Guernsey Poets

In the nooks  and  the  corners  of  La Roque  Lane Images,  memories  ever  remain That  was  where  my  education  was  gained In  the...

What happened to the flowers You used to wear in your hair Now you have grey streaks there What happened to the people That so long ago...

Oh to be in the ski-lands again  Riding the crisp white;  Tiny toy villages below    Then down through the corduroy;  Dark pines and w...

Say, I like toys,     Christmas toys. Remember when we were boys     Long ago? Then you were a kid     Not a beau. And on Christmas D...

I grew up on another island With the mackerel man and his evening shouts Down quiet roads we rode our steeds  Through the gorse and fern...

Imagine life before hummus No olives and flatbread No tapas or leaves Nor ready cut veg Fruit in their season Then made into jam No...

There are offices there now; windows shining brightly out into the dark. Maybe the power we felt back then is still burning underneath ...

Days gallop by, months, years, so fast that panic of a sort sets in: you feel that all the dreams you had have slipped away, it’s all t...

I fell through the branches And crashed to the ground Kids in their laughter All gathered around I stood in their shadow And brushed of...

Old Guernsey boys how they reminisce, About the women they’ve loved And the girls they’ve kissed, About summer romances and flirtations ...

we would run ancient heroes on the long silver beach chase wild water ’til midnight on the shoreline of the reach over timber to the c...

Sitting here in endless twilight Smokey dreams stroll through my mind From below the cliff I fell from I remember sweeter times When we...

We rushed off from school to where the Cradle Rock waited And spent all the summers on that beautiful beach Ran down where the Water Lane...

Upon the summer soft shimmering air, There are voices, fleet of foot calling invisibly. And suddenly my own childhood re-emerges shyly To...

I sat on the sand on the edge of our land And listened to seagulls a-singing The hands of the church clock reached some unknown time An...

If you're like me, around sixty-five you'll know exactly what I mean when all the young people felt really alive and global peace...

Memories live in this old homestead Through the years they still delight Of a young boy window gazing At the brilliant starry night How ...

Out of mingled childhood mem'ries, Myriad warm and lovely dreams, One stands out above all others, Down the water lanes a stream Twi...

Time creeps up on us the older we grow Bent and wizened like an ancient oak tree, Grasping the future all those years ago The golden ole ...

At jumble sales and stalls of bric-a-brac, these old things gather like tide wrack washed up out of a sea of years: the shoehorn with th...