A poem from a nearby resident - CrzJagger (Dec. 2021)
Everything beneath the dark
Is going to sleep
To wait until spring
The butterfly that came awake
In my warm dining room
And put into a jar
With wet honey
His red colours of summer
The next day I looked to see
He was there
I opened the lid
But then it warmed
He was flying
In my laundry room
Towards the roof
Where I rescued him
From among the cobwebs
A large spider
Waiting to grab the prey
I put him back into the jar
For he too must wait
As I must wait for spring
To renew my energy.
A past visitor - new to our village kindly provided the following poems:
How delightful, how could you want more?
I’m speaking of course, of little Wedmore.
A gem, an oasis twixt Wells and Cheddar
Then there’s Glastonbury, a special treasure.
Other choices are just a short drive away
Even if ‘Wedmorians’ can be lured away.
The four of us two ’Wedmorians’ and we
Roamed around with adventurous hiliarity.
We’d seen the towns with the tourist image
But happier, returning home to the village.
KAJ Nov' 2016
It’s tucked away in a valley resplendent, self contained.
Once off the M5 you wonder if you will ever arrive.
And in giving up a stranger couldn’t be blamed
But patience has its own reward, a village that thrives.
Being off the beaten track can be such a bonus.
When you are so close to a tourist trail.
Friendly folk, without vendettas or onus.
With a host of attractions which can’t fail.
Glastonbury with its wealth of history and fables.
Wells too has spanned the years with a rich backcloth of tales
There’s the Cheddar Gorge and its majestic granite gables.
It’s weather beaten spires that are constantly assailed
There are the ‘levels’ too which gave Somerset its name.
Providing no hiding place in the battle of Sedgemoor,
adding history and gallantry to the county’s fame,
the last pitched battle in an English military war.