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Things I like


Crimson kisses

Seashell whispers

Shy hello’s to French fellows

Soft and luscious marshmallows

Deep red roses

Babies noses,

Large rolling sea waves

Mysterious beach caves,

Deep purple crushed velvet

Treasures that I have kept,

Red and brown autumn leaves

Sweet memories of sweet dreams,

children’s laughter while they play

Meeting dawn, a brand new day,

Daffodils in the spring

All the pleasures that summer can bring,

Warm sweet mulled wine

The season of Christmas time,

Making strawberry jam

The beautiful sight of a new-born lamb,

Finding words for poetry

Sitting quietly with a cup of tea,

Walking the sands in my bare feet

Enjoying the ultimate barbecue feast,

Seeing the wonderful sights of the coast

Eating a lovely Sunday roast,

Watching the ducks swim and bathe

The aroma of freshly baked bread

Cascades of colour from fireworks

Up with the lark feeling alert

Seeing the stars in the sky at night

These are all the things I like

By Gillian Sims

Majesty – Promote Yourself

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Proud trumpets of daffodils on diases of green bathe

In shafts of sunlight through the window pane glazed

Flowers discreet but radiant. Sublime, reigning supreme

 

On the lounge table they sit, jewels in winter but a dream

From their crystal blue vase they cheer the room

Even in the late evening they majestically bloom

 

Outside, plentiful daffodils, their comrades, to cool music sway

Their sworn duty to chase the last frosts out of sight, far away

Whether indoors or out, listen closely as their trumpets play a fanfare soft

Announcing that to new life and spring they point with their heads aloft.

Joanne Hayle

Daffodils: A poem by William Wordsworth – Your favourite poem

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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

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