Love truly makes the world go round. It is the essence of life.

But like life itself, love is impossible to express, explain or understand. It is something that we can only feel. And if you haven't felt it, you will never understand it.

Poets through the ages have struggled to pin down on paper the unique and individual intimacy which is the fabric of love. So many have got so near but can they ever make us feel exactly what they feel when they talk about love?

In Affectionately Yours a group of poets has dared to aim for the impossible - to define love and express it so that the reader can feel it as purely as they do.

It is a pleasure for us to be able to bring these poems to you, in the hope that you can identify with some of the feelings expressed in them.

Here you will find a selection of work from the book and some contributors have allowed us to add a short pen portrait of themselves.

DETAIL

She lingers with soft detail
A fragment with exception
To promise with such grace
Leaving fixations to purify the change
Loving as the hour turns
Devouring the exception of her heart
Curiously bound by ghosts of the past
He lingers with fine detail
Fragments explored by a devoted soul
Exception of her untold detail

Alexandra Martin, Ringwood, Hampshire

Alexandra Martin said: "Fragments are bound together by exploring thoughts and feelings through ambiguous perception. I am a visual artist who uses poetry and images to construct a visual narrative. My drive is to provoke the reader by composing words which can explore boundaries, using nostalgia, identity and romantic detail."

COME FOLLOW ME

Come take your pew without delay,
And see your problems fade away.
I’ll give so much, with nothing due,
Ah just to share a smile with you.
My soul will reach from outer space,
To share my dear your heart's embrace.
So watch those troubles start to flee,
Come take that first step,
Follow me.

Fred Ablitt, Southend-on-Sea, Essex

Dedicated to God our Father in heaven. Thanks be to God.

Born in Westcliff-on-Sea, Fred Ablitt has interests including writing and fishing. “I started writing poetry in the late 1990’s due to sudden inspiration,” he explained. “My work is influenced by anything and everything around me, and I feel that I have a deep imagination. My style is uncomplicated, free and easy. A lot of my work is inspired by my belief in God.” Aged 46, Fred works as a plumber and has an ambition for his poetry to be enjoyed by all people worldwide. He is married to Julie and has written hundreds of poems. “At the moment I am writing a book about three angels with attitude,” he added. “Last July I achieved one of my biggest ambitions when I received a letter from the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, expressing her majesty’s appreciation of one of my poems."

BIG BOYS BIG BUCKS

Big boys threatened our mother
To rip out her heart and steal her space, again.
I had to stop them. I had to try.

I pleaded with the planners to think about Mother Nature.
They looked at me strangely?
Who are you? They treated me with disdain.

The planners’ vision remained blinkered
Their hearing was selective
They opened their deaf ears to hear about money to be made.

I continued to plead.
“If you have to build new houses on that field please, oh please
Build the houses around the trees;
The trees have been here forever.”

Mother Nature, by her very essence, gives us oxygen,
The fresh air we take for granted, and we give them what they need.
We need one another. Could they not see that?

Once again a giant blow to our Mother Earth.
I’m so sorry, Mother. I did try. I’m always here for you.
Affectionately yours,
Sue

Sue Ellis, Finedon, Northamptonshire

Born in Surrey, Sue Ellis has interests including writing, music, singing and reading. “I started writing poetry in 1999 after having to give up work when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease,” she remarked. “My work is influenced by things I feel passionately about and I would describe my style as very passionate. I have written two novels in draft form and my ambition is to see them on bookstands. As well as my novels I have also written a children’s poetry book and hundreds of poems. My biggest fantasy is to sing on a big stage. The person I would most like to meet is Sir Richard Branson because I admire his positivity and humour.”

PECULIAR FEELINGS

I get a peculiar feeling
I see it in your eyes
That look of determination
As aggression starts to rise

You square up for a battle
Standing tall and mean
I’m cornered by your stature
This beating won’t be clean

Can I endure another thrashing?
Last time I was black and blue
You fractured my jawbone
Despite my love for you

My honour is at stake
I stand ready to defend
You strike the first cruel blow
Love’s tested to the end

Never mind the outcome
I’m yours, affectionately
With peculiar feelings, man for man
We’re gay boxers, you and me

Mary Wood, Hull, East Yorkshire

Mary Wood said: “All my poems have a glorious twist in the tale. Visit www.twistedhumour.co.uk to read up on my titles to date including Twisted Humour, Twisted Humour Unleashed and Twisted Humour Exposed, with more on the way. Published by UPSO Ltd, my books can be purchased online or ordered from your local bookshop. Be prepared, they carry a humour warning."

MORNING SONG

Ogres devour themselves at night, vanish with the dawn.
Awake, beloved, to a new day.
Feel the joy that’s borne on sunbeams streaming through the window
Tenderly tracing round the beauty of your face
And weaving golden highlights through your hair.

Listen to the jubilation of the birds.
With outstretched arms, my love, embrace the radiance of tomorrow.
Give me your hand, and with me stand
To greet the breeze now fanning through the distant trees,
Sweet breath of heaven sighing through my morning prayer.
Hear in the wind grown fresher, crisper
An answering ethereal whisper
Filtered through the cool spring air
Into our living world now born anew
A special promise,
Just
My love
For you.

Michael Shocket, Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire

Dr. Michael Shocket is the author of several text books published by Cambridge University Press, Know Me Tomorrow, published by United Press in 2004, and The Binding of Issac, published this year by Authors on Line. Both books are available through Amazon and the main bookstores. A number of his poems have appeared in various publications, and he is currently working on a new novel. His hobbies are painting and sculpture.

THE FIELD

There he stood
Tall and beautiful
His head turned to look
Me a stranger stood
Head down he grazed
I paused again
Thank you I said
My first love
Tall and beautiful
The horse
In the field by the wood
I was only three
He older than me
Yet he never forgets
And I not him
My first love in the field by the wood

Grace Hicks, Bude, Cornwall

Born in Bude, Grace Hicks interests include nature, birds and animals. “I started writing poetry after I lost my mother. The main reason I did it was to recall my youth and teenage years,” she explained. “My work is influenced by my memories and I would describe my style as natural. I would like to be remembered as a free spirit. Aged 70, I work as a psychic and I have an ambition to write more and win a top prize with my work.” Grace is married to Bill and they have three children. “I have written short stories and over 200 poems, many of which have been published,” added Grace.

GOLDEN YEARS

How can I choose words that describe
The fifty years since you became my bride?
The laughter, excitement and tears
We both shared, through the years
Can a man put words to love so real?
Love that all the time did fill.

Our children gave new life to our years
New dreams, hopes and fears.
Their children now give us new joy
Have brought us childish dreams to toy.
The fantasy of life to them
Brings our youth back again.

Our wedding day was written in the stars
So young so fit, so much in love
We knew that this must be
The only way of life, for you and me
Though now we wear the years of age
And time is writing our golden page
In the ink of life, the print of love
It will always be, you and I, my love.

Bernard Tucker, London

OLD FASHIONED LOVE

As you turn back the pages
You can see the happy years you’ve had before
Deeply satisfying a shared alliance
Comfortable challenging and sure
A lifetime of treasured family memories
You’ve nurtured, enhanced and life breathed
Into your relationship that is so priceless, so dear
To you both mutual desires achieved
Building on every foot a common ground
You have found every interest, every value, every goal
You have learned to compromise, to change, to grow
To develop in new directions as a whole
An old fashioned love the kind that lasts
Through the years, through the tears and trials
Through the hardship and the difficulties in life
Through the happiness, the joys and the smiles
In your maturity you can look back
At the marvellous years together so fond
Not always perfect but as one you have made it
A lasting emotional bond

Catherine Armstrong, Skegness, Lincolnshire

FRIENDS AND FLOWERS

Friends, when you feel low and things are upsetting your day,
Take a look at any of the flowers which are growing along the way,
They struggle through many hazards to give us lots of pleasure,
Snow, and gales, torrential rain, many changes in the weather.
But all of these small flowers are touched by God’s Almighty hand,
He lovingly placed them everywhere, over all the land.
Take courage when you see with what care He put in those
For our Saviour created you, my friends, as lovely as the rose.

Shirley Hall, Redditch, Worcestershire

CUPBOARD LOVE

Little grey lady, sitting in the park -
Weather permitting, she’ll be there till dark.
Every day she drags her food-laden trolley
and carries her lunch, cardi and brolly.
Squirrels sit next to her on the bench
and birds feed from her hand,
She regards them with affection and
thinks “oh ain’t life grand.’
People say they’re crafty, and that once
they’ve fed they will flee.
She nods and says, “I know that, but they’re
better company than thee.”
And in her lonely mind she sends her thanks
to the Lord up above,
Because if you can’t have the real thing
What’s wrong with cupboard love.

Susan Carslake, Colchester, Essex

DEAR MIRA

Yours was quite a lovely letter
But I do know better
It’s not presents which cost money
That show love and affection
But the acceptance you have shown me
As a member of your small family.
You have not treated me as a geriatric of ninety-three
I’m alone in this world
Nobody belongs to me.
I’m proud of you, Mira
Alone you have brought up
Two exceptional boys
Who will go far.
And always I wish
I could still be here, to see.
But I fear I am old.
Never mind, do not worry
I’ve had a good run.

Stella Mann, London

DEAR MAJESTY

Dear Majesty, your Royal Highness.
Thank you for serving us all your days.
You don’t half take some stick from Joe Public.
But hey, you don’t half bounce back either.

You represent our country well.
We Brits have true grit,
And smile on through whatever happens.
Worst thing we do is complain about the weather.

You’re always there at the helm of our tiny ship,
Guiding us through the stormy seas.
Of war, big powers,
And foreign shores.

Presidents and foreign dignitaries.
Bathe in your delightful glow.
That secret smile, that oozes from
The corners of one’s lips.
The blue eyes hide the secrets that you know.
And all the while you wave.

J Anderson, Cockburnspath, Scotland

THE WALL

“Something there is,” wrote Frost
“That doesn’t like a wall.”
That undermines it, shifting its base
Causing the topmost stones to fall
And subtly nudge its foundation
This way then that, so the line is lost.

As more stones tumble down
From top and sides to the ground
Gaps appear and sheep escape.
Leaping the ruin with blithe abandon
Some scrambling, joyously race,
Scattering the stones before and behind.
Fleeing the safety of their field
For the ever greener unknown.

Margaret Duguid, Skewen, Wales

ODE TO SYMI

Oh what a haven
of delight

All my senses
are alight

To be in Symi
once again

To marvel at
the blue Aegean

To walk the steep
steps and alleyways

To carouse the
bars and cafes,

Oh shall I ever
get back again

To see my love
in the blue Aegean?

Kenn Norris, Newtownabbey, Northern Ireland

PEBBLE

Stone so smooth
Weathered by force

You were there
Before me desolate
On the sand of time
You were never mine

I place you back to
Take the weight

Becoming once more
Of time and tide
Never to be mine

Marj Kurthausen, West Kirby, Merseyside

ZAK

Zak is our roguish, nondescript mongrel dog
Part collie, springer, Poodle, even warthog
He’s friendly, fussy and full of fun
Busy and bouncy, boys’ hearts he’s won

We curb his only lust, a chocoholic
Gazza, do you want a football frolic?
Wouldn’t win prizes, or trophies at Cruft’s
A disobedient hound with unruly tufts

Once ran amok in our memorial grounds
Hates motorbikes and their exhaustive sounds
When lost, lads found him biting tyres
Watches Rolf Harris’s stars and admires

Wouldn’t swap him for any other
Pedigree perfections, not my taste, why bother?
A faithful, comical companion, full of zest
In my eyes he’s simply the best

Jennifer Hudson, Stocksbridge, South Yorkshire

SET IN STONE

I often think back to that very first night
As I suppose newlyweds are supposed to do.
Me lying there beneath virgin sheets, watching you
Writing furiously at the desk by the moon’s exotic light.
When I awoke the next morning my eye was drawn
To a rolled up ball of paper, perched on the edge, as
We both were. I spied the occasional I and you but no
Words of love had made it through the dawn.
You never attempted poetry again
Though a quiet room in my heart secretly hoped that
One day you would force open its door and I would
Read an unfamiliar refrain.
Now you lie beside me, cold.
Not even sunlight can dazzle the worthy legend,
Carved on the shared stone above us.
On that very first night, I began to feel old.

Mark Rasdall, Ely, Cambridgeshire

I ONLY THINK OF YOU

I only think of you,
I think of you when the
Rising sun peeps through
The eastern sky.

I think of you,
When the setting sun
Casts a melancholy shadow
In the corner of my mind.

I sit here in the verandah,
Banana plants sway to and fro,
Crows fly past the houses,
I do nothing but think of you.

Deep in the night, when the city sleeps,
When even the stars want to retire,
I keep awake,
And I think of you.

Yesterday, today, then, now.
Every sweet moment, every long hour,
I only think of you.
Do you ever think of me?

Lily Bhattacharya, London

THE TEXT MESSAGE

The news was as expected,
I’m very calm you see.
I would have liked remission,
But it wasn’t meant to be.
I thought of one last meeting
Before I went away.
But you would plead and argue
The reasons why I should stay.
And so this my final journey,
The bell for me now tolls.
And though the waves divide our flesh,
The stars unite our souls.

Ruth Hayes, Southport, Merseyside

MY DEAR CHILD

Tenderly I kiss your brow as you softly sleep
And the moonbeams catch your dreams, as watch over you they keep.
The night clouds chase shadows across your tiny face
As you lie beneath the coverlet with all your toys in place.
Maybe you’ll be an astronaut, train driver, or a vet,
Maybe you’ll travel distant lands, where some have no chance to get.
But whatever path in life you take, no matter what you do
I will help you all I can, and I’ll be there for you.
For you mean the world to me and I will watch you grow,
So sleep softly child, for I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Jan Imeson, Allington, Lincolnshire

HIRAETH

I feel her close, when she’s not near.
Like a foreign presence from distant lands.
Scent of perfume, on the breeze of my imagination,
Wonderful and exotic.
Want to walk with her through the redwood grove,
A place where my ancestors lived.
Paying homage to the Celtic spirit with our love.
Toss a picnic blanket on the grass for us to sit,
And hold each other gently, in silence,
Becoming aware of the sensitivity of touch.
The gentle strains of birdsong up above
Sensation of passion coursing through our veins.
In a world where two hearts beat as one.

M J Charles, Welshpool, Wales

ALL OF ME I GIVE TO YOU

It is time that I was honest with you
It is time that I was honest with me
I have struggled with the issue of commitment
To give myself completely.

For a long time I held back,
It was the fear of letting go.
I didn’t want to give certain things up,
It’s easy to stick to what you know.

But one day the reality struck me,
In giving up me, it’s you I gain,
I tried and found, you make me whole
So here’s my heart, there you can reign.

Though some things are still uncertain
I am certain your unfailing love is true.
So now I’m trusting you with my life,
Now I surrender my all to you.

Sharoné Benjamin, Tottenham, Greater London

GUARDIAN ANGEL

I know you are there, I can feel your warm breath on my neck
Your arms enveloping me with tender love and care
You are my saviour, the only constant thing in my life
With you I stand tall, braving the world with hope and
optimism
You never fail me

Because of you my soul feels alive; nourished by your
Undying love, I have the capacity to achieve greater
things. Without you I am bereft; like a tree in winter
I feel naked and forlorn

Your unspoken love speaks a thousand words
I wish I could see your face and behold the eyes of
My angel
Since I cannot, I am as ever eternally grateful and
Affectionately yours

Emma Kinghorn, Aldershot, Hampshire

OUR GOLDEN YEARS

Just celebrated fifty years
Of so called married bliss
It only seems like yesterday
We sealed it with a kiss.
We have a great family
Children, we have four.
They are all married now,
We have grandchildren galore,
We just hadn’t noticed
The way the years did pass
The only time we really know
Is when we look in the glass.
The reflections we get back
Don’t seem to be each other
My husband looks at me and says
“You look just like your mother.”

Joan Faithful, London, Greater London

LETTER FROM ABROAD

Remember when, like lizards
We panted in the shade of rocks.
Since you have gone
There has been a noticeable chill.
The sun worshippers have fled north
Taking their lotion-laved, metamorphosed lobster bodies.
The beach is deserted,
Wading birds practise ballet steps in the spent surf.
The plaza empty,
Coke cans congregate in the empty fountain.
A cold wind sweeps down from the Sierras
Rattling shutters, sending Carmen tut-tutting
Over her fractious cooking fire.
Now when snow flurries cloud the Alhambra
Olive pickers dot the hillsides.
Their green plastic nets
Gather last summer’s sunshine
Condensed into a cold liquid gold.
I feel a deeper cold, now you have gone
Now you have gone.

William Eslick, Isle of Cumbrae, Scotland

BEAUTY THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD

Oh to see through the eyes of a child
Beauty is within
If we could decide what we wanted in life
And believe as children do is no sin

After dressing this morning with care
My grandson said to me
“You’re beautiful today Gran,
The way you should be”

When a seven-year-old gives compliments
You feel chuffed
They don’t mince words
You must not feel huffed

James may have been kind to me
Not so his mam’s friend
He said her hair was a raggy mess
Our scissors she could lend

I think I would rather be told
How I look by a child
I’m more likely to believe him
Only a child would speak so wild

Hazel Pringle, Chester-le-Street, County Durham

DAMNED IN DIAMOND MINDS

Rooms gyrating turning in whispers of pain radiating upon the
Textile tourniquet as withered soldiers vent and river in
Prehistoric chalices of rich ridden reapers sailing sound
And profound against the winter’s salutations supported and
Addressed in Cambridge chapels alive and alleviated to
Consume there the radical omniscience
Loosely chained in Dorchester Matriarchs as fire fusion
Thrusts to force the entity that shunters upon the open
Green of razor flowers all damned before the skeleton gates
And saturated against the fused fruition of gutter remissions
And sun timed confessions within the shameful derision
That captures the gesticulation upon the chalice of broken
Clergy and the rapture of manic mechanics

Meleeze Zenda, St Helens, Merseyside

GARDEN OF PRAYER

I often visit
The garden of prayer,
Physically,
Or imagine I’m there.

Breathing in peace,
And calm of the air,
A secret blessing,
Awaits for me there.

Pauline Y Whitworth, Wigan, Greater Manchester

YOU CAPTURED MY HEART

I looked into your eyes that’s all that it took
You captured my heart with just one look
Your tender kiss is passionate, soft and warm
You are sensitive, loving and so full of charm
Once you called me an angel
You have come to know me so well
I could not hurt, and never would hurt you
I also know your heart is pure and true
I want to show you how I feel
A love for you so very real

Sheila Bradley, Hull, East Yorkshire

THE SEA WITHIN ME

To the sea I say with warm affection, what a wondrous
thing you are! Earth’s beautiful blue mantle, swirling in
frolicking winds delicately scented by many lands.
In your depths lie mystic coral forests, remote as distant
moons, where silvery fish dart over long-lost gold coins,
man’s tiny mirrors, reflecting nature’s glory. You embrace
frozen islands, where sunlit ice crystals blaze in the
enchanted fire of intense cold, enfolding themselves
in multicoloured beauty. You are nocturnal tropical waters,
aglow with phosphorescent fire, and spangled with exotic
jellyfish, living chandeliers with dimmed lights, gently
treading the caressing waters of the twilit deep.
You flourish mountainous waves, avalanches of molten snow,
that maybe started in Alps or Himalayas and
worked their passage into warmer waters. You are
power and gentleness in a perfect eternal balance.
You were indeed, o sea, a fitting place for life’s
first dawn, and I, as one of your grateful
descendants, salute you!

Stuart McEwen, Denton, Greater Manchester

Stuart McEwen said: “I am a retired analytical chemist, mainly engaged in outdoor activities, but also interested in two art forms - painting (I display my work in local exhibitions) and writing. I have written two plays which have been performed on the amateur stage, but most of my writing has been confined to scientific papers. I have, however, written a few poems and several hymns as a hobby. I am a member of the Society of Authors.”

LOOKING FORWARD

In this world of dark despair
Some go along without a care
What is happening we know is not fair
But who are we, a few that care
When you see flowers in all their glory
That is the beginning of the story
It’s mankind where it all began
It’s the way that’s planned by man
If we were to look at wonders around
For nature’s a mystery to be found
There’s the global warming, a big concern
What’s going to happen if this is ignored
A sound future for young and old
We must get together, do our best
It is important to make a move fast if the world is to last
For all the wonders of the world we care
Wildlife all around we must save
To ignore these would be a shame
Come on everybody, play the game

Nellie Weaver, Doncaster, South Yorkshire

WINTER VIGIL

I feel so cold standing in the snow
As cold as ice when I hear the wind blow
I stand there alone through a snowy night
In the dawn sun I look quite white
When morning arrives the children come to play
Throwing snowballs at me before I run away
The heat of the sun makes me disappear
But where I have gone to isn’t very clear
My scarf and my hat lying on the ground
Give no clue as to where I can be found

Stuart Bunting, Wilmorton, Derbyshire

FOND MEMORIES

Those wonderful steam trains rolling down the track,
Taking us on holiday and to later bring us back.
The excitement of the journey, travelling so far,
Listening to the poetry of diddly dee diddly dar.
As children we were thrilled with its unique motion,
Many collected numbers with train spotting devotion.
Little boys dreamed of when they’d soon be grown,
So they might drive a train they could consider their own.
Diddly dee, diddly dee, diddly dee and diddly dar,
Rolling from side to side as we travelled so far.
People on the bridges waved to us as we flew by,
The smoke from the engine rising to the sky.
“The Flying Scot” a favourite all would want to see,
In the days of the steam trains that once thrilled me.

Diane Ireland, Sutton Coldfield, West Midlands

FIND LOVE AND LET US CUDDLE THROUGH THE NIGHT

Warm smiles to mollify before we fight,
In pleasure we know that we’d find our way,
Find love and let us cuddle through the night.

And like many a moth held by your light,
We have found a little good every day,
Warm smiles to mollify before we fight.

The hottest urges you always ignite,
Every decision with ease you could sway,
Find love and let us cuddle through the night.

Your beauty scotched the past with rare delight,
“Made it Ma, top of the world,” all that day,
Warm smiles to mollify before we fight.

Superior carriage drifted through my sight,
Upon the tricky scales of love to weigh,
Find love and let us cuddle through the night.

I spend all my days basking in your light,
Whenever the usual tensions play,
Warm smiles to mollify before we fight;
Find love and let us cuddle through the night.

David Turner, Ledbury, Herefordshire

YOUNG ONE

Come to me, my little one.
I’ll cradle you while you are young.
I will wipe away your tears
And cast aside all your fears.
As you grow I’ll hold your hand
And help you learn to understand
Pick you up when you fall down
Make you laugh like a clown.
Through the years I’ll fondly watch you grow
And slowly learn to let you go
As you mature day by day
Piece by piece you’ll move away.
You’ll need me less as years go by
And learn to wipe your own tears dry
But here is where I’ll always be
Whenever you want to share with me
So for now, my little one.
Before our time is past and gone,
I will comfort you while you are young.

Martine Gafney, Kentish Town, Greater London

MISSING YOU

You listened to me when I felt sad,
You laughed with me when I felt glad,
And now you’re gone I miss you so
Why did you leave, why did you go?

When I go to bed and try to sleep,
So many thoughts make me weep.
Why did you promise not to leave?
Making me angry, making me grieve.

Whatever they say, whatever they do,
Words are wasted, none are true.
I can’t believe I’m all alone,
Left by myself in the place they call home.

Standing here at the foot of the bed,
I remember words I could have said.
“ Kiss me,” was all you managed to say,
I gave you the kiss and walked away.

Betty Allison, Durham, County Durham

REQUEST

Aunt Maud when you read this letter, please don’t think ill of me
You know I’d only ask for help if needed desperately
For several months life’s been a mess and I’m struggling now to cope
I broke my back, have been off work, quite frankly now I’m broke
The bank’s been understanding, the mortgage people too
But won’t hold off forever which is why I’ve turned to you
The insurance firm should pay out but I really don’t know when
Do you think I could beg a loan to tide me until then?
I hope you’ll think of me kindly and consider my request
I promise to pay you back in full including interest
I’ll anxiously wait for your reply and hope it will be quick
Take care and thanks for listening, Affectionately yours, Young Rick

Jean Shaw, Ely, Cambridgeshire

Jean Shaw said: “I am 50, married to Malcolm and mother to Daryl and Jodi. I have written two books about my youngest son who has autism, entitled I’m Not Naughty - I’m Autistic - Jodi’s Journey, and Autism, Amalgam and Me - Jodi’s Journey Continues. I enjoy writing poetry and specialise in personalised poems. Examples of my work can be found at www.jeanspersonalisedpoems.co.uk.”

THE LETTER

How do I end this letter to you?
“With love,” I suppose that will do.
Somehow though it doesn’t quite express
What I really want it to.

“Yours sincerely,” says so much
Yet it seems too formal between us.
“Yours faithfully,” is truly meant
To you my extra special gent.

“Yours truly,” yet another form,
Expressing meaning very warm.
All these options too much choice,
Not really summing up this voice.

I need to say our love still soars,
So I’ll end this now, “Affectionately yours.”

Patricia Phillips, Henley-in-Arden, Warwickshire

Dedicated to my soul mate, my late husband, Charles.

PELVIC CRACK

Cobbles, kerbs, crushed concrete squares
Curved chipped steps
Magnets to catch one unawares
Surviving all, then came her fall
Crinkled carpet in the Albert Hall

Alethea Watterson, Basingstoke, Hampshire

CALLING ALL ANGELS

I call the angels, but they do not hear
They know of my sorrow and of my fear
I am sure that they all see my tears

Calling all angels, all lines are engaged
There is no answer phone, I cannot even page
This long distance call, to so high above
There is no recall, from the one I love

Calling all angels, I beg of you please
Cannot, you see, me on bended knee

Calling all angels, hear the clock chime
Can you not turn back time
Into the past is where I belong
To be with my true love
I am so forlorn

Calling all angels, please hear my prayer
For someone to love me, for someone to care

Calling all angels, what have I done that is so wrong
For me, nowhere to belong

Maggie Robertson, Beckenham, Kent

FRIEND

A friend is someone that you trust
Someone to confide in when things seem unjust

A friend is someone that you can talk to when you’re down
Who will listen but sometimes give a frown

They will always be there even if you leave the path and go astray
They will help you back put you on your way

In times of trouble and of pain
Your friend will be there time and time again

When things are going smoothly a friendship you should defend
You never know one day you might need to be a friend

Tony Skeels, Wisbech, Cambridgeshire

LETTER FROM THE HEART

To my dearest friend,
Why did this friendship have to end?
I was talking to the Lord above,
With best wishes, should have been with love.
I miss you more and more each day,
Since you moved and went away.
My life is in such a mess,
But I know that I can count on you to bless,
My shortcomings and my fears,
As you stood by me for many years.

But now you’re gone, our lives have parted
And I am left broken-hearted.
I’d imagine walking with you, hand in hand,
As waves washed our feet upon silvery sand.

To love someone is such a precious thing,
It makes your heart glad, it makes your heart sing.
And so to my dearest friend,
With best wishes, should be the end,
But as I still talk to Him up above,
I shall end this letter, with love, my love.

Isobel Burks, Kettering, Northamptonshire

THE NEW BEGINNING

If I could reach out
My arms across the world
There would be a new beginning
For each of us to share

No war-torn skies of hatred
Famine, grief or strife
No-one shall ever walk alone
Nor fear the darkest night

I would call upon the nations
To lay down arms of war
And live as brothers and sisters
United into one

The dumb would speak
The blind will see
The rich shall feed the poor
And all living life upon the earth
Shall see a new tomorrow

Jim Carlin, Barnstaple, Devon

LAST TRAIN BACK

Discarded lives
Litter compartments like autumnal leaves.
The engine rattles on,
Machine-gunning tomorrow's horizon.

Surrounded by sleeping strangers,
I recall earlier summers,
Warm as welcoming waves in the Gulf,
Shadows shiver on the sea's shimmering silvery shelf.

As Somerset, Devon and Cornwall rumble past,
The rocking rhythm's like your love, slow and fast
Carrying me on to your perfect haven,
Kissed by your crying into approaching heaven.

I look out on glittering galaxies of cities,
Peopled by ghosts of drowned humanities.
We ramble on by black skeletons of trees,
Thinned like parades of mainlining junkies.

Leaving London, I head for home, abolishing boundaries
Between love and life.
This wind is wicked as a flick-knife.
Only you will take my heart out of the deep-freeze.

Roland Gurney, Newmill, Cornwall

LEAVING MINNESOTA

There is a dying fall
To this last morning.
We have said our farewells
As best we can,
Knowing it will be many months,
Or even years, before we meet again.
We have hugged and held,
And said the usual words,
No less meant for being unoriginal,
And now we stand
Watching the falling leaves,
Waiting for the final call,
And wondering which of us
Will be the first to fall.

Anne Shimwell, Bakewell, Derbyshire

SUDDENLY

Suddenly, without warning,
the texture of my skin seemed coarser,
less sensitive to touch, less supple.
Suddenly the laugh lines
etched deeply on my face
appeared, reflected, more like frowns.
Suddenly, without warning,
my flaxen hair revealed itself more tinged with grey,
less smooth
less tactile.
Suddenly a springtime stroll
became a marathon,
fraught with repercussions,
beset with aches and pains.
Then suddenly, without warning,
you smiled.
My frown lines faded,
And I remembered us.

Leon Rafnson, Dukinfield, Cheshire

THERE WAS A TIME

There was a time you called my dearest love,
And brought me gifts of scented wax and silk
Embroidered sheets in which we lay entwined
Intoxicated as we wined and dined.

There was a time you called me words obscene
I offered food of love which you spat out
Unable to digest my soup of dreams
You vomited a lifetime's hopes and schemes

There was a time we dined on different fare,
Sunk in the milksop, slippered gruel and mash,
Days bickering the tedious time ahead,
Drugged on a time of tea and toasted bread.

Now you are gone, how shall I say goodbye?
Remembrance sweet and bitter in my mouth,
Undying love would seem to be too strong
Affectionately yours a sweeter song.

Doreen Hodgkinson, Eastbourne, Sussex

ONE LOVELY DAY

Once you gave me sweet songs to sing,
An open chest of love and touches of hair;
You were a piper, stringing mountain melodies,
The sounds flying above this urban mass
(The streets paved like a worn chessboard)
But sensing warm seas and yellow sands,
Fancies and whims and pranks of joy;
The arcing rainbow blessed us.

In a winter town remote, westerly
I caught the last long vista,
The desert of unfulfilled fantasy,
A red sun's closing doors,
Stubborn ivy and persistent thorn,
The henbane of parting and goodbye.

The bare windows darken into night;
There is no answer, save a closing gate,
The chilly clang startling the ravens
Croaking on a bleak roof-tree.

John Christopher Evans, Swansea, Wales

© Terry Thornton - 2006-2008 United Press Ltd