Bog oak: a Buried Treasure.  Oak that has been buried in a marsh or peat bog, preserved from decay for hundreds or thousands of years.  Our poet Simon Haines sports a precious bog oak thumbstick … it is Day 661 of the daily poems. Bog oak thumbstick Black, straight and hardtopped with a Y, my bog… Continue reading

On Day 660 of the daily poems, our poet Colin Hopkirk has found something golden.  Could this glittering fabrication be a Buried Treasure?  Golden Arm Fabrication on the back of the t-shirtof the woman at thr barwho should have been swimmingbut worked too late tonight Colin HopkirkGolden Arm Fabrication of Lincoln offers Metal Fabrication and… Continue reading

On Day 659 of the daily poems, our poet Anthony Watts buries a true treasure … Greenfinch The dead bird at your feet – there is nothing more silent, more still. The sunlit meadow of its breast unfaded, yellow tail-lights blazing,it lay on the concrete path below the window that stopped it deadin its flightpath through the conservatory:… Continue reading

Today, on Day 658 of the daily poems, X marks the spot, says our poet Fiona Clark.  And there you may find Buried Treasure, and impressive rigging.  (I’ve got nothing against your right leg. The trouble is – neither have you.) X marks the spot – based on the chap round the corner. The man in… Continue reading

Here is a black and silver treasure brought to us today from the Gaeltacht – where the Gaelic is the common tongue – by our poet Mary L Walsh, on Day 657 of the daily poems. Mackerel fishing in the Gaeltacht  Shrieks as our quarry is scooped up.Our dresses tucked into our knickers.Barefooted afternoon mariners,Silvered… Continue reading