Sunday, 23 September 2018


Cool and crisp is the air today,
Autumnal aromas on the breeze.
Shrubs of evergreen, all blending
with gold-flecked broad-leaf trees.

Berry-bright brown hedgerows,
a precious feast for birds to share.
Apples waiting to be harvested,
so tempting hanging there.

Cold spells will change the colours,
to Autumn glory unsurpassed.
Giving that display we love
and remember from the past.

Soon the grass will be a carpet
of russet, red and gold.
When trees shed lacy foliage,
as they have, since days of old.

Though this season brings sad memories
Of a painful time, so long ago.
I love the beauty that she brings
with her vibrant Autumn glow.

Thursday, 5 July 2018

To an Unknown Soldier.

A prose poem I'm working on about WW1. All comments welcome.

I couldn't feel the pain, hear the blasts, endure the bloodiness of it all, or see the mental scars that you carried while you still lived, as you witnessed friends and comrades dying around you.
Because I wasn't there.

I didn't see the carnage, or feel the gas blister my lungs and scar my body.
I did not experience the sickening, never-ending mud, slowly rotting my feet in sodden boots, neither did I suffer that nauseating fear in my gut, or see those shells that showered around you.
Because I wasn't there.

I never saw the damage, the aftermath of that war.
The hardship of starting over - the poverty conflict creates.  The Spanish 'flu that killed more than the war. The difficulty of carrying on or ever feeling normal again.
Because I wasn't there.

I only know the precious freedom,
we take for granted now -  at least in this country.  I hope we always have it .
Even though it all happened again, I thank you for your sacrifice in the Great War. Yes, the one that was supposed to end all wars.

Because  YOU WERE there.



A short reflective poem.   It was written at a sad period in my life. Too personal to explain but those who know me well will understand.

When I am no more, will you remember me?
Will you recognize I loved you?  A truth you couldn't see.
I hope you will recall, that I meant no harm or pain
A perfect life was something I never could attain.

When I am no more, then will you shed a tear?
I will feel no anger, no harsh words will I hear.
Whatever I think now,  it won't matter anymore.
My heart is waiting for you -  I keep an open door..

©   Ann Wilson   June 9th  2015

Friday, 29 June 2018

Reflections in the Night Garden.

A poem in progress.

I love the serenity of the dark, sensual night

An indigo sky - a full moon so bright

A myriad of stars twinkling up above,

Reminds me of the past and the angst of lost love.

One special love - I thought we'd never be parted - 

My world shattered in pieces
and left me broken hearted.

But time heals pain, a cliche, I know.

As the years roll on, you have to let it go.

Summer nights, in the garden, I reflect on it all.

Wondering why, it was so easy to fall.

But so obvious looking back,
with an amber moon above.

The night time allure
was ideal for young love.

Now I just admire the beauty of the night time display.

Happy to be here still,
I've come a long way.

Intoxicating scents from flowers all around.

Brushing past me in the darkness, moths barely make a sound.

The gentle colour changes, from a pretty solar light.

Fascinate them so, on their late evening flight.

In the dark trees above
I hear the rustling of the leaves.

It fires imagination, of the stories I might weave.

Such as witches on their broomsticks
With black cats by their side.

In the coolest, blackest sky
Their favoured territory -  they ride.

The night time garden never ceases to amaze.

A whole new world appears,
So very different from the days.

Saturday, 23 June 2018

Sentimental Summers.

This is a work in progress.

How I loved the Summer
Jewel-like flowers and lush green trees
A walk along the countryside
As I ambled at my ease.
Butterflies -  a- darting
From a myriad of flowers
How I loved to watch them all,
as I whiled away the hours.
Ripe strawberries with a tin of cream
Fresh apples, pears and plums
Delicious crumbles to be made.
All would satisfy our tums!
My favourite place is the garden,
at this special time of year
It reminds me of my father,
whose memory I hold dear
He grew so many vegetables
and lovely flowers by the score.
His dahlias and roses
are the plants I still adore.
With affection I remember,
Our rose garden at the side.
It's probably a driveway now,
Where once was Father's pride.
Then, summers seemed so magical
Playing out in meadows green.
Now houses stand in rows
And our childhood -  just a dream.

Thursday, 21 June 2018


Time is....

Another poem on the subject of time.

It's running out, it's wasted.
It's precious, so they say.
It's musical, it's happy
and it rules our every day.

It's waiting, it's forgiving.
It passes quickly, so they say.
It's looking forward, looking backward
and will never go away.

It's sadness and it's healing.
It's always marching on, they say.
It's motivation, it's in the future,
of a kinder world, a better way.

Wednesday, 20 June 2018


This poem has been published in an anthology by Forward Press. ANIMAL ANTICS 2008 under my former name Potkins.


In memory of Shannon April 11th 2007

I miss your head upon my lap,
I miss your grunts and groans.
I miss your bark, I miss your whine.
Oh, how I miss your doggy moans.

I miss seeing you in the mornings,
I miss your presence in the night.
I miss your little tufts of hair.
I miss you so, it isn't right.

I miss your lovely greeting,
I miss you treading on my feet.
I miss these little things so much
And I miss, watching you eat.

I miss seeing you in the garden,
I miss the way you'd run and play.
I miss you, when I'm home from work.
Oh, how I miss you every day.