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In the patchwork land of green and gold
They walked where Chaucer’s tales were told
Cross the rambling rustic shires
To raise their eyes to the towering spires
From far flung lands across the sea...

She looked up past the street lights to the sodium sky, it was raining harder now, bouncing up from pavement flagstones, gurgling down kerbstone gutters.
It had been a bad day, Old Mother Price...

An interesting story and if indeed is your first effort its very good. As you have asked for any improvement we can offer, we have to identify any weakness in the story.

I’m thinking on your wife...

Interval
A release of conversation
Above me
Vivaldi lingers in the blue mushrooms
~
Theatre smell
Music dust in crushed burgundy
Climbing the stairways
To the halftime bars
~

The popular image of a poet is a guy wearing a big hat wandering around a rose garden looking to the heavens for inspiration.
Nah, don’t believe a word of it. Reckon they liked a trip to the pub...

This scribbler’s band, we understand meet yearly on Christmas Eve
A gathering of poets and would you know it, more talent it’s hard to perceive
At that den of sin a notorious inn called The Place...

Besmirched, bewildered, betrayed, left-behind, abandoned, run-aground, sinking, suffocated, stepped-on, squashed, flattened, destroyed, obliterated.
The answer is a yes, also it reads like a list...

‘I take it you have read some poetry Bill?’
‘Well, bits and pieces like’.
‘Such as?’
‘Er- one by that sailor bloke, forget his name, I must go down to the sea again—‘
‘Yes, yes. John Masefield,...

Nice write it has the ring of some good phrasing. I think it could be extended to maybe five stanzas. To write a poem in only three lines it has to have an immediate impact on the reader, that’s the...

Look into that cold dismissive stare
Ribbons of past lives are lying there
Jade green eyes of mirrored mystery
Roll back the tumbling years of history
~
This perfumed fur you understand
Once...

The leash undone and free to run
Leaping bounding paws a’ pounding,
Watch me master, faster, faster
Now I’m going for all I’m worth
Skimming over the cool sweet earth
~
Down, down the winding...

Thanks for reading and sorry, no not West Country but a London accent though its much scaled down.
Much you can read on the net about the London accent is laughable i.e. rhyming slang is probably...

The marbles in the poem refer to an anti personal mine that when triggered by a trip wire, a canister filled with metal balls jumps around three feet high and explodes, we called them Jumping Jacks...

The relapsed believer
Discovers Jesus again
Promises unconvincing fealty
In return for divine protection
~
The useless undersized runt
The butt of barrack room jokes
Crawls through hell
To...

Now don’t yer go a’ looking backwards
What’s done is done, the die is cast
No good can come of ponderation
It’s over now it’s gorn and past
~
There’s doings out there to be done
No good staring...

First there is no magic formula and the bottom line is any value placed on what you write is given by the reader not the writer. I would start by saying read poetry, it will only cost your time and...

Your story i.e. Coma is there on page one with 4 replies, check it out.

The small man hid behind the Sunday newspaper, through the open window the smells of summer merged with the tang of furniture polish. He stole a glance to his right. She had never been beautiful;...

‘This poem is yours’

Thank you, accepted with much enjoyment. I do like poetry that speaks to the reader.
I am a firm believer that words have only one function and that is to communicate so...

She would probably try to fit something very personal into the meat grinder. But no she is an excellent cook she makes, among other dishes, a variety of soups that are fit for the gods.
But this...

Now listen guys and listen well
For I have a tragic tale to tell
Our manly ways are in decline
Because we are forced to sit and dine
On packets which our wives unwrap
Tasteless junk and plastic...

The plain moon faced girl behind the shop counter looked at her watch. Ten minutes to closing time, a bit early but there hadn’t been a customer for the last half hour. She opened the till to cash up...

No, there is absolutely no need for any apology, Play it Again Sam I intended to be a reference to Casablanca. My comment was its rather sad when the old stars cannot recognize when its time to...

Quiet the fields of Camberley
In the dew wet dreaming dawn
Half light from the lazy sun
Wakes the Sunday summer morn
~
Munching cows, round eyed patient
Assemble at the milking sheds
Alarm...

Thank you for your comments and for taking the time to read. Personally I feel there is something rather sad in the poem as it deals with the inevitable decline of those who once climbed the peaks...