Bewitched by all the elements,
The tousled hair, the cold, red nose,
Small price to pay for the magic path to dampened cheeks & frozen toes.
Hurrah for snowflakes tickling my chin, that sit on my eyebrows, then melt on my skin!
Rejoice as the wind blows strong & uncouth, though it wrinkles my face & steals my youth,
Dance free in the rain & forget who’s around,
If it’s heavy enough deep puddles will be found!
Feel the eerie mystery of grey mist & fog,
Scary shadows & sounds, wide-eyed face all agog!
Then open your arms, feel the warmth, so adored,
Close your eyes, & enjoy the sun’s rays..your reward!
I wrote this poem after being inspired by a beautiful cross headstone in the church graveyard. I love the art nouveau design, & how the moss & lichen cling to the stone, adding to its character of age. It made me wonder about the person who lies below. It’ll most likely still be there long after I’ve gone, so other generations of our changing world will also never meet the individual, but may also be curious about them & how they lived their life. The other grave caught my eye, as the sun shone directly on it, this morning. However, today is also Holocaust Memorial Day in the UK, so it seems appropriate to share. …………………………………………………………..
Life can seem like reflections,
A complete, aligned universe,
Something the same, only different,
A blessing, or maybe a curse.
Another place, happening all over,
We’re certain we’ve seen it before,
Look carefully into the image,
Is it the same, are you sure?
One is straightforward & sturdy,
The other takes on a new form,
There’s ripples, rubbed lines, jagged edges,
Far from the strong, from the norm.
Where do moles go in the snow?
Does anyone see, does anyone know?
Their little hands must be frozen blue,
With all that digging they have to do!
I think they need some tiny wellies,
Mini hot water bottles warming their bellies,
Beanie hats to cover their heads,
Soft, down quilts to line their beds.
Extra thermal, strong, wee gloves,
That should help the velvety loves.
The present has the moment, though written by the past,
The future has the pencil and is running forward, fast!
Sometimes there is learning, sometimes there is fun, sometimes there is sorrow, how it all rolls into one.
Our story, how we got here, how we’re living,
will go on,
So take the pencil, future, & draw how you have won!
The pavements could be narrow, the thoughts be halcyon, the roads still long & travelled..but far too soon, are gone!
Crisp, gentle snowflake, gracefully down, you float.
Meandering on chilly breeze
In ornate, frozen coat.
Your lightening-white, bright plumage,
Plumping up the ground,
Can you help make the softest pillow ever to be found?
It pains that such a stunning form can disappear from view,
A downy feather falling, swirling, whispering, “Adieu!”
This tiny winter wonderland and all the joy it brings,
A fleeting moment caught in time, replaced by angel wings.
Dress me in exquisite lace,
Let finest threads adorn my face.
Drape the sumptuous velveteen; chic, vibrant colours, mine to glean.
Around my neck place pearls & gold, the most expensive to be sold.
Why trade this for the life I own, for walking through this place alone?
The only riches I could need, are here, my soul has woken, freed!
It’s the perfect day, I’m digging for diamonds!
But oh! What a big shock I got!
Before I could even reach for my spade,
I spied them all sitting on top!
They sat there, bright, twinkling, and calling me on,
I must fill my pockets, I thought!
Right then something hit me, but what will folks say? My sly little plan could be caught!
I stood, cold, & wondered, at just the right time,
From behind dark clouds came the warm sun.
I turned round to ogle my diamonds, once more, & couldn’t believe…they were gone!!
Silver, see-through droplets run slowly down each blade,
Shining like bright diamonds, under hedgerow, field, and glade,
But soon they flow together, like a tiny river run,
Drip, drop onto soil, or puddle, waiting for the sun.
Welcome to my poetry blog, & thank you for visiting! Hello! My name is Debbie Jones, and I write original poems and post my own accompanying photographs under the name of Gloria Smud..a play on the words for “Glorious Mud.”
I hope you’ll enjoy walking with me to experience some of the sights, & my inspirations from the beautiful, Welsh countryside in & around the village of Llangunllo, in Powys, where I live, with my husband, Trev.
The 11th November 2017 turned out to be the start of a very memorable journey indeed! After living in Birmingham for the whole of my 56 years, up until then, it was time for a change, a huge one! On that Armistice Day, with the help & support of family, I finally relocated to Llangunllo, in Powys, Wales, along with husband, Trev & all our worldly goods.
We only had an inkling for what was in store. Urban city life is fast; bustling, busy, hectic, and noisy. We were used to that hubbub. Eventually, you don’t hear the constant hum of vehicles, passing a few metres from your house. You don’t notice the changes, slowly happening in the familiar streets of your neighbourhood.
All amenities are close by, or easily accessible…the list goes on. Llangunllo was the polar opposite, we knew, & craved that difference from city living, after Trev’s recent retirement. So, here we were, in this quiet, small village that we’d never heard of only a few months ago.
Photography & first poetic inspirations
I’d been interested in photography since I was a young girl, after receiving the gift of a camera from my cousin. Over the years, the types of camera I owned progressed, as did my curiosity for many photographic subjects. Latterly, I became especially interested in capturing different aspects of the urban areas of the city; architecture, street art, street photography etc. However, every time I found myself surrounded by nature; in a park or more often, in the large, old cemetery close to where we lived; emotions & words stirred within me, & I’d form poems in my head.
Rarely, did I write them down. I’d often added verses to greetings & sympathy cards, flowers, etc for friends & loved ones, in order to add that personal touch. I did start to jot the occasional poem down, the first one, strangely enough, on Armistice Day 2011. The jottings were few & far between, and the book remained, mostly, at the back of a drawer.
It didn’t take long, and we soon settled into our new, & beautiful, rural Welsh location.
It was time to start exploring, taking my camera out & about in the local area, and discovering the fauna & flora it had to offer. I decided to start walking regularly, along the mile and a half route, on the lanes of the village, known as “the triangle” I quickly fell in love with everything about this new wonder location, watching the seasons change, whatever the weather.
The Beast From The East
We had to contend with some of the heaviest snowfall in years, as “The Beast from the East” visited the UK, that Winter. To make up for it, we enjoyed the weeks of wonderful sunshine that arrived during the Summer of 2018. Armed with my camera, or using the camera on my phone, & adding a macro lens, I became fascinated with capturing the emerging growth, & decay of the vegetation, seeing the mini-beasts in close-up, and trying to befriend the local sheep & cows. The effects of the changing weather & conditions on the landscape & cloud formations also made their mark, and all became immersive & totally inspirational.
Once again, I found myself composing poems in my head, but not committing them to paper. It was time to change, as the words were spilling out & filling my mind, and it seemed ridiculous to fight this creativity, that was being ignored.
It was kick-started by a short rhyme I wrote, in September 2018, in remembrance of a dear friend, on the 1st anniversary of her passing. That was the key that opened the door. It became easy to type all my thoughts, ideas & fully formed poems into the notes on my phone, and use it to take photos of the particular thing that inspired them, on my walks. Poetry was still, “my secret” but my collection was growing. On October 4th 2018, I retrieved my little book from the back of the drawer. It was National Poetry Day, so I dared to post a poem on Facebook that I’d written in 2013 for National Poetry Day that year. I was taken aback by the positive comments & surprise that I’d written poetry. After sharing, with family, a more recent verse & inspired photos, they encouraged me to start publishing them.
To start with, I decided It would be easy to post on Instagram. I wanted a separate poetry page from my other photography account, so decided to use a different name. “Glorious Mud” came to mind, mud being something you see everywhere, without noticing its qualities, unless you look a little closer. Like a lot of nature, we see it but don’t always really look! Unfortunately that name was already in use. Realising I could make a name from the words, it fitted perfectly, & there wasn’t anyone with the name Gloria Smud..success! Now I’ve unlocked that door, the ideas keep flooding out, as I walk & soak up what I experience, in detail..and hopefully, will continue to do so. Thank you for reading.
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