that at least I know.I could never be a Novelist because I have no flarebut I have..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Garden Army

Come down to my garden and see the armyno my friends I have not gone barmy. They areout in force dressed in red and black armour,each and everyone a..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Kitchen Lament

Why does the fly create so much havocwhen he is just passing his time awayHe comes through your window lookingfor food, how can he be so rude. He..

© Sylvia Spencer

Battery Needed

Why is my clock always slow?It always plays up, when there issomewhere to go. Why does my clocknever tell the right time, when it readsten minutes to..

© Sylvia Spencer

The Message Of Poetry

How can I think of serious things,when the air is alive,with the flutter of wings,How can I focus on writing a sonnetWhen the lady beside me,is..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Convict Branded

Crammed in like cattle on a diat of biscuits and water.Straight out of Newgate like lambs being led to slaughter.Sentenced to deportation for..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Buttercup Tale

I know of a buttercup with a story to telland I can honestly say there has never been astory told so well. A pretty buttercup so wild and freeonce..

© Sylvia Spencer

Middle Age

Middle age has a balance,between the young and old.I sometimes feel it's better,Than a shining pot of gold.It gives you all the things,that life has..

© Sylvia Spencer

House And Home

Windows sparkling bright,without a touch of dust.White plastic framesto stop corrosion and rust.Outside and inside,always looking new.These people..

© Sylvia Spencer

Where Are Friends

Where are friends, oh where are theyCan I see them from a farFriends are like gold dust, but will we ever knowIf they are sincere, or like a falling..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Conscientious Clock

He sits on the mantelpiece all fat and roundstriking on the hour to a chiming sound.With roman numerals and an antiquated faceticking all day long at..

© Sylvia Spencer

Feed The Birds

Birds of Britain, I watch them fly highbeautiful birds as they wing to the sky.They are a star studded spangle of graciouscharm. A bird on a wing so..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Boy And A Wave

He stood on the hill looking down over the sea,the tide was coming in and it was time for tea.He was not hungry so he thought he wouldstay a while..

© Sylvia Spencer

Easter Eggs

Buy me an Easter Egg with bunnies all aroundI think you can buy them for less than a pound.Buy me one in a basket, with a bow on topthey sell them..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Rainy Day

Once I had a money box where I saved for a rainy daybut the funny part about it, the rain never went away.I would put money in and then take it out..

© Sylvia Spencer

Where Is Christmas

Where is Christmas that holy night when a star shone outso clear and bright.Where is Christmas when a child was born and there in amanger he lay meek..

© Sylvia Spencer

The Modern Valentine

This child had a Valentine,This strange ungracious thing.It really pleased her little heart,and made her voice sing.She had a stream of..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Lonely Weekend

How bright it is on a Friday, when I am away from everythingthat seems so wrong, when I am here in this haven and all thebirds are in song. It does..

© Sylvia Spencer

Four Just Flowers

My name is Primrose, I live in the east,I am most hardy, as to say the least.My nature is sweet, tender and mellow,and my petals are a brightly..

© Sylvia Spencer

An Intruder

In this place of silence and gloom,sits an intruder on a mossy tombHe is a very small bird with a colourful breast,and the crumbling graves, are his..

© Sylvia Spencer

Happy Endings

Is there always a happy ending,to every song and a story.Some are happy, and others weep,and then there are those,that finish in glory.Is there a..

© Sylvia Spencer

A Bricklayers Lament

I know an old tradesman who worked with sand and cement.Now the story I am going to tell you turned out to be his lament.His work was done to..

© Sylvia Spencer

Treasured Friends

Off to war, went two young men one named Jack,and the other Ben. Jack was strong a fierce fighting man,where Ben was weak and always ran. Jack would..

© Sylvia Spencer

Tormented

I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused,then Mum says' go back to school!.'Oh! but Mum, do I have to,everyone can be so cruel! So back to..

© Sylvia Spencer