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.