‘My mother writes poems. She is 91 and is Wisbech born and bred. Here’s one of her poems’
MURIEL Collins loves writing poetry - so much that her son shared the 91-year-old’s latest piece with us.
“My mother, Muriel Collins, lives in Somers Court and writes poetry,” said Patrick Collins. “She is 91 years old and Wisbech born and bred. Here’s one of her poems, This World.”
The world began a lonely place -
So wet, so cold, so dark, no haste,
God sent some animals there to roam -
You may also want to watch:
The birds and trees to make a home.
Though big and small they made their place -
- 1 Fire destroys family bungalow in the Fens
- 2 Shocks all round as police pull over 'white van man'
- 3 Man found dead in March
- 4 WATCH: Flying Scotsman steams through Cambridgeshire Fens
- 5 Driver leaves girl 'very shaken' after ploughing into car
- 6 Brother pays tribute to 'strongest character I've ever known'
- 7 Seven men jailed for stealing bikes worth £70k
- 8 Inspirational teen's charity walk raises £500 to support ill children
- 9 7 of the best pumpkin picking locations in Cambridgeshire
A lonely life, no human race.
To wander round they learnt to cope –
They never knew to care or hope.
Cold years went by, untouched by man
Animals settled; in trees birds sang.
One tries to imagine the world as thus –
God’s nature, beauty, without life’s fuss.
Beyond the sea and sailing round
Some form came on to solid ground,
Tired and hungry – a little worn –
Began to wonder why it was born.
Thus human man began his life,
And searched to find himself a wife.
The animals began to show their friends
All the bounty nature sends.
The man stood up and looked in space
And thus began the human race.
This lovely world’s so old and tired
It needs our help now to survive.
We’ve picked its pockets, robbed its soul,
God in His wisdom may play a role –
The day will come – who questions when,
Those animals will invade the world again.
Enjoy its freedom with peace to roam,
To live on earth and call it home.
With nature’s blessing so let it be –
The grains of sand return from sea.
One hopes a different kind of man
Returns to cherish his promised land.