Hilda Smout: ‘Mum’s Poems’

Recently I discovered that my Great Grandma, Hilda Smout, was an avid poet. I wanted to share her work as a tribute to her life.

We lost Hilda in 2002. A Mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother

A little seed

I often wonder what is in the ground

The wonders of this Earth

That man, as yet not found.

We plant a little seed into the Earth,

And she unfolds it.

Like a mother unto her child

She succours it.

Then in a little while,

A period of rest

Then it awakens to find

The glory of mankind,

And leaves the darkness

Of the Earth behind

Memories

Memories, they are so dear,

Especially at this time of year,

A baby’s smile, a lovers kiss,

My memories are made of this.

The sky was blue, when I was young.

We played among the new mown hay

Happy as larks the life long day.

When mam would shout us home for tea.

The old dog Nell barking happily

Would follow close behind.

When we got home,

The kettle was singing on the hob.

Mam her hair done in a bob,

Would give us butties thick and sweet,

Oh they were so great to eat.

My memories are made of this,

Sweet as a kiss.

War

I wonder as I look ahead,

What future has in store.

In this war torn world we live in

Will man destroy.

If only men, would stop and think

Of wars that have gone before

If wasted lives, like autumn leaves

Lying dead upon the floor.

Oh would it be, for you and me

If men would live more happily

When will it end, when will men turn

And call each other friend.

Help

My heart is torn with pity.

As Christmas time grows near

I think of Biafra babies

Very far away from here.

I am a simple housewife

Money have I none,

But on this God’s Earth

Can’t something be done.

I see their swollen bellies

Their tiny starving limbs.

With limpid eyes they search the skies

And only ask for a crumb.

My Morning

I stand alone upon a hill

The sweetness of the morning air

My lungs do fill.

I see the fields and hill’s beyond

And ducks quacking on a farmyard pond,

I think of wars across the sea

I stand alone and think, and see.

Thank the Lord for just being ‘Me’ 

Spring

I see the fields

Of growing corn

And thank the Lord

For being born

The world and us

Are born anew

There’s lots on this

Earth that we can do

My prayer 

The little town of Ellesmere

Is shaded by a lovely mere.

High on a hill nearby

St Mary’s Church stands,

Blessing the people that pass by

Her stained glass windows,

Catch the sun as if to say,

Blessed be, the Holy one.

An hour strikes from the old church clock

Inside the vicar awaits his flock

And as I kneel down to pray.

I sometimes, can’t think of words to say.

The words in my heart are between me and thee,

And lord I know thou knowest me.

Forgive me Lord for the sins I have done.

For you are the great forgiving one

For why, should we stray from thee.

When we are all God’s family——