Writings and products to inspire and empower positive emotions.

Hartland Point - North Devon, England

When a bird flies


A lone seagull flies

And I open my eyes, as a breathtaking picture unfolds;

A silver grey sea

With wide canopy of soft sky with rain clouds of gold.

This coast brave and grand

Caused by God’s mighty hand, gives us blessings that echo his love.

White breakers crash

Granite rocks smash, such power sent down from above.


Yet a tender small flower

Carpets glistening showers in wide waves of colour o’er cliffs

Strong, yet shattered by time

Turned and twisted in lines, in segments of fine sculptured drifts.

He’s a purpose for all

If we hear his call and seeing his power are bid

Spread his wondrous words

As a gathering of birds we’ll see that his love is not hid.

Bucks Mills, North Devon, England

Braund Family Home – Bucks Mills


The air is clear and hints of salty seas

Nearby, are blowing in on the fresh breeze.

The sky, pale azure blue and whitish bright

Its thermals lifting seabirds in their flight

Across the waves afar, but not so far

 Away, waves are crashing to the shore.


But stay a while, the sounds from garden heard;

White-water flowing leat, the twittering birds,

The buzz of bees, and brothers’ distant calls,

A flip of white page, reader sleeps, it falls

Onto the new cut grass, green soft to foot.

Have they come home, it likely seems, perhaps not.


White walled the cottages: primrose, bluebell,

Industrious pride has gone, some ruins tell

Of times when Braunds out furious seas were blown;

Destinies written in the breaking foam.

That life birthed here a dynasty did spawn.

Bucks Mills will always draw Braund family home.

Written by Lizzie during a week spent at No 5 Forest Gardens, Bucks Mills following the 2008 Braund Reunion Weekend, attended with friend Simon, son of Gwendoline Braund (1911-1985) Branch 5.

Godremadog Mill, Pembrokeshire


 Greener days


Greener days in Pembrokeshire

Where spirit’s home

Valley deep, where salmon leap

Here minds free roam.


Tumbling river thunder heard

Forever there

Harnessed power, made to work

Ease millers cares.


Godremamog Mill stands tall

Of slate and iron

Strong and safe of natural stone

Imposing, fine.


Steep escarpment, green leaf clothed

Rain feeds them well

Water falls, the mill wheel turns

Ground flour to sell.


Offered now are five warm flats

For healthy rest

The mill works still to pay its way

Where air is best.


Breathing deep the eco life

Valued green days

Welcome to Godremamog Mill

A homely stay.

Lizzie wrote this poem after staying at the Mill in 2008 and 2009.

Visit their site and see how things have changed!

Godremamog Water Mill
Unique watermill self catering holidays

with hot tub & pool in beautiful West Wales

Southern Ireland

From Ireland

I  feel the sun’s kind rays and gently rock

Winds flatter my hair, engines throb

The waves and rhythm of the rolling ship

From Ireland, a land of kind, a promise of hope

But not this time


For us a land of splendid landscapes hidden

Mists, rain, winds, then gasp and want

A momentary touch of gold, of dance, of warmth

My sanctuary, a memory glimpsed, an essence of understanding


Mixed thoughts of home

Peace must come, an end to weariness, work, worry

I turn to the sun, and know that time has seen

Wounds bathed and will shape tomorrow.