Retired Dental Surgeon, Gordon Wolffe, Shares His Passion

Gordon Wolffe, a retired dental surgeon living in England, submitted the poem Progress, which he wrote 55 years ago - and as a song too. I loved both versions. Hence, you will find both below!

About his life and inspiration, Gordon wrote to me:

As a child, adolescent and even to this day ( I am 77) I always have been a great lover of gardens, green spaces and preserving the beauty and wonder of nature. When I was in my early 20’s I could see the slow destruction of the natural world in our country and also where I lived, which I found very disturbing and this led me to write these short verses. To this very day, the peace, energising and inspiration of the countryside and also my own garden bring me a great deal of solace.

Professionally, as a teenager, I wanted to work in horticulture, but my parents found this ‘unsuitable’ so I ended up graduating from Guy’s Dental School, later specialising in Periodontology and getting my Fellowship in Dental Surgery from the Royal college in England. Subsequently, I was fortunate to get a scholarship in Periodontology to study this subject at post graduate level at the University of Pennsylvania which due to circumstances led me to live for almost 30 years in Holland and set up an M.Sc. programme in Perio at the University of Nijmegen.

Music and writing have always been part of our family and I feel very privileged to have been blessed with this throughout my life.

Playing the piano for Gordon is Lyn Parkyns, a professional singer, conductor of classical music and also a highly accomplished pianist.

About Lyn, Gordon wrote, “ I am very fortunate to have had her as a teacher!” Lyn celebrated her 90th birthday recently and from her playing one would never guess it!

Starlit night nights, golden days,

Sighing trees, sobbing leaves,

Look around, ‘tis the autumn of life.

Wild rose bow your head,

Say farewell to the sky

As your last petal brushes the ground.

For the footsteps of progress,

March onward releasing,

Destructive creation,

Creeping, unceasing.

Whispering grass,

Now is past,

And the gold has turned to grey,

Look around, ‘tis the winter of life.

For the fields now are stone,

Man is here yet life has gone!

As the footsteps of progress march on, march on.

Send me your poem, song, music, images or video of your hand craft (artwork, woodwork, dressmaking, embroidery, etc) or other creation with a blurb about yourself and, provided it is not contrary to the Better Way Principles below, I will endeavour to publish it. Preferably no AI in the creation please :)

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