Owen Cullimore
Owen Cullimore Poems
This old Pocket Watch
In 1680, made in MaidaVale
If it could talk
What a tale it could tell
...
Down in the village
In the center square
Lies a little Gothic Shop
People hardly know it's there
...
Out in the forest, deep still water's sleep
As through the bushes soft flowers peep
A reflection shines of bushes nearby
On top of the water like a quiet Angels sigh
...
She moves like an Angel with gossamer wings
with all the delights that being from heaven brings
that angelic smile that lights up a room
and her wonderful hearts glow that always lifts the gloom
...
As I sit in silence in the park
The sun shines through the trees
I feel the wind upon my cheeks
And my dress rustles in the breeze
...
Sitting in this cell
with deep regret
after a night
I will never forget.
...
As they sat on the veranda of the Hotel Exotic
Drinking the old G & T
Between reminiscing their lifelong romance
And the occasional hot pot of Tea
...
A Mythical place so far away
That legend has tempted us with for years
So sublime and tranquil
Kissed only by a Rainbows tears
...
As I sit at staring at my mobile phone, waiting
For the telephone to ring
I think maybe I will be lucky
A love letter maybe, the Postman will bring
...
The night becomes dimmer through the trees
Which gently sway in the night time breeze
The disappearing Sun glows gently in the distance
The afterglow meeting little resistance
...
Lolly was a Leprechaun
Who lived inside a Tree
A joy little fellow
As happy as could be
...
As she sits in perfect peace
The Angel sits in deepest thought
Is it of a past love she thinks?
Or just a moment that she's caught
...
Hold my hand as we walk into Paradise Lost
Through the wintry Snow and Frost
Into a make believe world of Sun and Sand
Where the flowers blossom at the touch of a hand
...
As I gaze into my Crystal Ball
What do I see
Is it the future
For you and me
...
It's a lovers Moon
Watching through the trees
As we walk hand in hand
In the cool night breeze
...
I remember our enchanted walk
Across the sand hand in hand
Towards the ebbing tide
Just you and I
...
Billy the Milkman
All smiles and talk
Went to work with a happy face
Bringing joy each place he would walk
...
Life's eternal flame glows bright
As past and present concludes to futures light
The centre of the flame burns deep
Everlasting times towards us will creep
...
Owen Cullimore Biography
I have been writing poetry for many years and try to vary my work. Hopefully people will like my poems and will make comments if they so wish. My website is poetryonline.co.uk which they may wish to visit.)
The Best Poem Of Owen Cullimore
This Old Pocket Watch
This old Pocket Watch
In 1680, made in MaidaVale
If it could talk
What a tale it could tell
The old watchmaker
Slaved away all day
To bring to life his creation
This timepiece, by the end of the day
Sold to a merchant traveling
From Bath to Bristol
When he was held up
By Dick Turpin and his pistol
So the pocket watch found a new owner
For a number of years or so
Until the day that Dick Turpin was hanged
What a way to go
For a couple of centuries
It disappeared from view
But turned up in a auction in London
From whence it came no one knew
Bought by a London banker
As a present for his son
Who was that very morning
Leaving to fight for his country at Verdun
With the watch safely in his uniform pocket
It was carried over the ocean blue
To where our gallant soldier fell in battle
Just outside the town of Acentoo
The watch was found and brought back to England
And became a family heirloom
Passed down from son to son
As wealthy families do
Now the proud possession of the Earl of Wessex
A scholar and a man of note it's true
And it still keeps perfect time
Considering all that it's been through
So always remember
When you look at something really old and battered
What history it could contain and recant
If it could talk and say what really mattered
Owen Cullimore Comments
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6/27/2026 3:17:10 AM # 1.0.0
