David - let me take this "poem" of yours and demonstrate, if I can, why it just doesn't work as poetry or anything else. Here it is:

Mineral water,
    Foliage-dressed wells,
Green-grass on the Slopes,
    Limestone dales,
Clay-tiled arcades,
    Plain-glass awnings,
Shaped-iron columns,
    Stained-glass ceilings,
Earthen garden-urns,
    Wooden inlays,
Soil in a cross,
    Pebble pathways,
And, had between walks,
    Combating the
Weather element,
    Plenty of tea.

(a) What's the point of all this, other than a list of things that make up Buxton? You might as well have put it all in one sentence and be done with it. Surely any poetic vision has a point. If you've listing these things - and "Mineral water" must surely be the most hackneyed and predictable thing with which to start a poem about Buxton - then why not follow that up with a conceit, a metaphor, a diagonal path, a call and response section which makes a point based on the description - for example?

(b) The first 12 lines are short descriptors waiting for a linkage. Then, for no reason whatever, comes the phrase "And, had between walks". But who or what is the "And" linking back to? Nothing and nobody. For sheer clunkiness the phrase "combating the weather element" is hard to beat - wooden and prosaic. Not poetic at all. You could have put the idea in all sorts of lyrical ways. Your way is lumpen and tone-deaf.

(c) "Plenty of tea". Just about sums it up the whole experience.

I say all this to make the points, which I doubt that you'll take, that: (1) You are not a poet and, on this showing, never will be as you have no ear, no imagination and no recognisable poetic expression (2) It follows, therefore, that to constantly refer back to this rubbish as an answer to, or as a defence of criticisms of your particular views, is pointless.

But why am I taking the trouble to write this - you won't listen anyway...