This week on the podcast, we have poems by Bernard Shaw and Gertrude B McClain, as well as myself. Our guest will be the amazing @eleven.twety.four! And our poem of the week is “Lines written at a small distance from my house,” by William Wordsworth.

So without further ado, let’s get to it!

Bernard Shaw was an Irish playwright and writer who was born in 1856. In 1925, he received the Nobel Prize in Literature and in 1938 he won an Academy Award for best adapted screenplay. You may have heard of  one of his works, Pygmalion, which was adapted as a Broadway musical starring Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews, and later a film starring  Harrison and Audrey Hepburn.

The poem I will read today is called A New Start.

I have wiped the slate clean,
No more reminders from the past.
Memories of what I have been,
Have vanished at long last.
I look forward to my future new,
Where all is territory strange.
Soon I will be among the few,
That plans their life at long range.
I see my life laid out at my feet,
New friends shall rally at my call.
They will be the first I will greet,
At this my welcoming ball.
Soon all memories will depart,
Of a past left well behind.
I will get off to a new start,
With the best of mankind.


Our next poem is by Gertrude B McClain, unfortunately I was not able to find much biographical information about this poet online although the poem I will be reading today is very widely known, it appears across many social media sites.

The poem is called New Beginnings.

It’s only the beginning now
…a pathway yet unknown
At times the sound of other steps
…sometimes we walk alone

The best beginnings of our lives
May sometimes end in sorrow
But even on our darkest days
The sun will shine tomorrow.

So we must do our very best
Whatever life may bring
And look beyond the winter chill
To smell the breath of spring.

Into each life will always come
A time to start anew
A new beginning for each heart
As fresh as morning dew.

Although the cares of life are great
And hands are bowed so low
The storms of life will leave behind
The wonder of a rainbow.

The years will never take away
Our chance to start anew
It’s only the beginning now
So dreams can still come true.


And that brings us to the part of the show where I recite a poem I have written myself. Today’s poem is called Beside You.

Driving through the mountains,

On our way to something new,

All about us raindrops sound,

But I know I’ll be okay beside you.

The windscreen wipers dance so wild,

Waving us on to our new home,

Resting on each other’s shoulders,

We’ve got 100 miles yet to go.

Our path may have twists and turns,

But together we’ll get through,

So we smile in anticipation,

I know I’ll be okay beside you.

The space behind our heads,

Is filled with our belongings,

But your fingers laced between mine,

Is the only thing I’ll ever be longing.

And though we are both anxious,

This adventure is not carefree,

I can’t wait to build our new home,

I know I’ll be okay with you beside me.



Now, I am very excited to announce our first ever guest poet, it’s eleven.twenty.four, everyone!



I am a creature of habit, happy to stroll through life,
Following my schedule of work, eat, sleep, repeat.
The thought of being surrounded by new faces,
Hearing new stories, half told to cover up new motives,
That bring new conflicts, that turn into new goodbyes,
Creates such anxiety that I’d rather be in isolation.
Simplicity is comfortable but simplicity breeds stagnancy,
So I find myself constantly,
Torn between the need for personal growth,
And the desire for solitary confinement.
With each new sunrise I try to compromise with change and tradition,
I strive to listen to them both, opening myself to feel their needs,
So I am able to find them a new common ground to call home.
I am under construction, at the start of a new beginning,
Learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable,
But I am in bloom and there is nothing more beautiful than new life.


Thank you so much for being my first ever guest poet! It’s been lovely speaking to you and hearing about your process!


And last but by no means least, we have our poem of the week! This week’s poem is “Lines (written at a small distance from my house, and sent by my little boy to the person to whom they are addressed)” by William Wordsworth.


It is the first mild day of March:

Each minute sweeter than before,

The red-breast sings from the tall larch

That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air,

Which seems a sense of joy to yield

To the bare trees, and mountains bare,

And grass in the green field.

My Sister! (’tis a wish of mine)

Now that our morning meal is done,

Make haste, your morning task resign;

Come forth and feel the sun.

Edward will come with you, and pray,

Put on with speed your woodland dress,

And bring no book, for this one day

We’ll give to idleness.

No joyless forms shall regulate

Our living Calendar:

We from today, my friend, will date

The opening of the year.

Love, now an universal birth,

From heart to heart is stealing,

From earth to man, from man to earth,

— It is the hour of feeling.

One moment now may give us more

Than fifty years of reason;

Our minds shall drink at every pore

The spirit of the season.

Some silent laws our hearts may make,

Which they shall long obey;

We for the year to come may take

Our temper from today.

And from the blessed power that rolls

About, below, above;

We’ll frame the measure of our souls,

They shall be tuned to love.

Then come, my sister I come, I pray,

With speed put on your woodland dress,

And bring no book; for this one day

We’ll give to idleness.


Thank you so much to everyone who listened, it means so much to me!

All my love,