Read Poetry from The Essence Of Poetry
THE WORLD WE LIVE IN
When there is light, there is dark
Where there is white, there is black
There is right, and there is wrong
Where there is birth, there is death
This is our world we live in
Where everything ends and begins
We can have peace but we have war
Everyday friends and families are torn
We have decisions to make
We have opportunities to take
We are always making mistakes
But then that just creates
It will be a fresh start for us all
No matter if we succeed or fall
Because it will be the beginning
This is the world we live in
Kelly Rowe
Born in Liverpool, Kelly Rowe has interests including writing poems, stories and music. Aged 14, Kelly’s biggest fantasy is to be a singer/songwriter. “I’d most like to be Beyonce for the day, but I’d most like to meet Pink, because she’s so inspirational and cool,” she explained. Kelly has ambitions to be a great author, and would like to be remembered as someone that inspires others to express their feelings.
THE REBEL
He was beautiful and free, a real hero
Always had lots of ideas for a scenario
Flying over vast mountain chains and indented fjords
He was truly just like a lord
People suggested he do some networking
But he said, I am a king
People told him to write a CV
That would help him get a job
Disillusioned, but persistent
He said, OK, I need a bob
He was always driven, always on a mission
On his way, he was generating a lot of fascination
He didn’t want a revolution
Just a little bit of rebellion
Perhaps, he thought, I should become a monk
To pray all day and be free that way
People sent their congratulations
And offered him a recommendation
Alexandra Moskalenko
THE CURRENT
The present is indeed just that
A gift in which you’re past is wrapped
But fulfil mast, and take it head on
The current shouldn't hold you back for long
Go with the flow, you’ll lose your place
Because the current picks up rapidly when chased
But the current tends to hold you back
When caught up under its trends, affairs and facts
Weighs you down with pressure and discourse
To the endless depths of suggestible thoughts
Until oil or buried treasure surfaces someplace, somewhere
Leaving an unfading stain and bitter taste to bear
Rubs salt in wooden wounds and timber skin, until sore
Spits in your face, leads you ashore
Awake refreshed but still washed up
Deflated between a rock and a hard place
Under the current climate, heat waves will flow
So collapse your irrational thrashing to a casual backstroke
Until shoulder blades graze against sand and stone
Stand up, breath deep, and stride upstream
The current now runs through you, so soak up it’s energy
Alec Hallam
THE MOWING OF LAWNS
The garden is a kind of glade actually,
it’s there in the trees in the borders
which fringe the lawn,
cut precisely to keep the wild at bay
and where, therefore, you may leisurely stroll,
the garden became a small remnant of park,
Where, years before, the parterre became picturesque.
and here you are in your garden
mowing the grass in a tiny recital of history.
So men still mow their own meadow
and, inside, women still mow floors
sucking up detritus like grass in a different machine,
both still keeping the wild out
and imposing order on nature’s foxiness.
Michael Madden
Return to the top of the page
TWO KINGFISHERS
As I walked my dog in the Water Meadows Farnham
Just as the day was dawning
I saw a wonfrous sight
One I would remember all my life
A flash of blue, red and green
On two beautiful birds not often seen
They flew up in the air with open wings
And gave a display like the Red Arrows
Could only do in their dreams
If I had only taken a camera
I could have shared the experience with you
That flash of red, green and blue
Elizabeth Cranston
Dedicated to you - the sunshine of my life. Thank you for all your love and affection.
ODE TAE SLIPS, TRIPS AND FALLS
The first time you fa’ one yer bum
Yer gonna feel damn silly
Wi the shock o’ the thump on yer rump
Ye’ll feel damn peelly wally
Imagine the gravity of the event
When yer beaten by gravity wi nae intent
And mind and no fa’ on yer face
Great Chieftan of the Pudding Race
So now just be a safety leader
Dinnae gan and take a heeder
Mind yer step where er ye go
And keep orr stats down at zero
Peter Jackson
HAITI RISING
Mother nature begins to loudly call,
And buildings start to shudder and fall.
Now all around is nothing but rubble,
Leaving towns in serious trouble.
Hope begins to slowly die, and injured
And petrified people start to cry.
Sadness and death gradually takes
Hold, and so a serious disaster
Begins to unfold.
Street by street, road by road,
People share their confusion and
Screams, releasing all their pain of
Shattered dreams.
Why is there so much suffering and
Pain, that drives people insane.
Now these souls are being put
Through a serious test, while being forced
To lay their loved ones to rest.
But hope starts to rise when people
Hear lost childrens’ cries.
Ann-Marie Inman
DON’T CAST A CLOUT TIL JUNE IS OUT
Now it’s the end of June
Summer’ll be here soon
We’ve had some sun some days
A few nice healthy rays
But just don’t get too merry
Next day’s like January,
I’m sure those summer breezes
Are not meant to freeze us.
The weather’s really queer
Now global warming’s here
But who are scientists fooling?
It could be global cooling.
The weather forecasts went askew
No more long-term ones, they’ve no clue.
So how can scientists foresee
In fifty years, what it will be?
Valerie Burch
Return to the top of the page.
ANGEL ABOVE
As you sit there lonely and lost
I wondered why our paths never crossed
Maybe they did, we just couldn’t see
But I think it was an angel who sent you to me
Sent to me to give to you
Love and hope to see us through
So wherever you go or wherever you roam
Your love is safe in my heart I call home
So now you can sit there feeling loved
All because of the angel above
For an angel has true love and will not bite
This angel is heading for your sight
So open your eyes and you will see
There are plenty of angels like you and me
So now you’re not lonely nor are you lost
The angel above has made our paths cross
Lorraine Chantell Williams
Dedicated to my sons Johnny and Neil and every lost heart and soul on all life’s paths wherever you roam.
Born in Manchester, Lorraine Chantell Williams has interests including writing and having fun. “I would describe my style as straight from the heart, and I have written over 50 poems,” she explained. Lorraine would like to remembered as a giver, not a taker, and would most like to meet Simon Cowell because he helps people and charities.
EATING MELONS
Eating melons is a joy to me
Sitting in an armchair beside the sea
Kicking the sand on to the hearth rug
Boiling in gardens that are freshly dug
Drinking fruit juices, oiling my feet
Refreshing my thoughts in my gentle seat
Basking in ambers, lemons and limes
Strolling in moments from happier times
Sucking the nectar from the fruit of all years
Dreaming of discontents clouded in tears
Reflecting on seasons from memorable youth
Dozing in wastelands that tell of the truth
Eating melons is a translucent peace
Craving the moisture, a temporal release
Remembering a time under alien skies
Recalling a chair where a little boy cries
Michael Turner
Dedicated to Charlie, our cavalier king charles spaniel, who passed away on 15th July 2010. A wonderful companion and friend.
Born in Coleford, Michael Turner has interests including writing, walking and quizzes. “I started writing in 1971,” he explained. “My first poem was inspired by a clear, starry night.” Michael would describe his style as thought provoking and honest and T.S Eliot and war poetry influence his work. “My biggest fantasy is to walk into a bookshop and see a book written by me on the shelf,” he said. His worst nightmare is to die before fully completing all his poems and stories.
MICHAEL JACKSON
Michael Jackson,
Discerned as MJ,
Renowned Michael has become,
Perpetual moonwalk alone,
His fixed predicate.
From Jackson five,
Afros out of gracefulness,
Colour coordinated outfits,
Parallel dance manoeuvres,
Became a matchless icon.
From the Thriller of 1983,
To the Billie Jean of congruent year,
Outset of moonwalk.
Always on the move, perpetually struck by
The Smooth Criminal of 1988.
Despite omnipotent spirit he has become
Body popping Michael remains,
The pinnacle of music,
King of pop, peak of perfection in our Hearts,
Within our intellect.
Kevin Lamaro
Return to the top of the page.
THE MORNING AFTER
Last night’s fun, last night’s laughter,
Now the reality of the morning after.
I’m so hungover, dry and tired,
Last night I was animated and hot-wired.
I slowly crawl out of my pit,
Regret my binge - why do it?
Ohh, just stepped in that greasy kebab,
Seriously must consider rehab.
For what takes me half an hour,
I stagger lamely to the shower.
I know that I ought to
Alternate coffee with some water.
That bacon butty is my ambrosia,
I start to regain my composure.
Slowly getting lucid, sober and sane,
But soon will be caning it again.
One day I will stop and think
Before I have too much to drink.
Diana Hunt
A BITTEE BIGGER NOO
Fin ee’ were sma
just five or six
ye wid rin an’ play fitba
wee the loonies an’ quinnies
bit yer a bittee bigger noo
A dressed wan’t tae goat
yer wan’t tae dance bit
naebody came tee
bit there’ll be somebody
for you in a’
wi yer bonnie dies in
yer hair a’ deen
bit bit sik a sad face
the facey lichts up he asked
ma ta dance in awa
we go hand an’ hand
Gail Forman
Dedicated to my Mum and Dad
JUST A SOLDIER
The soldier lay, his body tense with fear
Yesterday he had been far from here
Quiet, still, prone on the sand
His job now to protect this land
Year after year no work could be found
The army beckoned, to a regiment renowned
A rifleman now, proud and brave
He saw the order, his officer’s wave
Break cover, run for your life
Focus, focus, forget kids and wife
He felt no pain, just a thud in the chest
He had been a good soldier, tried his best
Lying bleeding, his eyes growing dim
Red roses blooming all around him
Lord open your arms, welcome me
Let my spirit rise, at last, I’m free
Janet Chapman
Janet Chapman said: “I was born in Hertfordshire and my hobbies include lace making, writing and antique collecting. I’m retired and divorced with one son. I’ve never written a poem before, but lots of stories of all genres. I am the daughter of an ex soldier and ex wife of a soldier. I admire the work of Bernard Cornwell, particularly his Sharpe novels. Sharpe is the forerunner of today’s Rifles. Formally Royal Green Jackets, this regiment is receiving many casualties in Afghanistan. I wrote the poem with them in mind.”
Return to the top of the page.
SPRING IS IN THE AIR
Spring is in the air
It’s off to the Easter fair
The sun is shining
And the clouds have a silver lining
The lambing season is under way
Day light extends day by day
Warm spring nights
Is a gardener’s delight
Flowers dance about
As chickens hatch out
On the bonnet parade
You don’t need any shade
And it’s eggs galore
Who could want more?
Sue Roughan
HOVE PARK
Hove Park
Goldstone stones
Green expanse, trees, bushes
In the distance children playing
Heckles of fun
Dog owners walk and stop
Enjoyable sight for all
Fundraising
Leisure and pleasure
To visit
Mary Harding
THE RIVER OF LIFE
The river runs deep around me,
It meanders through valleys and dales
It stretches through God’s beautiful country
It’s not an ordinary river this, it’s a river in our mind
It makes me think of how we live our life, yours and mine.
We are like that river of dreams,
Winding, bending, twisting, turning, searching for a place to go.
It goes into our mind, it blows us away.
We ask ourselves questions that seem never to go away.
Why are we here? Where do we come from? When will it end?
It goes on to eternity giving us hope, of another life to come,
Sometimes it flows quickly as we try to follow it
Because it is a river in our mind, it’s a path that we choose to take.
If we follow this river and be true to ourselves
It will bring us back to safety in God’s hands.
This river as so many tributes to choose
The wrong one leads to danger, the other to a peaceful place.
Protected by God’s grace.
Mavis Pearson
Return to the top of the page.
