Poetry
Abby's Poetry - work in progress


Great Oaks of England
~ a poem commissioned by the Mayor of Bournemouth
for the King's Coronation ~
Great Oaks of England; Kings and Queens
with branches high and roots unseen.
And when a great oak dies and falls,
a younger shoot takes up the call.
An upturned root, a ‘stump’, no least,
becomes a home for bird or beast.
For all the creatures in the wood
deserve a heart that bids them good.
I doubt that I shall ever find,
a stumpery as fine as thine.
In Highgrove, where our King resides
with Queen Camilla by his side.
~
Amongst the Plane trees of the Mall
Pigeon and squirrel witness all.
Trees bow their heads in silent grace,
sheltering each beaming face.
To catch a glimpse of Diamond coach,
in steady, purposeful approach.
To Westminster, they will be crowned,
with faithful subjects gathered round.
To witness Charles, his birth-right won,
a loyal, proud, enduring son.
To follow in your footsteps, Ma’am,
to rule this land with grace and charm.
‘To the King of England’ ~ toast with wine.
To sit upon that throne divine,
where countless Monarchs since have reigned
and seen each era grow and change.
Newly crowned, our King, so bold,
travelling in a coach of Gold,
returns to ‘Monarchy HQ’.
(Buckingham Palace, to me and you).
In Britain, the Commonwealth, the World,
we watch as a new dawn unfurls.
In ancient oaks, the birds will sing,
‘Glory to our new crowned King’.
​Abby G Poetree 2023
Blackbird singing after heavy rain - a sonnet
Nothing, not even words explain
that moment when you so refrain
from flying, but perch in a tree
and sing for no-one, ‘cept for me.
Your voice as clear as crystal glass
an untouched raindrop on the grass.
You cut the air like stainless steel,
you stop me in my tracks, I feel
like all the World has stopped, and then
you sing your silver notes again.
When all the trees have had their drink
up to the gloomy sky you blink.
The Sun who slowly parts the cloud
delights to hear you sing aloud.
