A Poem by Forgotten

Welcome to Stroud!
My town of residence,
Now sure it ain't pretty and the skies ere' are grey,
And on most days the people are of similar disposition,
Yet there lurks deep inside,
A feeling I cannot seem to shake,
That I'm where I belong though the years have not been great,
I write upon this page of the town I was raised,
And it's impact that has made it my home. 

Come join me on a journey through the farmers markets,
We'll sample and question the wares,
They come to the streets in search of merriment and currency,
On the Saturday it's raised, the farmers market, 
From afar musicians come to play,
Bagpipes, guitar, violin yes we've heard it,
Upon this sweet summers day, 
What is it you seek a cabbage or a leek?
Or maybe some ale to quench your taste,
Be it fudge or a burger,
A sausage or a pie,
You'll find it here amongst the market.

Now this place that you see,
Holds a special place for me,
All around I'm met with wonder and awe,
As the name would suggest I do try my best,
To come again and again Time after time,
Take a look inside and there you will find a world of vintage surprise,
From suits down to dresses, 
Gloves and tie presses,
Pocket watches and jewellery to spare,
Now let's go inside and see who we'll find,
There's a man I'd like you to greet.

Here he is a fine fellow looking dapper and mellow,
This indeed is the man that I greet,
This is David the man who runs time after time,
As lovely a guy you ever would meet,
He always has something in store,
Be it a hat or a jacket,
No there was something much more,
A friend and a great one indeed,
He welcomed me in with a smile and opened my eyes,
To the world that he was living in,
I've met amazing people that I couldn't be without,
Friends who I'll cherish to the end.

Well there it is now you have it,
Let us stop of for a drink,
At the pub, The Lord John,
Here is a place with memories to spare,
I've had great nights and bad ones I'm sure,
At the end of the day you'll find me here,
Taking solitude in a pint of beer,
I'll be sad when it's time for me to leave,
The memories I've shared and the ones I dare not speak of,
Have been founded in this quaint town of Stroud,
I'll leave one day I'm sure with a tear without a doubt,
Maybe one day I'll be home once again. 

© 2014 Forgotten

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"Bagpipes, guitar, violin yes we've heard it,
Upon this sweet summers day,
What is it you seek a cabbage or a leek?
Or maybe some ale to quench your taste..." - loved the transition from guide and Narrator to market trader and back - really drew me in. The town sounds lovely.

Posted 9 Years Ago

I loved this!! It was full of so much warmth and honesty! Brilliance!

Posted 9 Years Ago

great poem i enjoyed reading it and learning about your town walking it was like walking though it .. the pictures were really nice to look at and i really liked your poem a lot it was a amazing write keep up the good work and keep on writing happy writings i rate this a 100%

Posted 9 Years Ago

Thank you for sharing this, it surely made me want to go for a walk in your town. Your hometown reminded me of my mine a lot, not that they look alike, but I also have mixed feelings for where I come from. Also, I really liked the pictures, the added a nice touch to the poem, though I wish it was a little bit longer. I would love to read (and see) more about what makes your hometown a "home".

Posted 9 Years Ago

The town look amazing. I could spend a few years living in the cozy town. I liked the photos and the description. You took me on a vacation with you in the words. Thank you for sharing your hometown with me.

Posted 9 Years Ago

I find it lovely and fascinating - from my perspective here in the high desert Southwestern US. Bagpipes on a summer day....that would be lovely indeed. Here it would be what some of us call "Chile music" although I think the closer term is "rancheras" it is a mix of Spanish folk/mariachi and German polka. I'm not a fan. I would prefer violins and pipes.

Posted 9 Years Ago

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6 Reviews
Added on August 25, 2014
Last Updated on August 25, 2014



Gloucestershire, Stroud, United Kingdom

My real name is John-Paul Crawford, I do voluntary work at Stroud FM and hopefully after my training will be allowed my own slot on air. Writing takes up most of my time, I'm always trying to better m.. more..


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