Collection of poems

Midsomer Murders

I happen to be a fan of Midsomer Murders and when it is possible take time out to watch each episode – it’s a time for me, to relax, to be fanciful, to wish I had a John Nettles as a father figure/ friend in my life , to watch a story, to take in tragedy and to see the good guys win in the end. It’s a time to be empty of all I need to do,ought to do, should have done. It’s a time when I strip away all expectations, it’s a time when I’m vulnerable. It’s a time I set aside – it is a time that is the music in the noise and din of my life. It is a time that is the space in the clutter of all I am and all I want to be. All I know I could be. Of all I know I will never be.

If you have ever watched ‘Midsomer Murders’ the title of this collection of poems might seem decidedly dodgy and rather reckless given the ongoing number of bodies in each episode. But in our deepest reality there is a dream, in our deepest tiredness, there is the promise of rest. In the middle of the mundane there is a glimpse, of something other than ourselves, something tiny and yet vast enough to fill the universe. Something fleeting and yet eternal. Something riven with pain and yet full of the profoundest joy. What do we call these glimpses? God?, Truth? Beauty? Wisdom?Or all these things and more . Or perhaps words are only the clues and we have to listen to the silence and the space between them to really hear and see and know.


A Midsomer moment is a moment that is not a moment at all it is a lifetime, all lifetimes, all possibility. It is noticing a ladybird on a leaf. It is seeing the beauty in a drop of water hanging from a tap. It is not shying away from wonder or disfigurement. It is being silent when there are no words and singing when words are not enough. I hope some of these poems may offer a glimpse of a midsomer moment and encourage you to reflect and treasure all those things in your life which are timeless and precious


On Sidmouth Beach

A blanket of stones, like

Bones, weathered and aged,

Covered and deserted by the ebb and flow

of the blood of the sea.

smaller ones

Like speckled eggs

In a vast nest

Patrolled by pigeons and gulls

And trampled on by feet like mine

In shoes

So unsuitable.

And all the while the sea,

Gentle today

Caresses my thoughts

With its gush and trickle

And music

And I remember


                                                  for Mandy and Richard

















Final notes

The music is quieter now, the cymbals are still, cellos and flutes are back in their cases, and the conductor has laid down his baton leaving his score neatly folded on its stand . The music can find its own way now. For a simple melody is all that remains, gently playing in the background as the lights are dimmed for the last time and the stage is cleared.

It is the audience that stay, reluctant to leave their seats as the notes hang in the air and they breathe in again the essence of symphonies ,and songs that have so moved them. Applauding in the silence , savouring , smiling , grasping the melodies and then releasing them back to their source.

Remembering and rejoicing

Humming along, always humming along to favourite tunes.

Thank you my friend for being the music, for playing so beautifully and for leaving us something to always love.

For Sharon



When we watch the rain fall and waves lap against a shore, When we watch trees swaying in the breeze and flowers gently bowing their heads at evening time, When we see the swallows gathering together ready for their long journey home, When we see children laughing and playing, when we see toddlers walking for the first time, When we hear music playing and geese calling as they fly overhead. when we see a dragon fly hover and rest and fly off again.

When we look out at hills in the distance, when we see mist rising, When we see dogs racing round chasing sticks, when we are in front of the fire and watch the flames dance, When we see stars breaking through, lighting up a dark night when we see rose petals falling softly to the ground, When we listen to our own hearts, when we embrace one another, when we are alone, when we are together, We will think of you, gently, quietly, thankfully, We will think of you.      For Anna



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julie | Reply 01.02.2014 09.16

that last one is really beautiful

Angie Carney | Reply 19.08.2013 20.47

Lynne, this is beautiful... would you think about doing a creative writing day with us at Sidmouth Prayer Room? Maybe we could walk - write - eat together?

caroline | Reply 08.08.2013 15.21

beautiful images, and so thoughtful!

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Latest comments

19.03 | 12:34

hi ebook now available of Out of the Mist - it is very different from my other story but hope you like it -

11.12 | 15:21

will do thanks again for your encouragemnet

11.12 | 15:15

Great news - it would be good if you drop me a line when it is available. Thanks

11.12 | 05:29

Hi i have just written a novella 38.000 words which i hope to self publish early next year thanks for your encouragement all good wishes lynne

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