Category Archives: Words from a Bench 2021

Elizabeth Stanforth-Sharpe   I heard them, only yesterday. Trees spinning yarns,     Yabbering stories older than the oldest    Tales; uttering exquisite arborial poetry.     Singing soft, soothing lullabies in whispered, wind-long breaths,      Sighing at the soft snow settling on muttering branches.    Then gently resting, spent, humming contentedly.    Tickled by a passing breeze they, contentedly,     Laughed shivers of greenContinue reading “A Sestina For The Trees”

Jonathan Brown Just a storm in a teacup? The last guest was packing up as Wilf cleared the teacups away. He’d wash them as he wanted to keep them. He’d always liked the plain white crockery with just a subtle blue ring. While he wouldn’t need the full set of 25, he’d keep a fewContinue reading “The Last Hotel”

Imogen Brewer I wake up on the 9th of August on a Sunday morning and turn over to look at the clock hung on the wall. Hanging on the wall are the pictures I hung up last year: me and Phoebe riding the roller coaster that came to the village; my mum helping me rideContinue reading “I wake up on the 9th of August”

(based on a real story) Susana Cortés The squirrels It had been a long winter, and it didn’t seem to be getting to an end yet. As much as the squirrels, ravens, hedgehogs and all the other denizens of the park had worked hard during spring and summer getting a good stash of food forContinue reading “The squirrels, the boy and the bread”

Kathleen Swann She is crow wraithlike shape perched on rough black rocks calls to the sky with dry parched voice windswept ragged coat unravels shreds peel to cloud swirl into feathers form into wings lift her to air fly

Gavin Lewis ‘I remember when this were all trees’ said the man, his grey whiskered face set in a look that said he was busy remembering some distant past. ‘It still is all trees’ said the woman next to him on the bench, without looking up from her newspaper.  ‘Yes, but I remember when itContinue reading “A Park Bench Love Story”

Rebecca Sutcliffe (age 12) The painted lady dances, Upon her summer-time stage, Her dress is white, and orange, and black, But yet she cannot stay, When the weather begins to cool, When the evenings darken, When the blue cornflower, When the scarlet poppy, When the mane of the dandelion, When the delicate cow parsley, AllContinue reading “The Painted Lady Dances “

Logan Pawley – Age 7 Crazy snow excites A million flakes falling Whirling in the gusts 

Duncan Bartlett I remember being captivated by the cascading waterfall, As it crashed over the rocks by the long gone ice cream stall. I remember fish in the still waters under Mercury’s watchful eyes, And listening to the brass band underneath summer’s azure skies. I remember paddling and splashing in a pool in the openContinue reading “Our Bench”

Bill Beaumont (York resident and friend of Rowntree Park) (With acknowledgment and apologies to Kenneth Grahame – Wind in the Willows) In Rowntree Park, down on the lake, By the grass and trees so tall, Ducks and coots are a-dabbling, Up tails all. Ducks and drakes and coots tails, Pointing up toward the sky, TheirContinue reading “Rowntree Park Lake”