Author Archives: Words from a Lentil Institution

(There’s just one place where I want to be, and that is) Kernow-by-the-Sea

There’s just one place

where I want to be

and that is Kernow

by the sea.


By the sea

upon the shore

I would stand there

for ever more.

A 🐝 Bee Day?

A 🐝 Bee Day?

Is there such a thing

as a 🐝 Bee Day?

A day when the humble 🐝 bee

is treated like royalty?

If not, there should 🐝 be:.

And today is that day

the twentieth of May

when every 🐝 bee has its day.

Shall I or Shalln’ty?

Heaving and hoeing;

Going to Australia,

Row boys row, tie the man down

as the fair maid of Zennor

parades through the town;

Keel the haul,

onan hag oll


Ny wonn vy

What half of that means

nor the other half,

to be honest

as I am –

even though

I have Cornish

in my genes.





onan hag oll: one and all (the Cornish motto)

Ny wonn vy: I don’t know

In Bude

Imbued ,

as I am,

with the sun, the sea,

‘and’ the sand;

I sense a quiet


almost within reach.


The beach, soft underfoot,

attracts my step,

and from there

I blur

the thin line between

sea and shore –

Soaking up the one,

having momentarily

forsaken the other –

still, I endure.


In Bude,

as I am,

upon a summery spring day

I reflect upon the merry


of come what May.


In Bude,

as I am,

I currently have the time

to stop

and construct

this rhyme.

I have super vision – revisited.

Yes, my vision is super –

I am watched over all of the time,

by a person, known in rhyme,

as my super visor, Igor.

He likes to climb mountains,

his favourite…?

Of course, it’s the Eiger.

And, whilst we are mentioning mountains,

let us not forget


that there are also fountains in the world.

Just one letter can make a difference

between a sock

and a hard place.


I did a handstand

at the abandoned bandstand

just they other day.


No band had recently played there,

no tuba, drum or cello:

not a viola, nor a clarinet,

or cor anglais so mellow.


Anyway, a handstand was achieved,

with no one there but me,

and just the distant echoes

of a bandstand band to see.

The wild flowers

The wild flowers were livid;

they were all of a tizz;

because someone had told them,

that, ‘Pedigree is the bizz.’


‘We are as good as them,

if not better!’ they cried.

‘We can grow in places,

where they’ve wilted and died.


We look as pretty

as any fine flora,

have you seen how we flourish,

we have many an adorer.’


‘A weed has never won

at the Chelsea Flower Show;

and from your lowly status,

you can’t expect to grow.’


At this, the weeds became

even more livid,

and brought in a cousin,

‘Introducing our Triffid!’


There was no contest,

weeds came out on top,

but it’s a shame that the Triffid

didn’t know when to stop.

Grounding myself in the garden

Feet firmly footed

planted upon the earth,

I watch the birds at play,

breakfasting, competing,

and it brings me such mirth.


You have to smile at their antics,

the way they swoop and swerve,

perched or poised to swirl aloft,

with instant take-off, landing soft.


Two male blackbirds compete for love;

the coos of communication from dove to dove;

twittering, tweeting, chirps of joy,

or just of greeting. ‘Ahoy! Ahoy!’


For thirty minutes in the garden

is something for which

I beg no pardon,

and worth much more than time can tell.

An inquisitive bee

An inquisitive bee

enquired of me

‘What is it like

to sail the sea?’


I thought a while,

and then replied,

it’s a lovely life,

the sea to ride,


upon a boat,

that stays afloat,

and doesn’t sink at all.


Why do you ask?

Do you feel the call?’


The bee

looked at me,

and said,

‘Why is the sky blue?

and where do Rainbows come from?’


‘What is a quoit?

Where is Nepal?’

And then it took flight

out of my sight,

with ne’er an answer at all.

Monkey puzzled

A monkey was puzzling over a tree

“This tree has got the puzzle of me!”

said the monkey.

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to be,

and why somebody would name it

after me…

and a puzzle.”