Gillian.E. Shaw

Gillian.E. Shaw Poems

My Nanna wore an apron
for all her mornings tasks;
such a pretty shade and floral
and I have kept the last.

Bold, brave
and beautiful
strong of limb
bright of eye

And as she turns we do not feel her:
Four seasons pass in several shades;
life, the given spark to ignite the flame.
Time past is spent. Only to be

Then run along the riverside
upon a time a French King's pride
viewed vast breadth and gentle ripples;
glitter, glisten, glow and twinkle.

While the Princes slept:
An unseen hand.
While a secret kept:
Reached through their dreams.

So charming, one found him amusing:
though, even right from the beginning
he didn't know how to love women
cared nothing for loving and giving

Once there was an observant girl
who passed the eleven plus;
so after all the excitement
and a great amount of fuss;

Underground, down in the dugout
when during the second world war
a siren wailed a last warning
before the darkest pall... plunging;

Incredulous I.
Neither one appears to fear
yet so certain God is near
times trodden trail to make and mend

Soldiers awaiting departure,
a kiss for mum, cherished goodbyes,
a trio of golden haired angels
despite their 'short back and sides'.

Can one believe the artless truth
how much love costs with illicit youth?
Cast felons must pay as pay they did
legitimate choice once made well hid.

Prophetic words sung of 'Maggie's Farm'.
Remembering the horror and harm.
Squandered production so undeserved.
Resilient stronghold was 'the word'.

They waited on
a chill wet day
for the Bedford
train while it rained,

Suddenly, through a veil of tears I saw the knave.
Wearing guilt across a blighted face:
Like the ambitious wife hiding wrong and blood;
vile stubborn stain, longing to vanish.

Upon a time a grail Queen said
'Keep this until you know I'm dead.'
Of sacred oaths, twice a mother;
lily livered, watched her suffer

There was a wildness to the man
whose hand hammered at the door;
an old familiar order, a command
recognition on demand:

I'll tell you of the Jacobite
who cuts right through my heart;
heed the call of the drums and pipe
a hand on hilt ready to fight

To seek a bright and perfect light.
We walked along our chosen way
behind that hallowed twisted site;
to seek a bright and perfect light

The knowledge acquired by the gravedigger
slowly troubles and plays on the mind:
So old great-grandpa Marcus Woods
without illusions endevored to find

On, through the necropolis;
Grave or crypt or tomb?
Varied form once chosen - housed
for the time to come;

Gillian.E. Shaw Biography

G.E.Shaw Originally from Bedfordshire the poet moved to France where she works as a Teacher. Gillian E.Shaw would like to thank all those who have read and left comments after reading her poetry.)

The Best Poem Of Gillian.E. Shaw

N - The Apron

My Nanna wore an apron
for all her mornings tasks;
such a pretty shade and floral
and I have kept the last.

She washed and pressed it regularly
and placed it in a drawer
with several other aprons,
she didn't want for more.

They were always very pretty
made by her own fair hand,
with many different colors
and I'd gaze up as she'd stand.

Always standing doing something
like rolling pastry out
or frying Grandad's breakfast
cooking cakes when he was out.

She found it so important
to cover up for work...
sometimes jobs were dirty
sometimes she'd just talk.

So now I wear that apron
for my mornings tasks,
such a pretty shade and floral
I'm so glad I kept the last!

France 2003

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