Freda Davis began writing poetry when Elvis sang ‘Heartbreak Hotel’. First poem published in Liverpool Mag 'Phoenix 9' Summer 1963 alongside Roger McGough, David Selzer and Brian Patten. Her poems are inspired by nature and the seasons, mind and body, pagan and feminist themes. Her work is funny, rhythmical and has a musical quality good for reading aloud. Her feminist poetry was published in 'Spare Rib' magazine and the Women’s Health tome 'Our Bodies Ourselves' (Penguin 1989) and poems on life and the mind, in Calderdale Mind magazine in the 90’s. She has performed at Lancaster Uni 70-73, with Bradford Women Singers' in the early 90’s and with Puzzle Hall Poets in Sowerby Bridge for over two decades. She has produced two of her own collections: 'Sympathetic Magic' (1988) on inner and outer journeys, and ‘Well Woman Poems’ (2003) which brings together her observations on the struggle to stay well in an unbalanced world. Freda is also a line artist. Her magical moon calendar is widely sold and is echoed in her many, nature-based, spiritual poems. Freda is also a keen member of Puzzle Poets, a high quality, fun reading and performance space for poets.
Puppy Half past eight in the morning Nobody else was up. I would have been asleep myself But we had a brand new Pup The air was sharp and breezy, The ground wet from overnight rains The sky like a well used tea towel Dirty grey with a few red stains. We trotted downhill to the river, The dog leaving marks on the wall. Over the bridge and into the woods. This was our regular stroll. We surprised a gossip of squirrels The puppy was off like a hound. One fled on the path up the hillside like a leaf drifting over the ground. As we stood, yellow light burst around us. The sun shot up over the hill. The trunks of the trees became lemon and gold and a rainbow dropped down to the mill. All the beech leaves shone copper like money. We stared at the sight, and stood still. LOVE TURNS THE WHEEL Love turns the wheel, The knife turns in the wound. The stars turn in their courses. I turn tail. This whirling world. My turn is yet to come. I am the clown, who falls about the ring, And turns the children's tears to mockery. They ring upon my ears. I turn to stone. I spin, I am the top. You hold the whip. This is the twist that turns your mind to me. Love is the roundabout. We ride its hub. A wheel of fortune, spun with tears and time. METRO LAMENT On the Brighouse bus They make no fuss As it rolls and swings Round Ellands’ rings. It follows the Calder By Abbey and Mills through Mirfield and Raven Up Dewsbury Hill. It takes no heed Of Osset’s need But flies on to Wakefield However you plead. When all’s said and done It’s much more fun On the 251 Through Batley, Birstall, Birkenshaw, Brierly, Bradford. Well it’s neck and neck Through Cleck and Heck On the Sheffield Express That I caught on spec. Not counting the cost. But the driver got lost For an hour and a half On a half hour run And we all felt a wreck When that trip was done. When all’s said and done It’s much more fun On the 251 Through Batley, Birstall, Birkenshaw, Brierly, Bradford. Through Wakefield Westgate The Intercity. High speed Express mate. So what a pity That mishaps at Leeds Reduce these speeds And trains are delayed Till nerves are frayed And the Halifax train Is late again. When all’s said and done It’s much more fun On the 251 Through Batley, Birstall, Birkenshaw, Brierly, Bradford.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
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