Poem; Christmases so long ago.

I remember Christmases' of long ago,
When it seemed always to snow,
And it's sparkle hung in the air,
 everywhere.
I   remember on Christmas Eve
Joyce and I were so excited.
That mum said, "You two, off
To bed, or I fear Father Christmas
Will not call here."
I remember snuggling down in
Bed, listening to the story my
Sister told, of the three wise men
Of old. What a picture she painted
In my mind, of the baby Jesus
In a manger, where his parents
Were strangers.
I remember being so excited I
Could  not sleep, and even though
I counted sheep I remained awake,
Until Joyce said, "For goodness sake,
Settle down, because if you keep
Awake he'll take our stockings to
Somewhere else."
I remember listening for the sound
Of sleigh bells, coming down the lane,
But head stuffed under the counterpane
I fell asleep, and sure enough next
Morning he had been.
I remember singing carols to Mrs Bengry,
You had to sing two or more, afore
She would come to the door bearing
Mince pies, always a lovely surprise.
We ate them on the way to our Neighbour
Next door, so good to eat and what a treat!
I remember waiting until afternoon,
When our small gifts were given, and
Though they were all that could be
Afforded, it was the thought that
Counted, which amounted to our day.
I remember the warm feeling of
Our family getting together, round
The tree, covered in cotton wool
And bright baubles which gleamed,
And, it seemed to me to be magical.
And best of all I remember you
Joyce, telling me all those stories
Night after night in bed, or you read
A book by candle light, I loved those
Nights. And I hope this Christmas
wherever you are, be it on some
Bright star, that you know, I
Remember you most of all.
Happy Christmas Vic and Joyce,
Loved forever.

Augustine Nash.

Augustine Nashs' E Books.

Hi everyone, if you are looking for good e books to read over Christmas take a look at my latest ones on ' Amazon Augustine  Nash e books'
'Aside the Margaret River' is the story of three generations of a family living in Western Australia, read how they lived in those early days.
'Nailed' is a murder story, fast moving, tragic, and you won't know who done it until the end!
'Wilfred Owen: Pro Patria Mori' is the life story of this famous poet who was killed in action in the First World War at the age of 23 years, 3 days before the war ended. He is thought to be the greatest war poet of his time and some of his poems are in this e book.
'The Camera never Lies' is a murder story where you know who did it, but is he going to get caught?
I wish you all a very happy and peaceful Christmas and New Year. Augustine Nash.

Poem; A Grey day.

The fog is thick out there,
And I can only just see
The holly trees, red berries
Stripped by birds, and not
A sound to be heard.
The fog brings grey and
Gloom into my room,
It lurks like some wild
Beast, threatening to
Feast on my old bones,
I am home alone.
The fog is thick out there,
And I remember when
You and I, travelling on
Your motor bike, was delayed
For the night,
So thick we could not
See road or trees, and
As we walked along,
You burst into song,
"Show me the way to go home."
The fog is thick out there,
And from my chair I
Look out, nothing, no one
About, grey as the day
You went away.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; I followed his fame.

I hated football,
Was never a fan,
Until this man,
Waltzed into my life,
On the TV screen,
Clean-cut, handsome
And it seemed,
Gave his all.
I had never heard his
Name, though he had
Already rose to fame,
But that mattered not
To me, when I watched
Him leap into the air
After scoring a goal
I was hooked, lined
And sinkered at the
Joy on his face, at
Winning for the UK.
I have watched him come
And go over the years,
Standing out  with that
Smile and face,
Of grace.
As I said, I am not
A fan of football,
Until that one moment
So long ago,
When he made my heart
Flow with faith,
That a young man who
Gave all his best, high was
Above the rest,
Yes, David Beckham
Was that man, who
has ended up a rich man,
Due to his own strength,
Long will he remain at length
in my heart.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Seasons.

Every second of every minute
Of every hour I watch the
Seasons pass, through my
Window panes, come sun, snow
Or rain.
Spring is best when bulbs begin
To show, and grow into tulips
And daffodils, and buds form
On the bare branches, so enchanting.
Summer brings the sun when my
Roses are in bloom, I can see
Them from this room. And your
Bush bearing big blue trumpet
Flowers, I could look at for hours.
Bees buzz amongst the flocks,
Mother would have loved so much,
Pink, white and blue, smelling
Of scent the whole day through.
And butterflies flit here and there
Through the warm air, so beautiful
To see, they mesmerise me.
Now here comes Autumn with
A glow on it's face, turning leaves
From green to red, mists begin to
Rise, right before my eyes. Apples
Can be found littering the ground,
The last of the blackberries picked,
And mushrooms appear every year.
I know when winter is here,
When north winds blow and we shall
Have snow, and icicles hang from
The shed, shining in the poor light,
My delight. Snowflakes fall silently
Down, covering the ground, and
Everything is coated in white, what
A sight to behold, worth more than
Gold. And Christmas is on it's way,
Any day soon, with all that it brings,
Decorations up and many things
Hidden away, for the great day.
Yes, I watch the seasons come and go
From my chair, wishing I was out there.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Mum was so clever.

When I gaze outside my window
Unable to go out there,
I want to share with you
Events cast in my mind, like stone.
Most Sundays in the summer
Under a blazing sky, Mum
And I went for walks, across
The field, or up the lanes,
Where I gained my knowledge
Of Nature.
"What's the name of that flower?"
Mum would demand, and if I
Could not remember, she would say,
"I only told you the other day!"
Every grass was named, every tree,
Every bird, every wild flower I
 Learned in those instructive
Hours. "Hold up a piece of grass
 and it will show which
Direction the wind blows"
I was told.
She even named every apple
On the trees, carefully pointing
Out the country code,
First use the ones on the ground,
If there are any to be found.
Even in those hard times she
Would insist, "No collecting birds
Eggs, I would rather see them
Perched in trees, if you please."
And half way up the lane we
Would stop at the well and
Slurp water out of our hands,
It was grand.
And way back then my mother
Bestowed on me a priceless gift
A love of the countryside,
Where beauty still abounds,
All around.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Grenville.

I stood there, in the warm air
Listening to the sounds,
Carrying through the air,
Beside my brother's grave.
You were too young to die,
I remember mum saying, "Why?"
This church is only small
And cool inside, and I can't
Hide the memories of long ago,
Those hymns still flow
In my brain, like the sound
Of pattering rain.
I stood and listened to familiar
Sounds,  all around. Humming
Of bees filled the air, and a cock
Crowed, somewhere over there,
And a lawnmower shattered
The sound, all around.
I remember the time they
Laid you to rest, Grenville,
That was a summer's day too,
I was young too, and felt
Such grief and pain,
That I would never see you again.
I stood in the warm air,
Placing the flowers on your grave,
With such familiar sounds
And I knew wherever you are,
You will be a bright shining star.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Such was life.

My sister and I lay
On our faces in the long grass,
Watching the insects pass.
The sun shone down on
Our backs and we could
Hear the quacks of the ducks
Over on the pond, curled up
Together, enjoying the hot weather.
And over the hill the cows
Peacefully cropped the grass,
Waiting to be milked.
Joyce and I lay under
A blue sky, pretending the long
Grass was a jungle, where
Wild beasts lurked, with open
Jaws, and fearsome teeth,
But what we only saw was
Daises by the score,
And buttercups, golden in the sun,
We had such fun.
Our imaginations roamed far
From home, to an imaginary place,
Lying on our face.
And in the back yard we heard,
Mums birds, clucking away,
A magical sound, as we lay
On the ground in the field.

Poem; Mans inhumanity...

Their faces stare out from my TV screen,
With lack-lustre eyes and tears on
Their face, it is a disgrace.
In today's world why should they starve,
Thirsty for water, and skeleton bodies,
No roof over their head, no bed.
These little black faces haunt my day,
And I want to shout, and say,
Why should this be?
We who have everything and
Still inclined to moan no
Nothing of this suffering far from home,
We bask in affluence while the
Other half starve, hardened to the
Fact of what others lack.
And if your like me and do despair,
Don't turn the other way,
Act, and give something today.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; A moment of freedom.

Autumn leaves are falling down,
Piling up upon the ground,
Flurries of wind blow them up
Again, and I remember once more,
On days like this walking to school,
And when I came to Segan wood,
I stood, looking at bare branches,
Not enchanting.
I would skip along the edge  of
The road, kicking the leaves
Scuffing my shoes with holes
In the soles, dancing along
With my head in the clouds,
Laughing out loud.
I burst with pleasure, my
Seventh Heaven, free from
All woes, for a little while,
Imagining I was a lady of style.
A moment in time I never forget,
Or regret.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Regrets.

You and I never said goodbye,
I never told you that
Through all the years of
Happiness and tears,
How much I loved you.
I never got the chance
To hold your hand and
Say "You were the greatest
Husband any day."
I never told you all those
Things I wanted to say,
How you were there for us all,
Giving your best,
I was so blessed.
I have a picture in my memory
Of you, dressed in Air Force Blue,
Taking me by the hand, into
An unknown land, where we
Stuck it out through thick and
Thin, never giving our love away
Until the day, God took you
By the hand and you journeyed
To his land to take your place
In his grace.
We never said goodbye, and I
Am wracked with remorse, of course
I know what you would say,
"Let it go, it will all work out,
You wait and see, and I'll be
Waiting there, me and Flossie."
We never said goodbye...We never said
Farewell, and I am left with the
Hell of missing you and it's true
We never said goodbye...
Augustine Nash.

Augustine Nash Books: My new book out now, 'Wilfred Owen:Pro Patria Mori...

Augustine Nash Books: My new book out now, 'Wilfred Owen:Pro Patria Mori...: Hi everyone, My new book is now out and can be viewed @ Amazon.co.jp: Title, 'Wilfred Owen: Pro Patria Mori.' e Book. Augustine Na...

Poem; What's to come.

I know that winter is on the way,
When my paper says,
Snow up north.
Predictions are flying around,
Will there be snow on the ground
On Christmas Day, who is to say?
The long grey days are here
And lights go on at three
In the afternoon, and soon
The bitter cold will arrive,
Yet somehow we survive.
A Robin sat on my window-sill,
In his posh red jacket
He trilled away, making my day.
It was decades ago when I
Loved the snow, and skating
On the pond, which Joyce
And I were fond.
Sliding along the road to school
On the ice, oh! so cool.
But now I view winter from
My chair, silent and still outside,
As if there is no-one else
In the world.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; What we take for granted.

The wind roared, then came the rain,
A electricity cut again.
Its dark out there, are any trees down,
Or, are they about to fall on my roof?
No light, no hot water to make my tea,
Woe is me.
No lap-top to take up my time,
No TV, no radio, so I go to bed
By five pm.
One, two, then three days go by,
Where I am feeling the cold,
And I while away the long hours
Trying to read a book,
So boring, I am not hooked.
Oh! how I yearn for a cup of tea.
At last I return to the land of sane,
It's back on again!
Can you imagine the relief and joy,
The thankfulness, and the luxury of toast!
I shout out, "Hurrah!" at last back to normal,
But wait,
I read in the paper today, another storm on the way,
And we had all better run for cover,
Devastation is in store,
Need I say more?
Augustine Nash.

Poem; A moment caught in time.

My thoughts' reach back
To a time, when there was
No entertainment, and you and I
Went to Nell's Café.
I was only sixteen, but thought
I had it all, when the jute-box called.
We sat drinking coffee, you and I
Listening to Johnny Ray, singing
The songs of that day.
Uniformed figures stood around,
And then, when the music stopped
It was put on again...and again!
The music played on, 'Walking my
Baby back home,' and 'Little white
Cloud that cried,' and I, with others
Was up on cloud nine, when in
My world everything was fine.
There was 'Sugar' the cook,
Only five feet tall, who was
Arrogant and cocky, trying to
Pull all the girls, who laughed,
Not wanting to give him a whirl.
And there was Andy, who wore
Teddy-boy clothes, sporty a D A
Haircut, a Londoner who looked
Out of place, in this  uptown place.
They all came here from the camp
Up the road, to find a friendly face.
You and I were so in love,
And on the way home on your motorbike,
You would sing to me on the darkest night,
'Walking my baby back home.'
Those were magical moments
That I recall, when I had you,
And wanted nothing more.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; The luck of the Devil!

Have you ever had one
Of those weeks, where nothing
Goes right, and you cry in the night?
First, my budgie, Joseph Boy died,
I miss his chirps and his talk,
And, when I walk into the room,
It is filled with gloom.
Then my oven broke down,
Just as I was going to get dinner,
Mind you, without those oven chips
I am no thinner!
Ok, I say, what's next, there must
Be three in a row, and would you know,
My microwave started playing up,
I had, had enough!
But wait, there's more for me in store,
The man building my garden fence,
Just up and went, not finishing off,
So I phoned him, yes he'd be there
Tomorrow, but to my dismay
The stain ran off the gate in the rain.
My new glasses case broke in half,
Which gave my friend a laugh!
She said, "I've read of people like you,
Who have the meanest of luck,
But cheer up, Christmas is coming!"

Augustine Nash.

Hi everyone, please take a look at my new EBook which is now out on Amazon,
title; 'The Camera Never Lies,' by Augustine Nash.
This is a dark murder/mystery story with just a touch
of humour, those street cameras see everything!
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Where does it end?

Sometimes I wonder how far
Infinity goes,
Above the clouds and past
The rainbow.
Is there life out there,
In outer space,
Or is just imagination
By the human race.
Can that space go on
For ever and ever,
With dust storms and
all sorts of weather,
Doesn't everything have
An end,
Like roads and cities,
And my friends, countries.
I like to think it ends
Out there,
At the pearly gates,
Where God awaits.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; I missed the boat....

I don't look in the mirror any more,
I know what I have in store.
Those wrinkles underneath my eyes,
That greying hair,
Of 76 years of care.
Sometimes I wonder when I see,
Those beauties on Television screen,
Was I missing when the looks
Were dolled out?
They say that beauty is skin deep,
That may be true,
But now it seems beauty and body
Are everything!
Does it mean nothing that my
Heart is in the right place?
And I try not to let people down,
Or try to frown on them.
So, I don't use the mirror anymore,
have never been vain,
But, can I be beautiful next time
I come back to this earth again?

Augustine Nash.

Poem; It can't only happen to me!

Have you ever had one of those days,
Where nothing goes your way? And
You feel like leaving home, to roam.
Yesterday, I must say, was my
All, the day nearly drove me up
The wall!
I was feeling good, until I got
Out of bed, and hit my head,
I was seeing sun, moon, and stars!
But it did not end there, I'm sorry
To say, my toilet handle broke,
And I can't flush, so I go to use the
Other loo, and guess what, the
Seat broke, how I needed that
Plummer bloke. Three cold-call
Phones before dinner, no wonder
My patience is getting thinner.
I thought that was the end of
My bad luck for the day, but
When I opened the fridge door
The jam-pot fell out, broke all
over the floor. Little sharp pieces
Everywhere, how I despaired.
I stemmed that cut on my thumb
And made a cup of tea, then
Spilled it over me. Surely nothing
Else can go wrong, so I turn
The radio on. Ah! such sweet
Music to my ears, until I have
An electric cut, I've had enough!
Have you ever had one of those days,
Where you could scream, rant, and rave?
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Shamina.

I remember so well,
The women in the next bed,
She said, nothing.
We were in hospital together,
And the weather was wet.
Wet as the tears pouring
Down her face, that I
Tottered round and sat down,
Beside her. "What is your name?"
I asked, admiring her beauty,
Long dark hair, brown skin,
And eyes I kept wanting to
Look in.
"Shamina, and you would not
 Wish to be in my shoes."
Her voice was soft and gentle,
As she explained, "My husband
Beat me up, I'm in here again."
I struggled to find the right words,
Did she know there was safe houses,
Where she could go?
"I can't," she said, "He'd find me
And I would be dead."
She went on, "He is a control
Freak, you know, and I am not
Allowed to go anywhere," I
Could hear her despair. And I
Thought how lucky I am,
To have had such a good man.
I could not forget her cries
Of pain, and so, when I went home
Again, I wrote a book about her,
Title, 'Shamina, walk a mile in my shoes.'
Yet she could have walked away,
And I wonder to this day,
What happened to her?

Augustine Nash.

Poem; The frustration of life.

Sometimes I don't want to
Get out of bed, guilty thought's
Going round my head. I know
What my mother would have said,
"Did you ever thing it was going
To be easy?" No, but I never told
Her so.
Sometimes I despair, of ever getting
Where I want to be. I ask myself "Why,"
But that's all pie in the sky.
All those words I've written over
The years, all those tears  of
Rejection, like an infection that
Burns into my brain, the pain
Of trying to move on and gain
A following.
Sometimes I hate this contraption
On four wheels, I push around,
Dragging my spirits down.Once
I ran about, weeded the garden,
Doing chores, no more. These
Legs so stiff are slow, not
Going where I want to go.
Sometimes I want to get on
An aeroplane to see you all again,
Those Great-Grandchildren I
Have never seen, only on my E Mail
Screen.
Sometimes when I see it rain,
I think again, of you and I,
Walking through life, under
The trees, wet bushes touching
Our knees, and how you held
My hand, and, as rain dripped
Down our faces, you kissed me.
Sometimes...Sometimes.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; Changing of the seasons.

I know it's autumn outside,
I can see, red berries on the Rowen tree.
And in the mornings the mist
Comes down, all around.
There is a touch of chill in the air,
Out there, and the trees have turned
From green to yellow and red,
Such colour, to feast my eyes on.
Harvest festival has come and gone,
Full of fruit and song, the fields
Have given up their yields.
The dark nights draw in now
Showing me how, winter will
Soon be here, I fear.
Flowers curl up and die,
I sigh, for the loss of their beauty.
Winter woollies and long johns'
Are brought out, and I know,
Without a doubt, that autumn's here.
And back where I was born, in
early dawn, the hop-picking will
Have started, with early morning
Fog, the machines will go along
The rows, once picked by hand,
It was grand. And all things change,
As seasons' come and go,
I shed a tear, for you are no longer here.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; mother was full of them!

My mother had a saying for everything,
Like' How long is a piece of string?'
'A stitch in time saves nine,' she said,
Handing me needle and thread.
'No smoke without fire,'
When someone whispered in her ear,
She showed contempt on her face,
That was a disgrace, whatever next,
In the pudding club!
'Leave no stone unturned,'
Mother would advise, as she
Supervised our efforts in
Doing things right, to us her
sayings became a blight!
'Look before you leap,'
She sternly advised, wanting
Us to use our eyes.
'A rolling stone gathers no moss,'
Of course, we were at a loss
To understand that!
'Make hay while the sun shines,'
She quoted most, along with others.
'A penny gained is a penny saved'
I remember that advice to this day.
'Two heads are better than one,'
Was her motto, if you have a worry,
That will be rid of in a hurry.
'Birds of a feather, flock together,'
She would point out, when put-out.
And down the years her sayings'
Have in-grated in my brain,
Sometimes driving me insane!

Augustine Nash.

Poem; He was so beautiful, so majestic.

Under the river where
The lily -pads grew,
Lurked a pike, who was
King of the fish, he
Would not make a tasty dish!
He was large, and mottled
Yellow and green, and hid
Away, so as not to be seen.
He laid at the bottom in the
Cool of the day, waiting for
His prey. Gliding silently forth,
With teeth so sharp, the little
Fish could not escape,
So he ate  a fine dish.
And there he stayed for
Many a year, causing mayhem
And fear, I watched him
Gliding away, and loved the
Way he moved like a submarine
At war, is what I saw.
And then one day the boys
Fished him out, with great whoops
And shouts, and there he lay
On the bank struggling for breath
Dark eyes telling me, he
Must be free. The boys did as I bid,
And threw him back, and
He swam away, to live another day.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; Grace, a true friend.

Grace was a friend of mine
When I was fifteen,
She was warm and friendly;
Where no one had ever been.
On a Saturday night I would
Knock on her door, to go
Up town, she never let me
Down. We would sit in
'Nell's' Café drinking tea,
Listening to Jonny Ray records
Blasting out, you could not
hear yourself shout!
I had no money, but Grace
Would say," Do you want
A bag of chips, before we
Get on our way?" Much to
My dismay, she always paid.
"Let's go to the flicks, there's
A good film on," she would say,
"I'll pay."
I  had a friend called Grace,
Who was plump, and had to
Bear all the horrible comments
Coming her way, I remember
Her tears to this day.
She never had a boyfriend,
And often asked, "What's wrong
With me?" her face downcast.
And then one day while on
The bus she met this man,
The stuff of her dreams. It
Was love at first sight that night,
Only having eyes for each other,
Then came the engagement,
And marriage, perfect in every
way, but to this day I wonder
About my one time friend,
Who in the end found happiness.
I have never been able to find
Her, to say, "Thanks, you were grand,"
And shake her by the hand.

Poem; A place in the sun.

Singapore, an island in the sun,
You and I went there when we
Were young. You took your life
In your hands in a taxi, along
the Bukitima Road, and no one
Ever knew if they would arrive home!
The people were friendly, living in
Their capons, content without
Having much, but smiles on their faces,
And had such graces.
We took trips across the causeway,
Into another land, stilted houses
Along the waterfront, nothing grand.
And blue sky everywhere, along
The jungle roads exploring, it was
Never boring.
And every day came the 'gilly- gilly'
Man, puffing up the hill, I can see
Him still, sweating yet smiling,
But never did he moan, telling
Me all about, family and home.
"Missy, plenty children, ten,
I work to feed them. Old Mother,
And Father too, sometimes I don't
Know what to do, it's such
A heavy load."
Singapore city had its own charm,
No skyscrapers back then, but
Venders selling food from their stalls,
They had it all.
When the monsoons came, with
Heavy rain, it was steaming hot,
And you could not see through it.
We spent two and a half years
There, in the hot sun, not always fun,
But, it opened our eyes to the other
Half, so far away, that I remember
It well, to this very day.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; What it feels like.

Rejected is a word I know so well,
From publishers' who don't know
The hell, of receiving their letter,
Couldn't they say something better?
All through the long years, I
Have cried many tears, then,
Picked myself up off the floor,
To face more of the same.
Every book I write takes
Long hours to write, and
Each time I say " this is the
One", so it is no fun, being
Rejected. I have been so near,
And yet so far, my guiding
Star deserting me.
My mother always said,
"You have a vivid imagination,"
Maybe she could see, writing
Books was for me. History,
Love, and so much more,
Millions of words, pour from
My brain, in an effort,
To achieve that best-seller.
I don't want money, I have
Enough, or fame, Or any
Other stuff, I just want
You, and You, and You,
To read my books, so that I can
Succeed with my ambition,
Before it is too late,
And I leave for heaven's gate.

Augustine Nash.

Poem 'You and I'.

You and I,
Underneath a blue sky,
Walked through the leafy wood,
And there we stood,
Holding hands, as the leaves
Brushed our face, so long ago.
You and I,
Sat on a bus, and with no fuss
You asked me to marry you,
So long ago, I still get a glow,
Knowing you were the right one.
Long ago, you and I
Went for rides on your motor-bike,
I hugged you from behind,
Feeling lucky you were mine.
You and I.
Went through the years,
Together, through all weathers',
Happy or sad, we had each other,
I never wanted it to change.
You and I,
Grew old together, and you said,
When I got cancer, "It will be alright,
You wait and see," he was
Always there for me.
You and I,
Are parted and I am left
Broken hearted. Our love survived
For all those years, as most do not,
And every day you said, "I love you,"
Which I read in your blue eyes,
And now you're gone,
There is no one to lean on,
But one day I know
You and I will meet again,
Somewhere above the clouds,
Then you and I
Will walk to Heaven's door,
And be together,
For evermore.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; The worst ever.

I remember the winter of 1947,
It wasn't heaven!
Joyce and I watched the snowflakes
Fall in November, and together
We built a snowman, slid across
The frozen pond, which we were
Fond. But then it went on, day after
Day, icy cold winds, too cold to play.
Trying to walk to school was only
For fools, Mum would not allow
A day off, said it would do us good,
Make us of sterner stuff.
I remember the snow coming over
My boots, and my bare legs red
With cold, I was ten years old.
I fell into a snow drift and sat
There and cried, and when I got
To school I tried to hide
My wet clothes, and my worn out
Mac I hung on the wrack.
"Stupid child!" Miss Groves said,
"No one else has arrived, However,
I am not surprised."
I remember one morning in the New
Year, Joyce and I looked out, and
Without a doubt the snow had blocked
Our door and window out.
Dad was mad, "Give me the shovel, Kath,
I have to get to work, I can't afford
To shirk." Well, believe it or not,
He tunnelled his way out, and struggled
Off up the hill, a figure almost lost
From sight, his determination was to fight.
And the snow kept falling, we ran out
Of fuel, Jeff and John made an igloo
And played the fool.
I remember the day it went away,
It was May. The struggle over that winter
Was over, as Mum said, "It was not
A bed of clover!"

Poem; The biggest ever!

If you were still here, Joyce,
You would remember that
Large horse-mushroom we
Found, on the ground.
"Mum will really love
This fried" you said,
And I read the pleased
Look in your eyes.
We messed about in the
river, then back we went
To the common, eager and
Ready to claim our prize,
So huge that we stared at
It, still surprised, that
No one else had found it.
I remember  how you
Carefully pulled it up, then
folded it lovingly in your dress,
And I confess I was
Worried it would break!
Farmer Morgan's dog
Bounded out, but with an
Extra large shout he ran
Away, I remember now
It was a Sunday.
You were expecting Mum
To clap her hands in glee,
Put the pan over the fire
For tea. But all she said was,
"I see you have made a mess
Of your dress!"
Augustine Nash.

My new book out now, 'Wilfred Owen:Pro Patria Mori.'

Hi everyone,
My new book is now out and can be viewed @
Amazon.co.jp: Title, 'Wilfred Owen: Pro Patria Mori.' e Book. Augustine Nash.
This is the life story of  Poet Wilfred Owen, who comes back to tell us what it
was really like in World War One, sprinkled throughout with his famous poems.
The pity being he was killed two days before war ended, and never knew that
one day his poems would be renowned world-wide.
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Make Believe.

She was blonde, petite,
With big blue eyes,
That looked across at me,
And said, "Do you believe
In fairies?"
"Yes, years ago when I
Was a little girl, my sister
Joyce told me stories
About them in bed at night,
To my delight."
She sighs, "I have looked
Everywhere for them you
See in the flowers, and the trees,
But I can't find any."
"That's because they are so
Tiny," I say, "And never come
Out in the day. By night they
Come to the fairy dells'
And dance by the light of the
Moon, and very soon the Fairy
Queen glides down in her
Golden coach, pulled by six
White horses, with harnesses.
Of gold. And she sprinkles
Her magic wand in the air
There is music and light,
But not every night."
"But how do you know they
Are really there?"
 I answer,
Because my sister said,
And I believe it to be true,
Don't you?"

Poem; Memories.

Over the hill and far away
Is a place I knew well,
With a pool inside a dell.
The water flowed round
An island, where silence
Reigned. In springtime
It was covered in blue,
Where bluebells in their
Hundreds grew.
Joyce and I would follow
The path, down to this
Special spot, sun shining
Down hot, and there we
Would tread on the old
Board, to pick a hoard
Of bluebells. Joyce always
Said we were on treasure
Island, and we had come
To steal the gold,  we
Pretended we had swords
And were bold pirates!
We picked bunches of
Flowers, and spent hours
Before we went home.
Sad to say, the bluebells
Wilted on the way, and mum
Would say, "Throw those
Bluebells away, they are dead."
Over the hills and far away,
Was once a place we used to play,
And in my memory it has stayed,
Never ever far away.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; A wonderful interlude.

He came one Autumn morning
Through the mist, cautiously walking,
Such a beautiful sight, it set my heart
Alight. His magnificent coat shone
In the light, vivid blue head, green neck
With white collar, a glow of orange
A Pheasant, no other.
Daintily he approached, with his head
On one side, two beady dark eyes,
Examining my face, to see if he was
In the right place. At first, when I
Threw him some peanuts, he just stood
And stared, with an arrogance which
Seemed to say, " Its only on my terms
I'll stay. I have escaped the shoot
Over the fields, and will not yield."
After that, every day, he came our way,
Gradually coming right up to the door,
Taking the peanuts right out of my hand,
And, when we did not come, he
Always tapped on the glass,
Making a deep throated cry, as if to say,
"You're late today!"
He stayed in our garden up in the tree,
And when called would come running
So fast, that I was aghast.
In Spring he went away, and we thought
He had gone for good, but one day,
There he stood with two wives,
Proud as punch, they had come for lunch!
For three years running, he always came
Back, demanding and clucking his
Way into our hearts, fat and sleek
And yet gentle of beak. And then
One day he went away, and never
Came back, alas and alack, leaving
Us to wonder, had he become
Someone's dinner?

Poem; Victor.

This was a home from the start,
Now it's a house, with no heart.
I imagine you siting in that empty
Chair, over there, those blue eyes
Always bore a questioning glance,
And my heart never stood a chance.
You were my life, rolled up in one,
At times you were such fun,
If ever we disagreed, you would
See the funny side, and joke,
We always went for broke!
Your place is empty in the bed,
Not in my heart, you were loved
right from the start. Each night
I remember you always kissed
me goodnight, and hugged me close,
Now you are a much loved ghost.
You were a tease with a twinkling eye,
Had a quirky sense of humour,
Which I, did not always get.
Each day you took Flossie for a walk
At exactly the same time, shouting out,
"Get the tea on, I don't pay you for nowt!"
After you had gone, I listened
For your voice, but silence reigned,
It caused me so much pain.
However, looking back I realise
How lucky I was to have you,
A husband, a father, and a great man too.

Poem; 'Dougal, my best pal.'

Dougal was my deputy, I used to say,
He was never far away. With those soft
Brown eyes and long fur coat,
Gentle as a mouse, in my house.
Water and him did not agree,
And when we bathed him you
Should have seen the fuss, for him
 It was all too much! He ran round
The garden like an athlete in training,
Even though it was raining.
I loved the bones of that dog,
So gentle in his manner, when the
Grandchildren rolled on the floor
With him, he wanted more.
He was a clever dog in his own quiet
Way, opening the door for Mutley,
Our Labrador, then walking away,
As if to say, " I am not only a pretty
Face, you may be a retriever, old chap,
But by my standards you're off the map!"
Dougal hated being brushed, howling
And creating such a fuss, but he never
Retaliated, no not he, it was beneath
His dignity. He stood back when Mutley
Stole his food, looking at me with
Those expressive eyes in a resigned way,
Knowing I would feed him later that day.
Dougal went to Heaven where all
Good doggies go, and I know
He will be sitting on Gods right hand.

Augustine Nash.

Poem for Sarah!

The woman sitting on the bus
In front of me was not very happy,
And as I listened I could sympathise,
When she said, "Morning Mrs Jones,
How are you? Me, I'm feeling blue.
Mother warned me that teenagers
Could be mardy, but I hardly expected
It to be quite so bad, that oldest girl
Of mine, she takes the cake,
Always staying out late at night, says
She knows her rights, and I should
not interfere, well she's been like
It now for over a year."
"I wouldn't know," Mrs Jones said,
"I only have a cat that rattles my cage,
Mind you when he claws my chairs
I often rage! Me and kids don't mix,
But I feel for you in such a fix."
"Sometimes I find her clothes
Strewn over the floor, and there's
Even more. Instead of helping
Me to wash the dishes, all she wishes
Is to go online, and waste her time."
"I wish I could help," Mrs Jones sighed,
But I once tried with my sister's brood,
Who were so rude that I never did again,
Oh! Look, it's decided to rain,
And guess what, I've left my washing
Outside, which will probably take
Days to dry indoors, mind I
Have different problems to yours."
"I don't suppose you would do
Me a favour, we could swap my Joan
For your cat, I quite fancy that!"
"No dear, you see my cat is not friendly,
Claws my chairs if his dinner's not ready."
"I would pay you some money
To take her away, your cat would be
Fine with me, how about trying
It to see?"
"We are here, my dear, all I can advise,
Is try and advert your eyes,
Bung up your ears, to avert that trouble,
It will break her bubble!
I have to get off here, chin up, my dear!

Augustine Nash.

Augustine Nash Books: Poem; Outside my Window.

Augustine Nash Books: Poem; Outside my Window.: Outside this room is a wall of green, Where white butterflies can be seen, Happily flitting from flower to flower Effortlessly hovering w...

Poem; Outside my Window.

Outside this room is a wall of green,
Where white butterflies can be seen,
Happily flitting from flower to flower
Effortlessly hovering with the power
Of their wings.
Outside this room I see the bush
You planted for me, before you went away.
Today, it is blooming big blue flowers,
Which I could look at for hours.
You grew it in the green house,
But never saw it grow, maybe you are
Looking down and know?
Outside this room up against the fence,
Rests the tree you called your own,
Fully grown, with orange berries
Turning to red for the birds
To eat in winter, what a treat.
Outside this room is another world
Where each day some plant
Bursts into life with colours galore,
Who could want more?
There are pink flocks and white
Daises too, roses in every hue,
And lilies, my favourite flower,
Reminding me of the bunches you
Bought for me most weeks,
Oh! the memory of that speaks,
More than a thousand words,
Now you are no longer here.

Augustine Nash.

Hi everyone, if you are looking for a good read go to Amazon and download my new eBooks; 'Nailed' Augustine Nash, or 'Aside the Margaret River' Augustine Nash. The first is a murder story which will keep you guessing right to the end. The second book is a story of three generations of settlers in Australia, read all about their hardships, love and murder and how it all ended, set in Western Australia. 

Poem; Confushion!

Are you like me, confused
With what foods to eat?
One minute they say, don't eat fat,
Then you haven't had enough of that!
Chocolate was taboo, now
Apparently it's good for you.
Eat chicken not red meat,
Don't burn barbecue, for
A start, it's no good for the heart.
Now, you would think that any
Fish would do, no, salmon tuna
With plenty of oil,
It all makes my blood boil.
Measure your glass of wine,
One is fine, for women of course,
The experts say, with some force.
I always thought bananas were fine,
But somewhere along the line
That's changed, if you want to stay thin,
All the powers that be say,
"Five a day, if you want your heart
To keep going" so there is no knowing
What to do for the best. Me?
I don't follow the rest, I eat what I like
In spite of it all, and at 76 that's all
I intend to do. Now it's over to you,
Eat or fast, to stay thinner
Cut out your dinner! Mind you,
Now fried breakfast is just fine,
However, somewhere along the line
It's best for you, anyway, at this time!

Augustine Nash Books: Part 5, children's story, 'Sam and Henry.'

Augustine Nash Books: Part 5, children's story, 'Sam and Henry.': It was a warm summer afternoon and Henry was stretched out on the setee, as usual keeping an eye on the mouse hole. He got the shock of his ...

Part 5, children's story, 'Sam and Henry.'

It was a warm summer afternoon and Henry was stretched out on the setee, as usual keeping an eye on the mouse hole. He got the shock of his life when his Mistress came in carrying another cat!
"Henry, you listen up good," she said. "Arthur has no home so he has come to live with us. Be sure and be nice to him, otherwise you know what will happen," she warned.
To be sure this was a funny looking cat with blue eyes, but Henry had to make the best of it. "You can help me catch those mice living down that hole," he offered. Though being nice was not his kind of thing.
"Catch mice? You must be joking mate! Why would I want to do that when the Mistress will give me nice things to eat?"
Henry scratched one ear, "All cats catch mice," he pointed out.
"Not me, dude. After living in that alley for so long having to scavenge in the bins this is the lap of luxury."
Sam was going to a birthday party at Jim's house and had changed into his best clothes. "Granddad can you distract Henry so I can leave?" he asked.
When they poked their noses out of the hole they got quite a shock, there was two cats! "I'll do my best," Granddad promised, "But I can't see how I am going to outwit them both."
Henry could always tell when the mice were about because his whiskers would start to twitch. "There they are, Arthur. I am after that young tender one, you can have the old one," he whispered.
Arthur opened one blue eye and saw the frightened mice looking up at him. "I would not have thought that you could eat another mouthful Henry, considering the size of your stomach, have you ever thought of going on a diet?" Then he strolled over to the hole saying, "There is no need to be frightened of me, I prefer to eat fish and cream, and am partial to a bit of chicken," he kindly told them.
Sam scampered off to his friend's house and was very surprised to see how many mice were there, but Jim was rather spoiled by his parents. He was boastful at times, saying, "Come and see all my presents, they nearly fill the room."
Sam did not care as he had his best mate Granddad, who was always willing to spend time with him. The afternoon was pleasantly spent playing games and then afterwards watching the magician. All too soon it was time to go home. Outside it was dark which made Sam nervous, but luckily the moon came out and he hurried towards home.
There was a long line of dustbins in the alley. Sam hurried past one, then two, three, four and five. He was just passing the sixth one when too late he saw a dark shadow leaping out at him.
"Got you!" Henry shouted out in triumph, holding Sam firmly in his paw. "There is no one to rescue you out here, is there? I am really going to enjoy eating you very slowly so that I can relish the taste."
Sam put up a spirited fight by trying to bite Henry's paw, but his teeth were too small. "Just think what the Mistress will do when she finds out you have eaten me," he bravely pointed out.
"It will be worth a stint in that kennel, "Henry answered, not really caring. Boasting, "Then I will catch your family, one by one."
"My Granddad can outwit you any day, "Sam said, trying to think of a plan to escape.
"Say your prayers mouse, nothing can save you now," Henry said, holding Sam up by his tail.
As in all good stories help was at hand. The Magician was walking back home and saw what was happening. "Let go of that mouse," he cried, "Otherwise I will turn you into a frog."
Now Henry knew the Magician could perform great feats of magic, besides he did not fancy ending up as a frog. To start with he hated water, trying never to get even his feet wet. Who wanted to live in a pond anyway?
Reluctantly he dropped poor Sam on his head, snarling, "You win this time!"
When Sam got home he told his Granddad all about it. All he said was, "Well, that's one of your nine lives gone, next time be more careful."
And Henry? Just as you would expect he went to settle down in his usual place only to find that Arthur had beaten him to it. "That is where I sleep, clear off!" he shouted angrily.
Arthur lazily opened one blue eye. "I think you should know that I am a champion boxer." With that he fell asleep.

Augustine Nash.

Poem; 'Our kind of Town.'

Leominster was our nearest town,
With small shops you and I looked round,
Pressing our noses to the windows to see,
What there could possibly be.
We had no money and could only stare,
At all the things tempting us there.
There was a cinema in the town,
Which mum took us too for a rare treat,
In the six-penny seats.
And I remember oh! so well,
Uncle Remus, and how he sang,
"Zippedy-Do-Dah" such a friendly man.
Once we watched Robin Hood, and stood,
For a very long time waiting to get inside.
Joyce and I's favourite place was Woolworth,
You could buy broken biscuits, clips and slides,
And all manner of things, even string!
Most of the time we walked to town,
Sometimes it seemed so far that it got me down.
On the way, we would stop and paddle,
If it was a nice day.
Occasionally mum would lend us her bike,
Joyce peddling and me on the seat,
That was a real treat.
And at Christmas time we just went to look
At all the bright lights, and stayed until night,
A three penny bag of chips was our delight,
before we went happily home in the twilight.

Augustine Nash.

Poem. A house, A Home.

Our old house stood in a dip,
With a pond in front of it,
With a fence across the middle
And a Sally tree, hollow inside,
That's where the ducks eggs would hide.
In winter time the water froze over,
And we would stand at the edge
Tentively holding hands,
In case the ice cracked,
The worst that happened
We would fall on our backs.
In summer, out came the old tin bath,
Joyce and I used it as a raft,
Round and round we'd go
Even though, it was liable to sink!
At the back of our house
Up the hill, mushrooms grew
And with a will, we went picking them.
The lanes running by the house
Were ours to roam, free as the birds
Where no one heard our noise,
It was peace beyond compare,
Living there. No shops, no phone,
Yet it is the place I still
Think of as 'home.'

Poem 'You and I, Joyce.'

Now I am old, memories flow,
Like rain, again and again.
Of those far off days when we were young,
And went BlackBerrying for mum.
Over the hills we would go,
Until our basket's flowed.
It was another life when we could roam,
Unhindered, until we went home.
Back in those days,
Good deeds were done,
Not always fun.
Mum always said, "Make yourself useful,"
You would remember Mrs Bengry, Joyce,
How she would say, "I'll give you sixpence
For your pay, if you weed all day."
Over in the field if the goose was loose
We had one eye on him. And yet every
time he caught us out, Joyce, you would shout,
"Watch out!" Too late, he battered me with his wings,
Then cackled like only a goose can,
His way of saying, "I can, I can!"
We got used to the fact that there was no pay
Forthcoming, just a promise to give it
Another day. This was made up for by a jam tart,
After our own hearts.
And then there was the acorns that had
To be gathered from under the trees,
On our knees. We would feed them to
The pigs, who grunted their thanks,
and wanted their backs scratched.
So life was spent in a slow gainful way,
Back in those days.

Children's story number four, Sam and Henry.

Sam was sorry that the school holiday was over, but he was getting rather bored so did not really mind.
"Have you got your cheese sandwiches and pencils?" his mother asked.
"I have lost my pencils," Sam had to admit.
His mother sighed, "You would lose your head if it wasn't screwed on!" she scolded.
As usual Henry the cat was waiting outside the hole, on the off-chance he might catch a mouse dinner.
"Granddad, can you help me by distracting him?" Sam asked.
So while Sam escaped, Granddad ran rings round the cat until he made Henry feel quite dizzy!
Down the ally Sam ran until he came to an old shed, which was where the mouse school was held. Inside he was greeted by all his friends who were already sitting at their desks.
"Late again Sam," Miss Emma Mouse said, looking cross. "No, don't bother to give me the same old excuses. If you want to outwit that cat you will have to run faster."
"He will have to train like they do for the Mouse Olympics," Someone suggested, which made the class laugh.
At plat time Harry Mouse told the others how he had visited the big city to shop with his mother. He painted such a wonderful picture that Sam asked, "Could you please take me on Saturday?"
"I suppose," Harry answered.
Saturday arrived and Henry was having a kip on the settee dreaming of a large plate of fish, so it was easy for Sam to escape. Across the fields the two mice scampered until they came to Mouse City. Sam had never been there before so it really surprised him, though he did not like how crowded it was. They gazed into a shop window where all the different cheeses were on display, which made them feel quite hungry.
Afterwards they wandered into the big shopping area, and guess who was there? Henry of course, who was pretending to be on his best behaviour, because the Mouse Policemen looked scary with their truncheons.
"Oh! No, it's that cat," Harry cried, shaking in his boots.
"Just our luck, he must have followed us," Sam replied, looking round for a way of escape.
As soon as he spotted the two friends Henry's eyes lit up. He ran towards them at full speed, thinking, 'this is going to be a piece of cake; or mouse, whichever way he looked at it.
"Up the escalator!" Harry shouted. The two mice leapt onto the bottom stair just as Henry pounced, leaving him to wonder, would anything ever go right for him?
"This is fun," Sam said, as they moved slowly upwards.
"It won't  be if that cat catches us up," Harry answered fearfully.
When Sam looked round there was Henry right behind them. "Eek! Eek!" he squeaked, "I don't want to be his treat."
"Follow me!" Harry shouted, at the top jumping off the escalator, and then jumping up on to the moving rail going back down. "Come on Sam, jump!" he shouted back. And of course Sam did, not fancying being eaten up by Henry.
They moved downwards clinging to the rail with their tails, Harry happy that they had beaten that cat. But of course Henry was right on their tails, however, being larger than them he was finding it difficult to balance, but still he was no quitter. Swaying about he stretched out his claws and went to grab Harry. "Help!" Harry squeaked, thinking the worst.
As a matter of fact it was Henry who needed the help. He suddenly lost his balance and went flying through the air. There he lay on the shopping centre floor feeling as if all his bones were broken, of course they weren't. The last thing the two mice saw of him was being put in a cat ambulance and driven away.
Sam and Harry joined paws and danced in glee, and everyone joined in. On the way home Sam said, "That was a fun day out, wasn't it?" On considering everything Harry had to agree.
"Well, what have you been up to today?" Granddad demanded.
"Nothing much," Sam answered, because he should not have been in the big city in the first place without permission.

Augustine Nash.

Remembering my dear sister Joyce.

In years gone by,
You and I,
Went up the lane to play.
Up the bank we would climb,
Through nettles and thorns,
Leaving our skin torn.
You always went first Joyce,
To haul me up onto the branch,
Where I was entranced,
By the thick green leaves
Of our nut tree.
I think of those days,
When we escaped the rage,
To enter a different world.
We were pirates on the high seas'
With grubby knees,
Shouting "Slice the main brace,"
Or "leave him to his fate."
I always talked of going to China,
Which fascinated me,
Just to see, what it was like.
I still remember Joyce,
How your eyes would light up,
When you said, "I am going
To marry a rich man, if I can."
As the afternoon drifted by,
We would sigh,
That we had to go home.
But, you always said,
"We have still got time
To play ghosts, you know,
As long as you don't go
Getting scared."
Our nut tree was a refuge
and a friend, but in the end,
It got cut down.

Third part of children's story, Henry and Sam.

Henry was still banned from going indoors and was getting angrier by the minute. How shameful that a high class cat like himself was down to scavenging in the bins, when he was used to having the best of everything. It felt like someone dropping him from a great height! Meanwhile Sam had the run of the house for a change, but it had become boring. You must all know that familiar word, even mice use it.
One evening he squeezed his skateboard underneath the crack in the front door, nervously looking towards the kennel. It was empty. Now that posed a problem. Sam wondered if Henry was getting ready to pounce out on him. So taking his courage in both hands he shot down the drive on his skateboard and out of the open gate into the back alley to meet his friends. There was still no sign of that cat!
Casper, Freddie, Nick and Ned said all-together, "Hi dude, can we have a ride on your skateboard please?"
"I don't know if there is room for all of us," Sam answered dubiously.
"Oh! Go on," Ned pleaded. "I'll bring you one of my mother's buns covered in pink icing," he offered.
Sam was not to be bribed, after all his mistress left him all sorts of tit-bits on the table every night. "Not interested," he said.
Casper said, "How about some yellow sherbet, that is yummy!"
"Don't like it, "Sam said, "It's all sticky and horrible."
Nick was wracking his brains, until he hit on an idea. "I will let you sit by me at school," he suggested.
Sam laughed, "Sit by you? Not likely, especially when you make rude smells."
Freddie was the brains of the gang. "You must have heard of the famous footballer, Beckham mouse, well my dad got his autograph for me, will that do?"
"Wow! Wee! A Beckham mouse autograph," Sam cried. "Man, he is the greatest! You have a deal."
Sadly in was not to be, for guess who was sitting high above them on a chimney pot? Yes, you guessed right, our resident cat. Freddie heard a sound and saw Henry in the gutter getting ready to leap down on them. He thought his luck was in, five mice for supper!
"Get up on my skateboard," Sam shouted to the others. At first they were in such a hurry that they collided in a heap. Henry sprang! There was a wicked gleam in his eyes and he had sharpened his claws for just such an occasion.
The mice crowded on to the skateboard holding on to each other, Sam gave a mighty push and they began to roll down the alley, with Henry one paw step behind. "Where are we going?" Casper shouted nervously. Sam had no time to answer as he was trying to control the skateboard.
Out of the alley they rushed and on down the hill towards the village duck pond, with Henry every now and then stretching out a paw to dislodge them. He thought, 'Never mind, they will tire before I do being at the peak of my fitness.'
Sam lost control of the skateboard and it swerved off the road over the grass towards the pond. "I can't swim!" Casper squeaked in fright. "Neither can we!" the others joined in. The next moment they went flying through the air straight into the pond. The ducks loudly quacked then flew off at this shameful intrusion. However, luck was on the side of the five mice because they landed on a lily leaf.
On the bank Henry was patrolling back and forth, the truth was he did not like water, especially if it was dirty.
"Now what are we going to do?" Sam said, hoping someone would suggest something. No one answered. "If only we had an oar we could move this leaf towards the bank," he went on.
Henry spotted the branch of a tree was hanging out over the water just above the mice, he could scoop them up one by one. So he started climbing the tree, "I smell supper," he said to himself, licking his lips.
Sam suddenly realised what Henry was up to, how were they going to escape?
Down at the bottom of the pool lived a large pike, on hearing the noise he rose to the surface. "Don't you know mice aren't allowed in here?" he said. Then he noticed the cat perched above the mice and realised what was happening. He was the King of his domain and used to handling tricky situations. "Hang on," he ordered, and started pushing the leaf towards the bank. Henry went to lunge forwards, lost his balance and fell into the water. "Help! Help! Someone save me," Henry howled.
But no one was listening. Having delivered the mice safely to the bank the Pike sank back to the bottom of the pool, burying himself in the mud. He had done his good deed for the day.
Surprisingly the skateboard worked perfectly and away the five mice went to get changed out of their wet clothes.
And Henry? Well, he is a survivor. Fur dripping with smelly pond water he crawled back inside his dog kennel, and guess what? He had caught another cold! So, what does he do next, because cats can't help catching mice, so he was not going to give up that easy.

Augustine Nash.

Second part of Sam and Henry children's short stories.

Granddad mouse had been hammering all day in his workshop, while Sam sat patiently waiting outside. There was also someone else waiting, that pesky cat Henry! Mind you, he was careful not to make it too obvious knowing that his Mistress would not tolerate him eating her pet mouse, if he got caught.
The workshop door opened and Grandfather mouse called, "Come and see what I have made for you Sam."
On the floor stood a piece of wood on wheels. "What's that Granddad?"
"Why bless my soul, what do they teach you at school these days? It's a skateboard, of course."
"Oh, I see. But how does it work?" Sam asked, not seeing what use it would be to outwit that cat.
"Stand well back and I will show you."
Sam watched as his Grandfather slid one foot underneath a small loop, propelling himself forward with the other. Round and round he went gathering speed which made Sam feel quite dizzy. Then to his amazement he saw his Grandfather leap high into the air and land on his bench, skidding along the surface at break-neck speed. He gave another giant leap onto the chair, sliding down the leg until he came to a stop.
"Groovy!" Sam cried, trying out the new word he had learned at school.
"Now it's your turn Sam, it is all a matter of balance." If only that had been the case it would have been easy. Poor Sam fell off the skateboard so many times he felt bruised all over. "I'll try again tomorrow," he said.
"No you won't, my motto is, never give up," Grandfather mouse insisted.
All this time Henry the cat had been impatiently waiting, licking his lips until they were sore and getting more frustrated by the second.
At last Sam got the hang of how the skateboard worked and was about to put it away when his Grandfather said, "Not so fast young fellow. Now we have to try it out on that cat." They peered out of the hole and saw the cat was still on duty. He was washing his paws and sharpening up his claws in anticipation!
Sam stood on the skateboard and his Grandfather gave him one mighty push. Out of the hole Sam sped, careering round the room while adjusting his balance. Now it was time to have some fun! Henry sat in the middle of the carpet totally bemused, while Sam moved round him in circles getting closer and closer until he drove right over Henry's tail. What a commotion, what a fuss. Henry screeched as if he had been scalded, then he ran underneath the shelter of the settee and began to cry. Can you imagine it? All that water running over the carpet made it shrink, smaller and smaller until it became mouse size.
"Ta very much, just what I needed for my bedroom ," Sam said, and picking up the carpet he zoomed back through the hole, leaving a very dejected Henry.
Just then the Mistress of the house arrived. "Where is my best carpet?" she cried. "Have you eaten it, own up this minute."
Henry could not utter a word in his defence. Life was just not fair. Cats should be protected against mice that were out of control.
"I have had enough of your bad behaviour, Henry. Pack your case and move out into the empty dog kennel in the garden until you can learn to behave," his Mistress scolded.
There Henry sits in his new home without even a blanket for comfort. Now don't go getting sorry for him because he never learns by his mistakes. Already he is planning...what?

Augustine Nash.

Cildern's Story; Henry and Sam.

Henry the cat sat underneath the table watching the hole in the skirting board. He licked his lips at the thought of a nice tasty mouse dinner!
However, Sam the mouse was not that silly. He sat looking out of the hole wondering how he was going to escape. Then he had an idea. From his bed he pulled out a long stalk of corn. Then he dangled one of his red tee-shirts on the end of it.
Carefully he moved the stalk towards the cat hoping that it would distract him. You bet it did! Henry was a bit short sighted so he thought that Sam was running underneath the chair. He bounded forwards and in his hurry lost his balance and went sliding into the wall where he lay seeing stars.
"Ha! Ha! You can't catch me," Sam taunted. Underneath the door he went into the kitchen to see if the mistress of the house had left him some cheese. Yes, there it was as usual broken up into tiny pieces. You see, Sam was not very old and did not have all his teeth. There he sat munching happily, that was until he saw Henry the cat gazing up at him, showing his fearsome white teeth. How was he going to get down from the table?
Being a clever little mouse he sometimes had some good ideas. A jug of milk had been left standing on the table. The thing was, could he move it? He had to do something quickly because Henry was getting ready to jump up and catch him. With all his strength; which wasn't much as you remember he is not full grown, inch by inch he moved the jug towards the edge of the table. It seemed to take forever. Hurry up! Hurry up! He kept telling himself. How will I ever get out of that cat's belly if he swallows me?
At last he was ready. Just as Henry was about to spring upwards he emptied the milk all over the floor. Henry had this thing about his stomach, it always wanted filling. He saw the milk which diverted his attention, which did not take much thought as he had very few of those in his head. His luck was in, the spilled milk was topped with cream, so he licked away to his hearts content.
Meanwhile, Sam the mouse slid down the table leg, crept up behind Henry and bit his tail! Henry jumped so high that he hit his head on the ceiling and fell down into the pool of milk.
Just then his mistress came into the kitchen. "Up to your old tricks again Henry, now I have no milk for my tea in the morning. Obviously you need teaching a lesson."
Poor Henry found himself out in the garden in the pouring rain, and he did not even have an anorak! He felt very angry because none of it had been his fault. At least that was how he looked at it.
Meanwhile Sam had gone home to tell his grandfather all about it. Grandfather said, "In my day we were much fitter and faster on our feet that this modern generation."
"But Granddad,  you forget my legs are still small," Sam protested.
"In that case I will have to make you something in my workshop which will do the trick. Now off to bed and get some sleep otherwise you will never grow big and strong."
Eventually Henry was let back into the house, dripping wet all over the place. The next day he began to sneeze and felt so ill he could not bother himself about that mouse, he was bound to catch him next time.
Meantime, Grandfather is busy in his workshop, I wonder what he can be making?

Written by Augustine Nash.

poem; A bird with a character.

Joseph Boy took the place of Flossie,
A Budgie with a yellow and green coat,
Not much company, he couldn't sing a note.
Each day when I got up I would say,
"Come on Joseph, are you ever
Going to talk? Say hello, or good-day,
A little bit of dangerous living,
Needs to come your way!"
Joseph Boy is a bird, who suddenly
Had to be heard. Chattering away
Until I say, "Ok, that's enough,"
but he keeps on tweeting,
As if saying "tough!
Here I am on my perch entertaining you,
and all you can do, is to say, "pipe down!"
No wonder I'm browned off."
Joseph Boy knows a thing or two,
Can see right through me.
And for two weeks he sat on his perch,
Not a word, not a tweet, he had gone
On strike, which made me wake
Up worrying in the night.
"OK, I say, let's call a truce,
I know when I'm beaten, have taken
The hint, you can tweet all the time,
If you say little rhymes!"
Well, he mulled it over for a day or two,
Then came through, with a barrage of talk,
In between a battering of the mirror,
A ringing of the bell, as if to tell
me how he felt.
Joseph is a budgie, we get on really fine,
He has learned to say, "Good-day, Hallo
Steve, I am a good boy, and goodnight,
When I switch off the light.
He is my delight!
Augustine Nash.

Poem; Step into my shoes.

It is easy to say to someone else,
"Pull yourself together," or,
"You have to move on,"
It's the same old song.
It is easy to judge one another,
"I would not have done that
In my day," you say.
But that was another world,
Not mine, everything changes in time.
It's easy to say, "Things aren't better,"
And maybe your right,
But there are those out there,
Who stop and stare, responsible
In their own way for making
Someone's day.
It is easy to reject out of hand,
The protests of others who say,
"I made a mistake."
We can all say, '"I'm better than you,"
But have you really thought
Things through? The comfort
Of  a loving hand when one is crying,
Should make you stop and think,
The other poor soul may be on the brink.
Remember the loss of a loved one,
Or a break-up, can fill the cup of sorrow,
Cause hardship or despair,
So remember lend a hand,
Say," I am here."
Augustine Nash.

poem; Jenny and Sarah and Liam.

I am thinking about you today,
As always, since you went away.
I am wishing I could capture,
Those far off times, what rapture!
I am thinking, which memory
To erect, from all the others,
And of course Liam, your brother.
"I want to come to your house
To stay, it's all boring here,"
Jenny would say.
And you all brought such joy
To Granddad's and I heart,
Right from the start.
I am thinking about you today,
How, when I was at work
Next door, you would dust
And hoover the floor.
We would walk down to the weir,
Where you paddled with such
Delight, in those far off days.
I am recalling today,
When I met you three in town
And we went to the café to
Have a quick snack, Liam said,
"I like a cream cake just like my dad,"
Which he always had.
Sarah wanted a baked potato
With cheese and would ask,"Plenty
Of that, please."
Jenny always chose a sausage roll,
And told the assistant, "A big one please."
And Oh! those times when we went in
The shops, to buy shoes,
And after looking in vain, you
Chose the same!
Do you remember the saga,
Of the cucumber you were supposed
To take home, you broke it in half
And gobbled it down, before
We got to town!
I remember with pride, how good
You were, after you arrived,
And I wish that I could go back
In time, when life was so fine.
Augustine Nash.

Granddaughter.

Yesterday my Granddaughter got married in Bali to the man of her dreams. [She lives in Western Australia] Unfortunately I could not attend, but wish them both all the luck on this time round.

Today.

I have just finished correcting my latest book, title; The Camera Never Lies. Now I can send it away for proofreading. Not sure what I am going to write next, I usually have a dream about it! Today is wet and grey, nothing unusual about that. Augustine Nash.

Poem; Pooh, my love.

Pooh was a stray cat
Who landed at my house,
But in the time we had her
She never caught a mouse!
Pooh was a tabby cat
Who only had one eye,
And took herself down Fen Street,
To see what she could spy.
It wasn't long before a cry went up,
"She's eaten all my cheese,
Can you find me some more, please?"
All the boys went fishing,
Just outside our door,
And of course Pooh went back for more!
She was the kind of animal
Who loved the warmth of fire,
One day she sat too close to it,
And her fur was set afire!
Singed and blackened
But none the worse for wear
It did not cure her, because
She always insisted sitting there.
Pooh was a friendly cat
Affectionate, warm and true,
And every time Liam came to stay,
He would call her from outside,
"Pooh, my love, dinner time!"
And from somewhere she would appear
Like a steam train express,
Ah! Yes, she never missed a trick,
And I suppose up in Heaven,
She will still be pinching cheese,
Of course, looking very pleased!
Augustine Nash.

Poem, The passing years.

 The passing years.
Where does the time go?
When I was seventeen
My world had just begun,
I met you and life was fun.
I never thought of growing old,
There was always so much to do,
But then the years flew by,
And I, became aware of how
My life was slipping away,
And each day flew by
on wings, and I retired.
But time has moved relentlessly
On since then, and I am
Seventy six, now you are not
Here I have to get others
To fix things around the house,
Even that mouse.
I fill my empty days with writing,
History books, and so much more,
Which passes that time,
And now I know, where it goes!

Augustine Nash.

Poem; Flossie became a Pommie!

Oh how I miss my Flossie,
She was such an endearing might,
With an apatite for fresh chicken
And liver, every night.
None of those tins of dog food
Would she even consider, no,
For her it was the best we could
Give her! She did not like the
Postie, even though she was bribed,
Nipped her on the ankle,
So had to be locked up inside.
She was born in Aussie land,
But came to UK, travelling all
The way on an aeroplane.
She was a clever dog,
Counting up to ten, and
When asked, would roll over,
Again and again.
Flossie lived a full 25 years,
And in that time showed in no
Uncertain way, she was the boss,
Oh how I weep for her loss.
But now she's up in Heaven
Where all good doggie's go,
Where she has joined her master,
And I know, they will be
Walking on clouds together,
Close as ever.
Augustine Nash.

Today I am starting to correct a murder story I have written, not my favourite hobby going back over what I have written, but it has to be done. Hope you all have a good day. Author, Augustine Nash.

Poem. If wishes were horses beggers would ride!

Oh! I wish my phone would ring
Just once in a while,
That would make me smile.
Oh! I wish for an E Mail
From far away,
That would make my day.
Oh! I wish I would get a letter,
Telling me how your are,
That would make my day
In a big big way.
Oh! I wish wishes came true,
But all I have
Is the silence of this room.

Augustine Nash.

Having a bad day. Dropped my favourite mug and it smashed to pieces, cut my finger on sharp knife, my phone went on the blink but thankfully it is working properly again, something to do with the atmospherics? I am trying to decide what story to write in my next book while doing some illustrating, any ideas? I would love to hear from anyone who reads this. Augustine Nash.

Today I am working on a book for my granddaughter Sarah, creating poems from old faxes she used to send me, and illustrating them. Anyone looking at this please feel free to get in touch with me, that would make my day! Many thanks to the people In America and elsewhere who have bought my E book, title, 'Nailed,' a murder mystery story. Every single book sold gives me immense pleasure after working so hard for years. When is the weather going to cheer up? Augustine Nash.

Today my lovely daughter Sandra is flying back to Perth, WA. It has been so lovely having her company and I will miss her. The three weeks she was here seemed to have flown by, as of course it always does. Back to my own company! Augustine Nash.

granddaughter's wedding.

Yesterday my lovely granddaughter Hannah got married, congratulations to them both, I hope they share a long happy life together. Her parents, Steve and Ellen, did a wonderful job and it was enjoyed by all.
Augustine Nash.

Hi All- This is my new book about three generations of a family in West Australia. 
It is now on Amazon and available for your Kindle as an E-Book.

Augustine Nash.

Publication Date: February 12, 2013

In 1830 the Dunn family, two farm workers and a governess Allie emigrate to Western Australia, building ‘Woburn House’ beside the Margaret River. A daughter is born which is a disappointment causing a rift between the couple.

The story follows the success and failure of the family, their trials and up lifting times as they strive through three generations to make a life in their new environment. Native Aboriginals prove to be invaluable to their survival and relationships’ are formed with other white settlers.

The land itself proves hostile in typical Australian style with bush fires, drought, cattle stealing and plagues of rabbits. There are difficulties but encouragement too, salvage from a wrecked ship, gold; marriage into a wealthy family, pearls discovered, and children born.

Agatha, the last of the line endures the sorrows of two World Wars and as a lonely 70 year old becomes a recluse, pondering all that has gone before and concerned for the future of the house and farm beside the beautiful Margaret River which she has so loved.

Tomorrow is my 76th birthday and it is special this year as my daughter has come to stay with me from Western Australia which pleases me immensely. My granddaughter gets married the next day so it will be a busy weekend!

To my late husband.

 For Vic.
I wish I could send you E Mails in heaven,
To tell you how much I miss you.
Or, dial a number and speak to you
Of all the things I left unsaid.
How we spent a lifetime together
and how I have never stopped loving you.
I would say, "Do you remember the night we met,
When I gazed into your blue eyes?"
It was like drowning with happiness, love at first sight,
You looked so handsome in your blue RAF uniform,
Knife pleads in your trousers, shoes that shone
And white belt blankcowd to perfection.
You gently took me by the hand, and, by torchlight
Proudly showed me the sweet-peas you had grown.
And so we walked through life together,
Encountering problems on the way, and you would say,
"It will be all right, you wait and see."
You were my rock, my inspiration, and was always there for me.
We shared so much together, and I know
When it comes my time, like you always said,
"Don't worry, I will come back for you."

Augustine Nash.

First part of a children's story.

Hi everyone, here is the first instalment of a children's story, which I hope they will enjoy. To be continued later.

Murphy.

 

Charlie walked along the row of cages with his mother inspecting each animal, then passing on stopping at the last one to curiously stare inside.

Murphy was the most dejected dog you ever saw with over-large ears, sad eyes and huge paws. He never even looked up when the boy said, "I want him, please Mum."

"Perhaps we ought to look at the rest first, before you make up your mind," his mother answered uncertainly. The truth was she did not think that this animal was at all suitable; he looked so scruffy and was not what she really had in mind.

"Oh please Mum, I really like him," Charlie pleaded.

Murphy was tired of people not wanting to choose him and had tried his hardest to appear more interesting, but decided he would put his best effort into finding a new home just one more time. Hauling himself up he walked over to the cage door, looking up at the boy with appealing brown eyes.

"Just look at him Mum, he only needs someone to love and give him some attention," Charlie said, squeezing his fingers through the wire netting to touch the dog's head. Murphy rewarded him with a wet sloppy kiss.

And so it came about that Murphy was taken to his new home, a small terraced house at number 34, Grinstead Street, on the outskirts of the town.

At first Murphy was shut up in the kitchen every night, but after a while he rebelled against this and made such a noise that he was allowed into Charlie's bedroom where he lay on the bottom of the bed feeling quietly content.

It was still quite dark when Murphy was woken up by the sound of sobbing, so he went to investigate. Stretching out a large paw he touched Charlie's shoulder, saying, "What is the matter, are you ill?"

Immediately the sobs stopped. "Murphy, is that you talking?" Charlie asked, filled with surprise.

"Of course it is, but I don't normally let on that I can understand what you humans are saying."

"I didn't know that dogs could talk."

"Well, what's the matter, you can tell me all about it," Murphy comforted, understanding what it was like to have problems. His last master had put him in the dogs home when he had got tired of having to look after him and take him for a walk. He had felt lost, alone and unwanted. However, now he belonged and was fiercely loyal to this boy who had chosen him above all  the rest of the animals.

"It's this boy at school, who is always bullying me and I can't stop him," Charlie answered, giving in to tears again.

Murphy considered this problem carefully. "Leave it to me, I know all about that sort of thing."

"But what can you do?"

Murphy laid his head on Charlie's chest, "You'll see." Slowly they drifted off to sleep curled up together.

Augustine Nash.

 

 

 

 





short story for today.

Hi all, today I am writing you a short story, hope you will enjoy it.

I had never stayed in a hotel before and naturally was nervous of what was the correct procedure. At first when I walked through into the lobby and was confronted by the young woman behind the desk, I felt as if I wanted to turn tail and run away. However, that was quickly got over as I was put at my ease, and my new suitcase was carried up to my room on the second floor.
In a way it was exciting until I remembered why I had come; or should I say ran away from it all! No one really understands when your fiancé fails to turn up at the church, and then leaves without any explanation. It has been a struggle pulling myself back into the land of the living, and I am justly proud that I persevered, through gritted teeth.
Well, never mind all that now I am here, and that is all that really matters. I wander round this unfamiliar room like a lost sheep, wondering, 'What comes next?'
Suddenly, I hear a voice calling my name from down below, and feel undecided. I hesitate, open my door and peek up and down the corridor. What a relief, it is empty. I start down the stairs, trying to look sophisticated; a woman of the world, and then I remember.
I enter my room again feeling quite relieved and yet at the same time realising things have to be faced. Picking up the fashionable red handbag I had bought especially to take on my honeymoon, I turn, only then noticing the window is wide open. Outside the day is grey and cold, it is not really a good time to be taking a holiday. And then the bedside phone rings. Who can it be, nobody knows I am here.
I pick it up and a voice says, "Darling, your mother told me where you are, look I'm really sorry..."
I put the phone down and walk away to start all over again.

Augustine Nash.

NAILED a new book on Amazon by Augustine Nash

Something cut her foot but she was unaware of it. However, she was of something else. The small transparent shape which appeared and floated towards the gate, where it turned and hovered. “My little butterfly!” she screamed a terrifying sound which rent the air. The apparition seemed to be beckoning before dissolving into the rapidly cooling air. Ellie is determined to find out who murdered her daughter Jessica and recruits the help of Doctor Hugh Staines. After a young girl goes missing in Stickly Village and is found murdered the investigation is re-opened by Detective Frank Carter. Ellie’s estranged sister Jacqueline turns up out of the blue. Thomas Skeine and his son Andrew both have a violent past, arouse suspicion when Thomas’ wife Irene commits suicide, and his youngest son is killed in an ‘accident’. Ellie’s ex-husband Tony and his second wife are also under the microscope. But when Ellie goes missing, and the list of suspects grows longer, will Doctor Hugh Staines and Detective Frank Carter be able to get a clear picture of what is going on? Will Ellie be found alive, and will Jessica’s murderer be found? Something strange is going on in Stickly Village, and Hugh is determined to help get to the bottom of it.

Hi All. My name is Augustine Nash and below are the details for my new book. It is a murder /mystery
that will keep you guessing till the end. I am new to blogging and would love to hear from people about different subjects and hope that you will read my book.
I am going to be putting different things on here including short stories and poetry and maybe some of my art.
Looking forward to hearing from you all.

Augustine.

Nailed [Kindle Edition]

Augustine Nash (Author)
 t

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Kindle Price: £2.99 includes VAT* & free wireless delivery via Amazon Whispernet * Unlike print books, digital books are subject to VAT.

Length: 250 pages (estimated)