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When contacting Philip, please mention that you found him through LetsGo–Buxton.
Selected Poetry Extracts
Aquae Arnemetiae
(From the book 'More Poems')
(last two stanzas)
The closing twentieth century then revived the Spa town's fate,
A thirst for mineral water in its pure and natural state.
The Buxton Festival was born, a cultured treasure trove,
Again the people flocked to drink the nectar of the grove.
The glory of Grand Opera, Plays, Lectures to impress,
A vibrant Fringe, Jazz, Cabaret, and also G & S.
The pagan spring of long ago is still with flowers dressed,
A custom born in Peakland hills, which clergymen have blessed.
Alas, the famous hospital beneath the The Dome is gone,
Now Derby University, for each and everyone.
Our town entrusts its future state to him that freely thinks,
The thirst for education from the fount of knowledge drinks.
The Crescent waits in anxious state, in hope to wax again,
Spa water is our treasure to conserve, and health retain.
So, pure and pleasant fountain, pray forever may you flow,
Come quench your thirst, revive your life, with Buxton's H2O!
The Girl With Auburn Hair
(From the book 'Selected Poems')
(written in the dialect of the Manifold Valley. Try reading it phonetically. The first three stanzas of this long poem are reproduced here)
'A tell ov a mayd frum th'village grayn, (green)
Agnes Pickrin' wer 'er naym.
Born at a farm 'neyth an 'ill cow'd Shayn, (called Sheen)
An 'oud gyet orbun 'air. (she had)
Oh shay wur fair, theer's non denay,
But wildt an' free, non fancy.
Yit th'uther wenches made 'er cray, (cry)
An taysd abairt 'er 'air. (teased)
Th'yong men o' frum rind abairt,
Tray'dt the best fut win 'er.
B'shay wer chusy, wi'airt a dairt,
An' stalldt 'em wi' 'er stare.
April
(From Poetry, Times Three)
(first two stanzas)
Young April, maiden of the year, with naive smile
now shows her flimsy, peeping green, pubescent, shy.
Escapes that voyeur, Winter, locked too long a while
in prison of his sullen, cold, myopic lie.
Her yellow laughter echoes on the coltsfoot's bank,
re-echoes to the softer cowslip's hanging crag.
Their lime and lemon shun the woodland dank,
which find content in violet's purple brag.
All poems are copyright F. Philip Holland and must not be copied or reproduced in any way. Reproduced here with permission.