Great 
thank you, Tiffany 
Aching
1 Like
Many thanks, AliceWonderland. 
1 Like
Lasting Friendship
Just like our lives, many changes
With friends, as they move around,
But then, perhaps, maybe only once,
A lasting friendship is found.
No matter how you have met,
Right there from the start,
This person will have a special place
Deep within your heart.
Which lasts for years
Through everything,
The rough, the smooth,
Far distancing.
Youâll hold on to this friendship,
The storms youâll both have weathered,
For friendship like this, in one lifetime,
Is a miracle to be treasured.
3 Likes
The Haunting of Wheal Rose
Black Damp and Fire Damp,
Seeping through the stones,
Widowmaker rock-drills,
Loosing flesh from bones.
Pasty pastry crusts and handles,
Tossed, left where they lay,
A tribute to the Piskies,
To keep bad luck at bay.
Four-man gang, digging ore,
Candles stuck to tarred felt hats,
Shooting sparks from pick on rock,
Scatter the scavenging rats.
Erupting blasting powder,
Flash-burns and a deafening roar,
Men and tools and pit-props,
Crashing to the floor
Buried in a rock-fall,
Clawing his way out,
Belton! Thomaas! Roddo!
For his workmates he did shout.
Fighting through choking dust,
The pump-rod, dimply lit,
He staggered to the ruined shaft,
To escape the crumbling pit.
The adit blocked and riser smashed,
Water gushed into the mine,
Fighting against the rushing torrent,
Towards daylight he began to climb.
Strange men with flameless lanterns,
Set upon their hats of yellow,
Horror struck, gazed down upon him,
Lit outwith carbide or tallow.
Wordless shrieks escape their mouths,
Screaming as they ascend,
Scrambling over the pit-head rim,
Actions he could not comprehend.
Children dressed in strange garb,
On piles of tailings made play,
But on seeing the dishevelled miner,
In terrorem did run away.
Looking about for reasons why,
Nobody would come near,
Then looked upon the Whinâ House,
And stood himself in fear.
No beam or engine could he see,
No whim gear was in sight,
Walls and doors and windows gone,
Put him in a terrible fright.
Now the pump and pipe and rod,
Faded before his eyes,
The once familiar landscape
He could no more recognise.
By the ruined buildings,
Where rock-stamps once did pound,
He stood stock-still, bewildered,
Downcast eyes upon the ground,
Reflected in an oily puddle,
âneath a set of rusting gears,
The man looking back at him,
Had been dead for a hundred years.
© July 2025
Wheal = Cornish word for a mine
Image of a Cornish Tin Mine. Inside would be a massive steam engine driving a massive pump-rod (or winding gear) via a massive rocking iron beam
Piskies = Cornish Pixies
Pasty = A complete cooked meal in pastry, sometimes with fruit at one end. The crusts, or sometimes pastry handles, would be used to hold the pasty then thrown away as a tribute to Mine Gods. (The practical reason for this was to prevent heavy metal poisoning transferred from the minersâ hands).
Widow-makers = Massive pneumatic drills that would shake the minersâ so badly that it would drastically reduce their lifespan.
Whinâ = Winch
Whim = Winding drum and associated drive gear.
Adit = Horizontal shaft to drain water from the mine.
Carbide = Acetylene Carbide that would produce a combustible gas when mixed with water, used to power minerâs lamps.
Black Damp = A mixture of unbreathable gases devoid of oxygen. An asphyxiant.
Fire Damp = Methane Gas
Riser = Pipe used to pump water out of a mine
Tarred Hats = A method of reinforcing hats. Early hard-hats.
Tailings = None ore-bearing spoil.
Pump-Rod = Massive wooden rod attached to one end of the massive iron beam, made in sections bolted one above the other, with valves and pumps attached to draw water up from a sump in stages from the bottom of the mineshaft.
1 Like
That gave me goosebumps, Fruitcake.
1 Like
Thanks. Iâve added a bit more at the end to explain some of the terminology.
1 Like
Thatâs a classic Spitty donât worry about the critics 
4 Likes
Floyd.
At the door I feel the stir
Of a furry face aquiver with purr
I turn around to look,
Take my mind from my book
His eyes are pleading
His paws are kneading
âLet me inâ, he is saying
âYou know me, Iâm not playingâ!
âThatâs what Iâm standing here forâ!
So I rise from my chair
To let in with the air
The cat from next door.
2 Likes
The Old Man
I looked in the window and saw an old man,
He was old as old can be,
I gave him a smile and a friendly wave,
And he smiled and waved back at me.
His face was stubbled and in need of a shave,
It was wrinkled and ravaged by time,
But it wasnât a window I was looking in,
It was a mirror, and the face was mine.
6 Likes
At sixty five I had not met
The cyberspace, the internet
My OH bought a home PC
Said weâd both use it, him & me.
Firstly I was scared to try
Touching it, I donât know why
Then one day on the BBC
Springwatch they said had boards for free
And put a link to find the site
I was addicted from that night.
Trial and error as I branched out
Eureka I would shout
When I got it right
From being far to scared to try
I now across the net can fly.
5 Likes
Excellent Tiff⊠
1 Like
Thank you OGF.
1 Like
This is one I composed for my âthenâ girlfriend on Valentineâs Day in lock down, 2020. She lived/lives in Belgium, and because of travel restrictions it was nearly 18 months before I could fly out to visit her.
No baskets of flowers
Or a fresh red rose
No you in my arms
Iâd want to enclose
No touching, no smiles
No chocolates in a box
No kissing your lips
And no fancy frocks
No whispers âI love youâ
Oh, isnât it a crime?
Ifâ I canât be with you
My lonely Valentine
4 Likes
I just realised, I wrote the poem in February 2021, not 2020, that was when we first met online on a music appreciation website.
2 Likes
Inspired by events witnessed whilst waiting for a bus outside a hospital.
For those of you not from the UK: -
A Shout - An emergency call
Green and white - Ambulance livery
Blues and Twos - Flashing blue lights and two tone siren, often referred to as a Nee-Naw
Welly - (Wellington) Boot - putting your foot down to accelerate
The golden hour - The most critical time immediately following an injury or illness
The Shout
Cars and busses, heavy traffic,
People milling all around,
Then I hear it coming,
That so distinctive sound.
Waiting at a bus stop,
Sitting, reading a good book,
The wailing noise approaching,
I pause to take a look,
Green and white, with spinning strobes,
Alternate headlights flash,
Through a gap between some cars,
The driver makes a dash.
She stares hard, straight ahead,
Sirens echo off the wall,
Up the hill on blues and twos,
An ambulance on a call.
Driver scanning left and right,
Danger all about,
Sirens change to high pitch warble,
Paramedics on a shout.
Slowing at the junction,
Making sure it all is clear,
Welly down and on she goes,
The golden hour is dear.
On and on and up the hill,
Hard right turn ahead,
Flashing past a line of cars,
The lights have turned to red.
Carving through the traffic,
Precision, slicing like a knife,
On and round and out of sight,
To save somebodyâs life.
Not all heroes wear capes.
1 Like
Good Advice
Never use your hand as a hammer,
My old dad once said to me,
Youâll damage it and be in lots of pain,
Then where will you be?
âMove it from here, to here, and back again,â
As he mixed concrete with a spade,
His dad taught him how to do it,
And he was a stonemason by trade.
If it wonât fit use a hammer,
Or mallet if youâre working with wood,
It will fit if youâve made it properly,
Well at least, I hope that it should.
If the pilot says, EJECT,â
Never ask them âWhy,â
Or you will find yourself to be
The loneliest one in the sky.
When things go wrong,
Donât make it worse,
Just take a step back,
And have a good curse.
You can rail at the sky,
Or complain to your god,
But itâll do no good,
Itâs just the Law of Sod.
Always read the label,
No matter what you are looking at,
Food, or flat-pack instructions,
Or the size of a Trilby Hat.
When a fire alarm sounds,
Leave straight away,
Real or false doesnât matter,
Youâll get to live another day.
When walking on roads face the traffic,
Wear something white at night,
When crossing over look both ways,
Then you wonât get a nasty fright.
Never run with scissors,
Thatâs what kids were always told,
Never play with matches,
And you might live to grow old.
3 Likes
The Cateract
Tumbling down the cataract,
Rainbows forming in the air,
Torrent roars, and tinkling sounds,
Splashing water everywhere.
Down and down the rocky slope,
Plunging to the pool below,
Dogs barking, children laughing
Running beside the water flow.
Stepping stones across the stream,
Hopping, skipping, falling in,
Picnics on the river bank,
Parents watch their children swim.
Flashing past the crumbling Mill,
The Leat all choked with weeds,
The breeze through dandelion clocks,
Letting go all their seeds.
Narrow, swifter, foaming currents,
Heading for the weir,
Warning signs all around,
DO NOT SWIM NEAR HERE!
Slower, wider, ripples forming,
Fish and birds abound,
Coloured streaks in air and water,
Cries of, âLook at what Iâve found!â
Through the town and out beyond,
Past bridges old and new,
People passing overhead,
Stop to admire the view.
Streams and rivers joined the flow,
Pushing toward the tide,
Bobbing floats and fishing boats,
Along the harbourside.
Its journeyâs end is now in sight,
As it slows to meet the sea,
Spring water mingling with the salt,
Where now it can run free.
3 Likes
Hi Fruitcake, Your poem is brilliant. I wrote similar poems about riversâŠ
The Erme
Fast flowing river from moorland source
Cuts channels deep,swift on itâs course
Ripples and eddies as current swirls
Around great boulders it foams and curls
Under Ivybridge, an ancient pack
(Did smugglers use it as a track?)
Rushing downwards and flowing free
'Til at Mothecome it meets the sea.
The Lud
Stand in the shallows on a sunny Summer day
And listen to the music as it ripples on itâs way
Swift and deep in Winter, in Summer calm and still
The horses dip their heads to drink their fill
They stand together in restful doze
Around their legs cool water flows
While my friend and I blissfully gaze
Into the wide and distant haze.
Rising from a Dartmoor marsh
Flows the Lud through landscape harsh
Which in Summer shows a different face
The hills softened in heat muted space
1 Like
I can see the similarities. Lovely stuff.
1 Like
Thank you, Fruitcake.