A Poem by poeticpiers

epic poem




There is a garden where the sun

reflects from rough cast whitewashed walls.

Close by the quiet river runs

here you can hear the soft bird calls.


The scents of lavender and sage,

which grow near to the lilac trees.

Compete with fields of blue borage

to draw to them the questing bees.


The lawn of moorland turf is neat

and everywhere the flowers boom.

The honey smell of meadowsweet

is mingling with the perfumed broom.


This garden is a sheltered spot.

Where old and tired from the fray

I sit and doze when it is hot

and ponder in my quiet way.


I think about the things I’ve seen

and well loved people I have known

The many places I have been

in travels ‘fore I was full grown.


My wandering feet have carried me

to distant lands of snow and ice.

Some lands without a single tree

and tropic isles like paradise .


I always yearned to go back home

but there was always more to see

When I was young I had to roam

across the world by land and sea.


My questing mind gave me no peace

hard lessons I was forced to learn.

Wisdom granted me release

a truth I found I had to earn.


The fire of youth burns low with age.

springy step turns to measured tread

I learnt my quest was a mirage

and came back to where I was bred


Although it’s changed it’s still the same.

I see it now through different eyes

and seek no more for fortunes fame.

I realise to my surprise


I need not have travelled at all.

As all the knowledge I’ve obtained

I could have gained within ths walls

of this small garden .Now maintained


by younger men in their full strength.

Who serve me  with touching awe

As one who’s seen the breadth and length

Of the whole world .As he sought for





the secrets other lands could show.

Who's been to Canada and Rome.

Seen desert lands and fields of snow

But has returned at last to home.


A field stone house with roof of thatch,

a garden sheltered from the wind.

There was nowhere else could match

the dream he carried in his mind.


Of Applegarth,  old Applegarth

a house that’s filled with memories

It’s been his family’s home and hearth

for nigh on seven hundred years.


There’s little left of the wide lands

This proud family used to own

but what there is  Is my homeland.

belongs to me and me alone.


This quiet garden in the sun

the Rowan tree that provides shade.

I know my race is nearly run

and wonder if I made the grade.


Each morn I wake and greet the day.

Determined that I will enjoy

Whatever treats may come my way

As carefree as a little boy


The little boy I used to be

Before my wanderlust took hold

and drove me overland and sea.

I only learned as I grew old


That I could live contentedly

at Applegarth   and only here.

Where I was always meant to be

 a message I was slow to hear.

© 2013 poeticpiers

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I think this must have been Ivor's last poem. I believe he died about this time, a great loss to poetry, and to our readers. R.I.P. Ivor.... Poeticpiers.

Posted 6 Years Ago

This writing holds a certain mystery and intrigue that certainly charms and engages the reader..

Posted 9 Years Ago

These are the reason I review so much, the discovery of a perfectly written, quality poem that deserves to be widely read, a little gem of a I advise all you guys out there to have a look at this..

Posted 10 Years Ago

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3 Reviews
Added on March 4, 2013
Last Updated on March 4, 2013




I am poeticpiers but system refused to recognise my ID SI I reregistered more..