Poems > In Consett Park...

In Consett Park, where hills and trees rise

by Kevin Carney

In Consett Park, where hills and trees rise,

A game of green bowling brings endless ties.

With balls in hand, they roll and swing,

Competing in sport, a marvelous thing.

On the verdant green, the bowlers stand,

Firmly poised, with a steady hand,

Aiming true, with eyes fixed ahead,

As the rumbling bowls are sweetly shed.

The beaming sun paints the scene in gold,

As stories are shared, and friendships unfold.

Laughter echoes through the gentle breeze,

As friendships grow strong, like ancient trees.

In Blackhill, where memories flow,

The players gather, ready to throw,

Their vibrant bowls carve paths anew,

Guided by skill, like arrows they flew.

Amidst the cheers and the joyful cries,

The bowlers focus, their hearts arise.

With determined stance, they take their aim,

Seeking glory and glory they attain.

Through jacks and numerous ends their spirits lift,

Their passion fierce, their love a gift.

The game unites, in a symphony of sound,

In Consett Park and Blackhill, circles round.

Green bowling binds these places tight,

Fostering bonds that shine so bright.

In sport and leisure, joys are shared,

In Consett Park and Blackhill, we're all ensnared.

In Consett Park, you'll find delight.

And in Blackhill, where legends grow,

Bowling echoes, in jubilant flow.