| Dazzled by the Moon |
The title of this book was inspired by a very poetic quotation. As soon as I saw that quotation, I was struck by its poignancy.
I'm an avid writer of poetry myself, and when I gaze at the beauty of a bright moon on a cool, clear night, I'm always struck by its magnificence and majesty. Sometimes I'm even inspired to wax poetic, and I'm sure the moon has, throughout the ages had the same effect on millions of people.
Throughout the history of man, the moon has been the inspiration for poets, musicians and artists in all forms of creativity.
And the poets brought together in this collection all display that same gift for expressiveness. Their work is put together in this collection for your entertainment and edification. We sincerely hope that you find something from these pages to dazzle your imagination.
Some of the poets have allowed us to include a short biography giving details about themselves and their poetry.
YOU
You are always there for me
To wipe away my tears
You are always there for me
To gently calm my fears
You have been my steady rock
Throughout my turbulent life
You have been the one I’ve called on
Through trouble and through strife
You have never forsaken me
Even when I’ve lost my way
You have never judged me
When I’ve been tempted to stray
You have been my mainstay
Through all my black despair
I would like to thank you God
For always being there
Dorothy Robb, Edinburgh, Scotland
JUST FOR YOU
Just for you I wake up,
Earlier than I should.
Clear the cinders, light the fire,
Go and fetch some wood.
Just for you, I warm your clothes,
So you won’t catch a chill.
Make some toast, then make some more,
Until you’ve had your fill.
Just for you, I slow down,
When I’m already late.
Stick a plaster to your knee,
Kiss you, the rest can wait.
Just for you, my world goes round,
I love you more each day.
Your little nose, your wild hair,
The gentle games you play.
Just for me, you save a smile,
And hug me ’till I glow.
You give me love without restraint,
My love you’ll always know.
Bobbi Vetter, Dollar, Scotland
To my mum, the one who did it all “just for me”.
THE HEART’S DOOR
There is a door
Which leads to life,
Without a lock or key
As I wait and knock on it
Will you open it for me?
The handle’s on the inside,
So the choice is yours alone,
I will not force my love on you
But I want you for my own.
I’ll give you peace and joy untold,
And with a cloak of love unfold,
Then forever you will be
Living with me in eternity.
Dorrie Cowburgh, Barnton, Cheshire
SUMMER SERENADE
Between the pale
Poetry
Of English flowers
A crimson petal
Falls
Reflected in your eyes
And the nightingale
Folding
Wings in showers
Sprinkles notes
Impromptu
From a wire
Miraged ardour
Musing
Nothing more
Chris Williams, Urmston, Greater Manchester
Chris Williams said: “From poetry to lyrics, songwriter to singer. Hear
the original Belfast Boy first published by UP Ltd in A Passion for Poetry.
Listen to a contemporary jazz-ballad recall the glory days of famous
footballer - Georgie Best of Manchester United FC. Recorded for all time,
for you and posterity. Available at £5 per CD including p&p, from 2 Turner
Drive, Urmston, Manchester, M41 9RA.”
DONATION
Where do you start?
With a broken heart.
Eight weeks to live,
So much to give.
Forever in your debt,
Someone I’ve never met.
In a place where few people go.
You made a decision that mankind should know.
In your moment of greatest despair,
When your life just seems so unfair
You made the ultimate sacrifice
You gave my child the chance of life.
Words will never express my gratitude,
Nor your family’s unselfish attitude.
I’ve never met you. I don’t know who you are,
But in my family you are our guiding star.
Your child forever an angel up above
My child filled to the brim with all their love.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart
Because you gave my child the perfect start.
Bridget Evans, Wavertree, Liverpool, Merseyside
Dedicated to the family who donated their child’s organs for transplant.
Words will never express my gratitude.
TRANSFORMATION
Flickering candlelight transforms
The plain white wall into one huge live screen.
That strange elongated shadow
Claims that there is a marauding tiger
Just waiting for the right moment.
We recognise signs immediately,
A hunter stalking his small prey.
The light plays tricks as shadows move around.
Stretching out, yawning, you strike fear
Into those who gaze transfixed by the wall.
Sudden movement, we watch you pounce.
Brightness floods the room as light is switched on,
The magic of the moment lost.
Shadow show over we can all relax.
The marauding tiger has left.
Reality takes over to reveal
Just another cat and mouse game.
Angela Pritchard, Sandbach, Cheshire
FLASHBACK
A ten-year-old memory decided to call
Was he smart and just as tall
Flashy car with girlfriends in plenty
Things were so good, a full inventory
Life was great, just having a ball
He was so sure
That he knew it all
A ten second memory just crashed in
Shrunken now and so terribly thin
Flashy car and all girls gone
Where on earth did it all go wrong?
He thought that he would run, not crawl
Now I know
He knew nothing at all
Harry Mazza, Leeds, West Yorkshire
THE FADING MIND
Look through the window,
The thoughts run free,
Searching the mind
For that one memory.
Sifting and sorting,
Recollections gone by,
To see them again
With a different eye.
Look through the window,
His mind’s fading fast,
Taking him back
To the distant past.
Doris Green, Darlington, County Durham
INDIVIDUALITY
“Go into our library. Study anatomy enabling you
to paint rounded.”
The same teacher said to my brother.
“Study music then you might paint lyrically
Like your sister.”
The younger students, though quite professional, lacked style.
Institutions, produce robots and Siamese twins,
said the inner voice within me.
Jennifer Hudson, Stocksbridge, South Yorkshire
ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER PLACE
Another time, another place,
Another body, another face.
Explains away the déjà vu,
Sometime, somewhere, another you.
Perhaps I was in a previous life,
A mighty warrior, a sultan’s wife.
I know that I have been here before,
Through other eyes same scenes I saw.
How else could anyone explain
I was never here, but I’m back again?
Familiar though these things may be,
The truth is, they are new to me.
So another time, another place,
Another body, yes, another face.
Could look upon this world I’ve seen,
Perhaps knows me now, or who I’ve been?
Mary Howcroft, Brecon, Wales
RHAPSODY IN PRAYER
Make me a melody,
titillate my senses,
instill in me ecstacy,
ravage my soul.
Make me endure
the naked flame,
the exquisite torture
of unrequited passion.
Make me to dance
in gay abandon,
gathering garlands
to place at your feet.
Make me a casket
of the world’s tears,
a fountain of healing,
a pathway of peace,
the sacrifice complete.
Beryl Johnson, Cambridge, Cambridgeshire
MEDUSA
Beautiful princess of Libya
How they berate you
Now, frozen in time
As the snake-haired beast
Who turned men to stone.
They didn’t know you at all.
Princess medusa, how I weep
For the misunderstanding
That imprisons you, alone.
Like me.
I can see your spirit
Glowing like snow
Am I the only one who hears your cries
Of injustice?
My magnificent medusa.
Sleep well.
Belinda Budgen, Ipswich, Suffolk
BE MINE
Let me look into your eyes
To find the road to Paradise
And seek the ultimate surprise
Hot as fire, or cold as ice
How eagerly I try to please
To still your taunts that never cease
But passion haunts me as you tease
Please grant me merciful release
Your harsh unfeeling friends suppose
My urgent, raging passion gross
But still your vibrant body glows
Be gentle, loving, kind and close
Donald Turner, Sleaford, Lincolnshire
LOST LOVE
Oh my darling I do miss you
Since you passed away
For I did love you in a very special way
My heart is now broken and there’s nothing I can do.
For all I have left are the memories, the memories of you.
So to God in Heaven I will say a little prayer
Please Lord save a place for me
Next to my love up there.
Robin Morgan, Wainfleet St Marys, Lincolnshire
MUM
She says black
I say white
She says no
I say yes
You can’t wear that
Yes I can
He’s no good
I love him
When she spoke
I should have listened
She was right
I was wrong
Now I’m a mother
The lessons have been learnt
I say black
And she agrees
Margaret Darrington, Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire
CHILDLESS MOTHER
I will never be able to watch you take your first tentative steps,
Or hear the first of your long awaiting words.
I will never be able to share with you the magic of bedtime stories,
Or comfort you from your nightmares.
I will never be able to see you ride your first bike,
Or ease the pain of cuts and grazes if you should fall.
I will never be able to enjoy you playing in the golden summer sun,
Or nurse you back to health when you are sick.
I will never be able to witness you leaving for your first date,
Or pick up the pieces of a broken heart.
I will never be able to listen to your hopes and dreams,
Or wipe away your flow of tears and ease your fears.
I will never be able to show you just how much I care,
Or tell you I love you with all of my heart.
Priscilla Clayton, Birmingham, West Midlands
THOSE CAREFREE DAYS
What happened to the young lads who whistled away
As they cycled miles to work each day?
And the girls who blushed a pretty shade
When wolf whistled as their journeys they made?
I remember the lamplighter on his bike
How at dusk he arrived to switch on the lights,
In autumn the Scottish fisher girls we watched
As they sorted the herrings when they arrived in the smacks.
Entertainment was simple, no television then
Church on Sundays, then picking wild flowers in the glen.
Those fresh faced lads to war were sent
To fight for their country, that’s where they went,
Those who died were buried where they fell
And those who returned had sad stories to tell.
Those carefree days had gone forever
When as children we played in fields of clover.
Times have changed, nothing ever stays the same
Those carefree days will never return again.
Mollie Carter, Burton-on-Trent, Staffordshire
WHISPERS
The last time I saw you I wore my watch,
Which has since been lost:
Lost - then stolen.
Now and then I think of the two of you
Clasped to someone else’s arm,
As once you both clasped mine;
And only now do I hear the whispers of alarm:
“Tick-tock, tick-tock, we haven’t got much time.”
Simon Gunter, Rugby, Warwickshire
LUCY
She has a golden quilt,
the child who cannot play,
it shimmers like the sunshine
on a bright summer’s day.
Small hands gently resting,
pale fingers softly furled,
lovely brown eyes gazing
on a curious crowded world.
On all those busy grown-ups,
who find the time to spare,
to stroke her arm and say kind
words, to show they really care.
Dark hair flows on her pillow,
while her mother’s tender touch,
brings cheer and consolation
to a girl who needs so much.
Though she’ll never run or skip,
or dance the night away,
she’s wrapped up in a quilt of love,
the child who cannot play.
Sonja F Mills, Redditch, Worcestershire
THE LAST TIME
Shadows of yesterday slip slowly through the door
Taking their memories on the way
I’m searching for light to shine on me before I go,
But giving up is giving in.
Enter my dreams tonight, and fill me with your love
Bring me laughter in my sleep
Take away the emptiness, the cold I fell within,
Give me warmth and give me hope.
Sometimes I’m helpless, but the morning seems to know -
The day it brings is like newborn spring.
The life I lead is so much more than just one show,
It’s the first night and the last night alone with you.
Paul Harris, Solihull, West Midlands
TAKE CARE
Take care my lovely man
When I am no longer there
To hold your hand
Just remember
The tender moments we shared
The deepest love, the joy, such care
I’ll always be with you
Today and forever
For memories blessed like ours
Will live forever.
Joan Kernick, Newton Abbot, Devon
For husband Walter and sons Mark and Stephen, if unforseen circumstances
mean we temporarily part.
THE LONELY MAN
In the stillness silence shouting
Lonely is the lonely man,
Friendless, cheerless, days the same
Each reflecting yesterday
People passing smiling laughing
Each a life with happiness found
Darkness to come, a friend to enfold him
Till the cold light of day lays his lonely heart bare
Pity the lonely with nothing to cling to
Memories maybe but dim in the past
A past of remembering
A present of longing
A future of loneliness still yet to come
Jimima Shaw, Poole, Dorset
THE BALLAD SINGER
You had a penchant for singing ballads
About love, sometimes unrequited
Love with its mysteries and joy
Fingertips touch with the grace of a falling snowflake
Electricity across a room flows between the strangers gaze
How we love so well the sad songs
Emotion brimming over
Romance will never die
Gail Whitson, Exeter, Devon
FRIENDSHIP
Friendship is a gift to be constantly treasured,
Its vastness cannot be always measured
Like cloth on a roll in a shop.
Through laughter and tears and deep understanding
Friendship and love are never demanding.
As a newborn baby is to its mother.
Rely on a friend when life is grim
Friendship stands firm through thick and thin.
A sympathetic ear is all that is needed.
If you have a friendship secure and strong
Which lifts the mind and heart along,
Like the gentle breeze we cannot see
But feel it passing from tree to tree.
Be thankful that life has given you friends,
To have and to hold till your journey ends.
Ruth Rowland, Weymouth, Dorset
Ruth Rowland said: “I was born in Whitley, in the West Riding of Yorkshire,
one of a large family whose home was full of music and poetry. I qualified
as an elocutionist and I have London poetry society qualifications. I
give talks on poetry to WI’s, church organisations and secular groups.
I have had many poems published in magazines and books. I thank God for
my talent and the ability to use it.”
TO MY FATHER
The inevitable dark deep-shaped sleep
Shown to us through nature’s constancy
Year after year, is known by her.
Earth hollows, humus filled, distills
The season’s leavening, empties out
The moments and all contingencies;
Explains the illusion.
Yet, when that one sleep comes,
Closing the sight forever
Upon a wintering world,
Frost clear, in particles of ice,
Tears as icicles stab us.
Stilled, we are taken unawares
Are robbed of the mourning black
Through lack of contact.
Isolated,
We cannot share the common grief.
Then stone.
Cold stone of heart defines, how brief
Is time; how far the morning star.
Janine Vallor, Bridport, Dorset
MY JOHN
He tried to prepare me
with all of his meetings
A grass widow I was
but now it’s for real
And oh how I miss
all his homecoming greetings
For forty years true married love
was the deal.
He worked hard for others
but this was his pleasure
And never was tempted
to feather his nest
He stood fast against this
was always his own man
Gaining respect, when put
to the test.
Thelma Town-Clear, Aldershot, Hampshire
JESUS
They crucified my Saviour.
They nailed him to a tree.
He hung and suffered, bled and died,
He did it all, in love for me.
They mocked and scoffed and spat on Him,
As He hung in agony and pain,
They shouted loud, “If thou be Christ,
Come down, your life to gain.”
He could have saved himself the torment,
But where and what would I now be?
For He stayed and gave himself as ransom,
So that I can now be free,
He knew what lay before Him,
Whence from Heaven he did depart,
To give his life, that I may live
What love, my Saviour. How great thou art.
Phyllis Cole, Oxford, Oxfordshire
COUSIN CLAUDE
When we were children
You made us laugh.
You moved around troubles
With compassion and laughter,
Where others could only cry.
You were kind: Beyond the limits
Others would go.
Because you were down-to-earth
and direct,
Not everybody noticed -
You were a hero.
Geoffrey Martin, Bletchley, Buckinghamshire
PAST MEMORIES
My dearest dad you will never know
Just how much I miss you so
You were always there for me
Advising me in my times of adversity
You were so wise it’s very true
We all thought the world of you
Your heart of gold was there for all to see
Looking back, it seems somethings are not meant to be
I shall always remember you with love in my heart
For the happy times we shared, all things apart
Of my growing up over the years
For all the times of my laughter and tears
But now the Lord has taken you home to rest
I shall always remember you as one of the best
Enid Skelton, Luton, Bedfordshire
AN ANCIENT RITE
With features as if carved in alabaster
Never had she seemed more beautiful
And unbelievably serene.
I caught her last breath on my lips
As she slipped peacefully into an everlasting dream.
They lowered sacred books into the grave
As she was laid to rest...
Worn casualties of time
Together with her blest.
“The Lord is my shepherd...”
Though yellowed pages crumble into dust,
Forever gone,
The words,
Eternal as the soul of my beloved,
Holy words and all their inspiration must
Live on.
Michael Shocket, Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire
AND ALL MY LIFE
And all my life
Is one
With you the stars
God’s world
And love
Through time and space
Into eternity
Alone
In flight
Yet not fleeing
But reaching
And learning
Loving life
Living love
Through being
And letting be
And you
And all my life
Lisa M Hogarth, Eton Wick, Berkshire
WISH
Please bring me through this night
I pray.
So that I may see another day
and smell the roses by the door
Then most of all a pleasure true
To see my baby’s eyes of blue
Looking up at me.
A J Marshall, Melchbourne, Bedfordshire
FOREVER
When I kiss you goodnight
my arms wrapped around you
I switch out the light
my love, my word is true
Watching over you as you sleep
I lie and caress you
listening to your heartbeat
loves percussion on silent view.
In my absence
my spirit and my soul
remain ever present
never to leave, never to go
Takes the place of my body
beside you at your side
forever looking over you
since I died
Memories never die, only fade
you live on through and through
as I pass on into the shade
still watching over you
Philip Jones, Shepperton, Greater London
FATHER
You combed my fears out of my mind
when I started my way.
You taught me
the wisdom of tolerance
when I made judgements.
You understood
my mind and its journeys
while teaching me the constellations
of life.
You listened to my dreams
and in silence
you protected my departure.
You created
my confidence
and I wrapped it in my dignity.
Father,
you are not my blood,
we chose each other.
I trusted you with my soul
and you gave me your heart.
Maria Maritato, Upminster, Essex
Maria Maritato has interests including opera, theatre,
classical music and reading. “I started writing poetry when I was nine because I had
a need to create,” she explained. “My work is influenced by human nature
and my style is intellectually passionate. I would like to be remembered
as a poet by birth and a writer by work.” Maria is a librarian with an
ambition to earn her living through writing. “The person I would most
like to meet is the author Julian Barnes, to absorb his intelligence,” she
said. “As well as short stories and a novel, all of which have been published,
I have written around 300 poems and most of these have been published
also.”
VOLCANO
When you looked at me
with black ice eyes
obsidian
you were afraid.
Your anger an explosion
of silence
and layers of buried ashes.
Handsome fertile impenetrable
my olive trees extended roots to your feet
and my roses lie from here
to the horizon of your ashes.
Sometimes
your magma of fear and fragility
burnt my houses and swept them away.
I forgive you now because on your lava
I’m still building castles for my people.
Barbara Lambelet, Brighton, Sussex
LOOKING BACK
Days are so bright and
Nights are so blue
I fell in love the very first day I met you
It was love at first sight
I met the man of my dreams
But it didn’t come true
Days and night went by
I still felt the sameway about you
I remembered I was still so much in love with you
Times went passed like they always do
I couldn’t be with you
Looking back, we still had fun
Once you help me to get on with my life
We once were so very close friends
Who had different lives
How I fell in love with you
You once turned your back on me and
Broke my heart too
I tried to get over you
And as I look back now, I can get on with my life without you
Sandra Goddard, Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey
SPIRIT OF THE CHEYENNE
Oh, native warrior
You come to me in dreams
With memories of the past
Visions of a time to come.
Your words of wisdom filter through
My sleeping mind
Guiding my journey along my chosen path.
You share your world with me
The circle of life
Where we are as one with nature.
I feel your presence in my waking hours
The trees sing in the wind with your voice
My spirit soars as the eagle
Giving me courage for my tomorrows
Yet to come.
Carole Harradence, Sutton, Surrey
THE COLLECTOR
I suppose I am lucky you know
I can still stoop, luckier than some
How old she looked
The lines of life, written on her face
Mellowed with the gentleness of age
She looked so motherly
I collect them you know, for the hospital
They sell them for scrap
We are trying to get a body scanner
They need it bad in fact
A million of them weigh a ton
So I collect all I can
The ring top from the ginger beer
And the orange can
She bent again, to pick some up
Old limbs pained, with each stoop
What a way to finance, the machine
That helps life recoup
Bernard Tucker, Rotherhithe, Greater London
ANNUNCIATION
Midyear, and the figs flowering white
Upon the old trees, the sea singing with fish
Below the azure skies, and at night
The sailing stars upon the dark water
And the opal moon
To bless me.
Midyear, and the longing
For what is not yet,
To be between worlds.
And then the stranger is here: no fear
At first, the message unspoken somehow,
But more than words, a blinding of the senses.
And when he is gone, a word remains
Lodged below the heart.
Midyear, and the figs newly green
Upon the old trees, my soul singing
Below the azure skies: when will my child be born -
At night beneath the sailing stars?
And a new longing for what is not yet,
Blessed, as I am, between worlds.
Paul Manton, Finchley, Greater London
With love to Charlotte and Sophia, for whom the song cycle, ‘Rites of
Season’, was written.
Paul Manton said: “I have been writing and performing songs and poetry
since I was a student during the 1960’s folk revival in England. After
teaching in Oxford I trained and worked as an Anglican priest. I have
been living in London since 1980, but regularly visit Austria in order
to sing with friends from Salzburg. ‘Annunciation’ is fourth of nine
in a song cycle written for Charlotte Pistor, an American soprano fast
becoming famous in Europe. The cycle’s main influence is symbolism.”
MY LOVE
Tall and slim
With short blonde hair
Eyes of blue
And skin so fair
A lovely smile, personality too
Expressive face
She walks with an air of grace
Special to me
Oh so right
For this is Kate,
My love - my wife,
My life.
Anthony Popham, Biggin Hill, Kent
MY MOTHER
She prescribes a prescription
Of an endless cure
She takes away all ills I’ve endured A way to a healthy living
Is all that she is giving
Her sincerity in all
She never lets me fall
Within any moment of pain
She gives me move to gain
She gives me pleasure
’Tis a thought that I would treasure
Each dawn is an awakening
Knowing the security of a mother’s arms
She did raise me
From her palms
Only one person who doesn’t fuss
Within her strength I’ve come to trust
A mother’s love does forever last
You know with her
You don’t need to run fast
Suzan Gumush, Chislehurst, Kent
HIS LOST LOVE (FICTION AND POETIC LICENCE)
One day I fell in love,
With you, with you my dear,
But you shunned my every advance,
And would not let me near.
I wooed you with flowers, I wooed you with Music,
I wooed you with poetry sweet,
But you turned your back, and would have none,
However hard I did entreat.
I sent you letters smelling so soft,
Of a perfume I could ill afford,
Telling you how I felt,
How much I you adored.
Now I stand by your grave, and lay a wreath,
To the love I never had,
And walk away from this resting place,
Feeling a heartache bad.
Now my love you may abide,
In heaven, in heaven on high,
And all that’s left for me to do, my love,
Is to wish you a sorry goodbye.
Miriam Bowman
Miriam Bowman said: “I really enjoy writing poetry.
Through it I can express all my feelings and emotions. I started writing
seriously a few
years ago and have never looked back. I have had work published - mainly
poetry. I am educated to A level and my other hobbies include swimming,
cinema and languages. I also enjoy travelling very much. I am publishing
a book of poetry at present, and I am looking forward to seeing it in
print. What a wonderful experience, at last!”