A few weeks ago a woman stepped into a local launderette to wash her weekly load.
Upon unloading her clothing from the washing machine,
To her utter shock she had mixed her whites with her coloureds.
Her whites were red.
Her blacks were grey and her yellows were orange.
But then something struck me.
Why was she so upset?
Was it because her wash was ruined,
And if so who says it was ruined?
Society, that’s who.
Maybe we should all allow our coloureds to mingle with our whites.
Perhaps if we did, our laundry that is life would start to take on a new and beautiful colour all by itself.
Perhaps one day we will no longer see black, white, yellow or any other one colour
but a whole rainbow of new and intermingling shades
to make a world full of rainbow coloured races.

Eileen McKee, Downpatrick, Northern Ireland

Born in Belfast Eileen McKee has interests including reading, writing and playing the guitar. "As a child I started writing poetry to escape the troubles of Belfast in the 1970’s and my work is now influenced by the world and the events in it, "she remarked."I would describe my work as raw and tempremental and I would like to be remembered as someone as who gave inspiration through her words and work. I am a 36-year-old poet with an ambition to be published worldwide. I have three children - Biddy, Niamh and Clodagh, and the person I’d most like to meet is Nelson Mandela as I would like to know what kept him going in jail.” "

MOLLUSC SHELL

I hold this shell, palm open
white grain in curve of folded hand
veins matching veins,
And make a spell, a wish,
a moments sharp rapport,
to bind this self, this soft flesh
to land, to rock this shore.
Through tunnels of bone, rivers of sinew
to spread and stretch, loose and bend.
To curve outwards as the land curves its wrists
to the wrists of the sea-shore.

Pat MacKenzie, Glasgow, Scotland

THE AVERAGE MAN

His scope of thought bounded by dreams
Less alien to forgotten ancestors than him,
He, though his consciousness but part surrenders
To any of the objects it comprises,
Neglects the death with which his being’s charged.
Though sometimes in the well of sleep,
When the bucket of his mind is going down,
He senses more than sees a complementary ghost,
One who watches on the birdless shore
Washed by his dreams as they carry him away.
But fears lest she should open her embrace
And never thinks he’ll grip her when he lies
In endless copulation with the soil,
Nourishing the corn like a greedy farmer
Insensitive to the quiet vegetable lust.

James Dickie, Greenock, Scotland

COUNTING THE COST

We make mistakes. We’re left to count the cost.
We make a wrong turn. We’re left to count the cost.
We make a bad deal. We’re left to count the cost.
We make a wrong choice. We’re left to count the cost.
We scorn advice. We’re left to count the cost.
We break a rule. We’re left to count the cost.
We aim too high. We’re left to count the cost.
We miss the boat. We’re left to count the cost.
We miss some moves in games. We’re left to count the cost.
We miss the point, not right engrossed. We’re left to count the cost.
We count all harvests and count the cost.
We count all cooking and count the cost.
We count all earnings, pay tax and count the cost.
We count the time our journeys take and count the cost.

William Anderson Bruce, Buckie, Scotland

THINK GOOD

A thought, an idea comes into mind
Some are for good, some evil inclined
We have to differentiate, as well we might
Act on our principals, do what is right
This world of people, all different creeds
All with a future and different needs
Some shy from power whatever their work
Others adore it, giving orders from birth
God is a power that rules over all
Understanding emotions, if we do fall
Mistakes we make, on journeys thru life
His sun shines on all in periods of strife
Let ideas flow to help all mankind
Help suffering people, lagging behind
Think kindly think holy in all that you do
May angels of conscience help you be true?

Joan Prentice, Elgin, Scotland

BLESSED

Am I blessed or am I cursed
The emotions I have, I’m ready to burst
A sensitive soul which lies so deep
Although a man not afraid to weep

I am a pacifist, no need to harm
My whole being is to try and calm
This passion runs inside, impossible to teach
With every other human I so long to reach

It’s love to spread no thoughts to fight
This burning feeling glows forever bright
With each step down life’s winding road
Turning bad into good it’s a heavy load

My clouds with stardust would travel around
Until every living creature was eventually found
Clouds would sprinkle only tears of joy
I want to rid myself and feel less coy

After consideration I’m able to think
Roses are red but some are pink
With my soul so tender and delicately dressed
I’m definitely not cursed, I’m luckily blessed

Andrew R E Matthews, Downham Market, Norfolk

Born in King’s Lynn,Andrew Matthews has interests including sport, cinema, theatre, cooking, writing and spending time with his family. "I only started writing recently and my work is influenced by life experiences and my soul, "he remarked. "I would describe my style as honest and real without any frills and I would like to be remembered as a genuine, likeable fun-loving person who was never negative. " Aged 46, Andrew works as a salesman and has ambitions to travel the world, widen his experiences, and find true love. He is divorced with teenage daughters Faye and Rachel. "The person I would most like to be for a day is either the prime minister or the chancellor. "

THE NATURE OF HAPPINESS

In my pursuit of happiness
I tried the path of exercise
I ate good food, cut down my drink
And in my dreams would fantasise
In sentimental soppiness
Of life in unrealistic pink

Hard exercise can lead to strain
On muscles and on ligaments
Two days and nights of weariness
Does nothing for the rudiments
Of happiness, since it did drain
My life and led to bleariness

I realised then that joyfulness
Can only come from what’s within
‘Tis only cast of mind that counts
Contentment flowing ‘neath the skin
For thought produces happiness
Philosophy in large amounts

John Brown, Peterborough, Cambridgeshire

APRIL

April is the time of the year
I will always remember springtime
Autumn, October, November
Twenty years have swept by
I love you to this very day
Where are you?
Why do you stay away?
I hope one day if I pray you will come home
Where you can fill an empty room
You will mend my heart
It is broken now
Pleases come home before it’s too late
Each day I dream in vain
Hoping and dreaming
I will see you again
Walk briskly in the garden gate

Gloria Preston, Norwich, Norfolk

DAYS OF YOUNG

I’d become fond of Sheryl, we had matured together, she and I,
And in many ways were very similar.
We were complex in ways, which are not immediately apparent
To the casual observer.
The uneducated palate found in us was brazen and verbose,
Which belies the deeper feelings.
Forgive me if I become affected with age,
But this is what solitude does to wine.
Some things are not meant to be bottled for too long.
But that knowledge is beyond me now, and I am subject to a different kind of chemistry.

Liz Reville, Powys, Wales

THOUGHTS

Thoughts of living, dreading dying
Thoughts of laughing, seldom crying
Thoughts of loving, dreams of hating
Thoughts of giving never taking
Thoughts of sleeping, nightmare allowing
Thoughts of standing, never cowering
Thoughts of seeking yet still hiding
Thoughts of hoping, never finding
Thoughts of life staying forever
Thoughts of love waiting to sever
Thoughts of tomorrow remaining there
Thoughts of today, too hard to bear
Thoughts of children never playing
Thoughts of feelings near to displaying
Thoughts of pain while apart
Thoughts of breaking to the heart
Thoughts of clouds in the sky
Thoughts of questions as to why
Thoughts of thinking, numbs the brain
Thoughts of times to shed the pain

Ian Samaden, Cardiff, Wales

PASSAGE THROUGH LIFE

The rhythm of life’s unpredictable
If rhythm there is at all.
At times we sail on an even keel;
We don’t dictate, we accept the real
The reality of it all.
Don’t rock the boat - our course is set
And all is well - we cry.

Fate then intervenes - whatever that means
And forces beyond our control
Unsettle the status quo
We are shunted across to a different life
Whether we will or not.
Have we any control? A debatable point.
Maybe the future can show.

Irene Welch, Sandy, Bedfordshire

THOUGHTS OF YOU

Never did I think you would go.
My son, my son, I miss you so.
Time is so short,
Life can be so very cruel.
If only I could have changed the rule.
My heart has broken to the core;
If only the chance to see you once more;
Would help to ease my pain.
I miss our chats, and laughter too.
So special to me all your life through.
I try to imagine, through my gloom
That you are near, in the next room.
Take care my son, till we meet again
When I too, will be free from pain.

June Nolan, Portsmouth, Hampshire

THE BLUE BROOCH

What can I buy for your birthday today
You have so much its hard to say
What would be the most acceptable present for you
I hope you like this brooch the colour is blue
I went to the jeweller’s in the market square
They seemed to have a better choice there
The shop assistant was so helpful to me
I waited while she brought out a key
There before me was the one I liked best
This brooch really stood out from all the rest
The stones were exquisite, the style was unique
It could cost me my wages for a week
I decided with regret it was too much for me
Instead on the tray a small spray brooch did I see
The price was much cheaper it’s true
I decided this was my choice for you
So I hope you will like my gift my friend
For it is the thought that counts in the end

Enid Skelton, Luton, Bedfordshire

FAITH

In this day and age, so full of pain,
Youngsters face strife and stress, all with no gain.
Ethnic problems, family, heartache and fear,
Life is so precious, short and so dear.

Parents struggled and suffered to see you succeed,
Faith, love and confidence is all that you need.
Things could be worse, be strong and smile,
Life is amazing, and in a while,
You’ll see flowers struggling from stones, to grow,
And birds singing, in the rain and the snow.

Listen to the music that stirs your soul,
Be determined to work and reach your goal.
Think of the poor ones with not long to live,
Without your chance, of all you can give.

For you are our future, the life ahead,
Our love and our pride, when we are long dead.

Karin Bull, Windsor, Berkshire

Dedicated to my dear children, Samantha and Keighley

CONCEPTS

If you can frame words
To form a concept
That others will accept
But accepting do not comprehend
Yet not comprehending
Are reluctant in admitting
That they don’t understand
The concept you are submitting,
Your concept they will defend
By enforcing its meaning
By frequently parroting
Your concept that they accept
While meaning continuing to seek
By mentally gleaning
While still not twigging
That you are merely
A sad control freak

Geoffrey Martin, Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire

LONDON

Miracle of a midnight city
Aftermathed by warfare
Centrepieced by palace, abbey, parliament
Scented by roses strewn beside walks and squares
Crowded by vacated thoroughfares
Overgrown with people, races, religions
Arguing out metropolis in different voices
Making patterns in ideas on pages
Silent in huge libraries
As the river moves alongside mammoth structures
Towers of windows, where deserted offices are noiseless
And only weekdays are seen on calendars

Overhead, stars between concrete and glass
Are seen, and are not seen
Quiver, glimmer, pinprick darkness like brilliants
Fill the canvas of the sky forever
And in their beauty, words fail to recount
The certain truth of the glory of the one moment
Which is the glory of forever
The paradise of being

John Alan Phipps, Whitstable, Kent

ONCE IN A LIFETIME

Once in a lifetime
I can see your smile
And you can see me by
Your side with happiness
In your eyes and all
Your dreams will come true
When I am with you,
You will look back and
Remember how once in a lifetime
When I am blowing like the wind
You will see me and remember me
In your dreams.

Sandra Goddard, Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey

LOVE

The striving for the huge salary,
The struggle with the credit card bills,
The heavy head next day after too much before,
The wondering of who it was that one danced with
And did it go further, you can’t recall.
Do these really count?
What have they to do with love?

The mother looking on her child,
The father looking happily on to his family,
The child looking at the lamb,
The bird fetching twigs to nest,
The calf sucking mother’s udder,
The dolphin leaping through joyful air,
The seagull flying unseen wind,
The wronged forgiving out of love.

Are not these the things that count?
And is not love herein entwined?

Alek Newman, Eastbourne, Sussex

THE HEATWAVE

The summer has been so, so hot.
It’s been difficult to keep cool.
We shouldn’t complain about our lot,
Just be grateful for what we’ve got.

But the grass is brown and dry,
The flowers droop by the wayside.
We cannot use our hosepipes.
’Cos they’ve banned them, that is why.

The levels in the ponds are low,
The fish are on the surface.
Don’t kill them off, so slow,
Just top up the water.

The birds are feeling it as well.
They’re foraging for food.
So think of other creatures too,
While you’re feeling hot as hell.

Barbara Abbott, Wraysbury, Greater London

MY SUNSHINE

Here comes my sunshine
On her wedding day
Father Alan will say come in and pray
And bless them in a special way

When the bride comes out smiling
And the groom stands up straight
A person is twirling an umbrella at the gate

The photographers followed them everywhere
A big brass band with a blare
No one seemed to have a care

Some in peculiar dress, there was one
Of a cat with a mouse on his head
And one with a car as a bed
Another a clown with a carrot for a nose

Onto the beach the sand twirling around
The couple holding hands
But true love was found

Julie Canham, Hove, Sussex

GIVE US BACK OUR DIGNITY

Give us back our dignity, keep your promise to the sick
We don’t want a thin partition, give us plaster and brick
Best, give us back our separate wards, our dignity and pride
Not toilets shared by the walking and curtains that don’t hide
It’s not right for people frail and sick, to lose modesty as well
The invisible scars left in their minds, will in the voting tell
If you go back on your promise, our memories are long
Our numbers are so many and our votes are very strong

Bernard Tucker, Rotherhithe, Greater London

I BROUGHT YOU FLOWERS

I brought you flowers -
Petals and stamens of delicate design and colour
To call forth your recognition and response.
Food of the growing thoughts to while away the hours.
For thoughts have life and can reveal
That which words conceal.
Now you sleep, as only the dead do, without dreaming.
I look at the flowers spread open in a vase,
Poised in stillness, offering indifference,
As dry mouthed and stupid in my grief
Muddled thoughts bring no relief.

Idris Woodfield, Chichester, Sussex

NOCTURNE

It’s a late summer evening.
The sky is clear blue.
Giant fluffy white clouds of a shell coral hue
hang low and still in the sky,
aglow with the sun’s evening light
as day makes way for the dark, velvet night.

A breeze rustles the leaves
of a horse-chestnut tree,
clothed in all its finery.
Its spreading leaves, edged with rusty brown,
are bathed in a soft golden light
from the sun’s fiery furnace in the far universe
as it sinks to the west in glorious majesty.

A blackbird is singing without a care
And seems to me all unaware
That the blue of the day
Has turned sombre grey
And in ten minutes
Dusk overshadows day.

Rachel Smith, Croydon, Surrey

REPENTANT SINNER

With mighty arms Lord save our souls,
Defend us from all deadly foes.
Detach Hell’s demons from their prey,
Raise anchor Lord and cast away.
Then bolt all hatches, close your gate.
Forgive our sins Lord, wipe the slate.

Fred Ablitt, Southend-on-Sea, Essex

LIFE’S CREATION

A thought passed through my brain the other day,
About how I came to be.
Of course I know about the birds and bees
And life’s creativity.

Where did the first human seed come from
And how did it grow?
From the Almighty as the good book says,
So only Adam and his wife know.

If to inspire and contribute to the world we came,
Then in my case it certainly was not ordained,
For according to my friends and family
I should be on another plane!

Anne M Whittington, Bexhill-on-Sea, Sussex

REMEMBRANCE

Realisation as heavy lids slowly open. Planting
firmly outstretched feet, once snuggled beneath
a warm duvet. Early dawn penetrated the drapes,
drawing aside revealed a line of crispy, crystal
coated roofs. Once a patchwork of colour.
Fossil like pavements. Neon nights had long faded.
Streaming rays bounced off the pane, spot-lighting
the few remaining golden shapes, dangling in
defiance, on the twisting lengthy boughs. Lifting
the latch, an automatic daily function. Misty
vapours bellowed with first morning gasps.
Cleansing air displays nature’s final hue,
a carpet of rustic, amber, and tawny confetti.
Broken spaces, emerald blades topped with teardrops.
A solemn bell’s sad song, yearly crying for youth’s eternal souls.
Fragile scarlet cups nod gently on their delicate stems.
Reality, November the eleventh.

Maxine Henderson, Harlow, Essex

FINAL FAREWELL

When your eyes are weary
And your mind is numb
All your tears have dried
And your body has all cried.
Is it the end? Time to run?

When your back’s against the wall
And all the fighting subsides to woe
With the wasted years of forgotten moments
The strength of pain washes over you
And hides the tears inside.
Is it all over? Time to go?

When all has gone and sapped you dry
And time is empty, futile
With all that once was now an empty lie.
A tortured soul void and forlorn
Outside looking in, no future no past
The end now clear in sight
Time for a finale
A final farewell.

Martine Gafney, Kentish Town, Greater London

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

Don’t complain about what you do not have.
Celebrate the things you have
Give a thought for those who’ve slept beneath your light,
And those that rummage through your bins

Just be glad for what you have,
And remember those who do not have.
Remember the man, who took his last fruit up a tree,
And said a prayer before his jump.

He gently peeled his fruit, timely he sat and ate,
And as he slowly dropped the skin
Below him came another man,
Who bent down and picked the skin from off the ground.

Slowly he brushed the dust from off the skin,
Started to eat it with a grin.
Then came the man from up the tree,
Who said, “Thank God there are worse off than me!”

So next time when you think that life is bad,
And the world has done you a wrongful deed,
And you think of giving up,
There’s always someone worse off than you. Think again.

Elaine Jackson, Winchmore Hill, Greater London

YOU

On your face the moon did shine
Revealing the beauty I once called mine
But I can’t decipher these feelings you hide
Too deep in your shell for me to confide
Care for yourself, forget that I’m here
To know you’re safe, I shrug off the fear
But it’s not so trivial, when you tell me now
That you love me, adore me, worship my ground
You broke from your shell and took my hand
So I want to tell you how I proud I am
The way we fought, through the good and the bad
And smiled though we were undeniably sad
We laugh on the better side, now we’ve made it through
No words can describe my admiration for you

Emily Parsons, Basildon, Essex

STILL

When my troubles threaten to drown me
In a dark and bottomless well,
I need your calming influence
To make sense of my living hell.

A look of concern, a short phonecall,
Time set aside to share,
That’s more precious to me than flowers or gifts,
That’s how I know you care.

It’s true what they say about fair-weather friends,
I’ve certainly had my fill.
They’ve come and gone throughout my life
But thank God you’re here with me still.

Pauline Herbison, Randalstown, Northern Ireland

TROUBLED MIND

I got this problem,
Don’t know what to do
Need some help need confiding in someone, but who?

My problem is trivial and yet it’s so big.
I think it’s unsolvable, what can one do,
Has there ever been a problem like mine?

Afraid of rejection
Afraid of perplection
Afraid of misunderstandings
Who can I confide?
There seems no one; better keep quiet.

Left with confusion and turmoil inside
When longing for the words, “Don’t worry, it’s going to be alright.”

There is this problem, I don’t know what to do.
I toss and toil at night and jump out of sleep wondering where it will lead.
I am all alone with my troubled mind.

Christine Goode, Hereford, Herefordshire

REGRET

We can never go back to those times again
When we were all together.
We can never go back to those times again,
They are gone, forever.

Some of us are missing,
Some have gone before,
Some are still remaining,
It will be thus, evermore.

So those who have a family,
Where none of you are gone,
Cherish one another
As I wish that I had done.

The saddest word is never,
Never to see someone you love,
Never to kiss and hold them,
Never to rise above

The pain, the hurt, the deep regret,
That when you had them with you,
You did not do your best.

Janet Jury, Birmingham, West Midlands

UNSPOKEN THOUGHTS

The emotion I feel when she is near
Is hard to explain. My world comes
Alive at the sound of her voice
And her eyes reflect how I feel.

Her laughter lights my life.
Her Philosophy of living, of loving, is giving.
Her smile is my delight.

She fills me with sensual passion,
Is warm, gentle and kind. She will
Share my soul forever and
Always possess my mind.

I need to speak my thoughts,
Share with her all I feel - yet I hold
Back. Anxious not to appear a fool.

How will I feel if I keep my thoughts
Silent and tomorrow she is not in my life?
Much pain, regret and ache in my heart
Because I left it too late.

Sheila Rogers, Walsall, West Midlands

DEAD FOREVER

The conflict at an end
No more bombs, no more war
But you are dead forever.
Another grateful nation
Has had liberty restored.
Can't believe you're dead for good.
Soon it will be history
Told by veterans
Though you are always young.
I've forgotten your voice
And the way you laughed,
My imagination fails.
Longer than two minutes
And much less pious
Is your eternal silence.

Jen Housden, Leicester, Leicestershire

FRIENDSHIP

The value of good friendship means so very much,
For to have good friends and neighbours that you can really trust
Is a lifelong blessing that will continue through the years,
And will help you through your problems, unhappiness and fears.
Good friends will give you a helping hand when anything goes wrong,
And join in the fun and laughter when the good times come along.
For true friends are wonderful people who’ll support you all the way,
As they are always there for you every single day.
So with every encounter of friendship, there really is no doubt,
That with every act of kindness it’s always the thought that counts.

Jan Imeson, Allington, Lincolnshire

MY ALLY

You’ve always been there, right there by my side,
Through the ups and downs, we’ve laughed and we’ve cried
You know me so well, you know how I feel,
When some things go wrong, we both keep it real.

Some days I feel low, when things go wrong,
You’ll put your arms around me, and help make me strong,
You lift my spirit, you raise me high,
You tell me I’m human, and allowed to cry.

You have your days, when you feel low too,
Your there for me, and I’m there for you,
I kid around, and have a joke,
Even though, we’re both flat broke.
Now with all this, said and done,
Through the years, we’ve had such fun,
There are days, when you drive me round the bend,
Your not just my sister, your my best friend.

Michéle Wood, Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire

MY BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT

I woke up on my birthday, full of joy and glee
What exciting gifts are there, waiting just for me?
I bounce downstairs and see, all sorts of shapes and sizes
All gaily coloured, some with bows, oh, how I love surprises
I opened one, wraps, everywhere and inside was a poem
T’was signed from Jeff, the boy next door, although I hardly know him.

He wrote

‘You’re very beautiful, you’re kindling a fire
I’m sure that you’re the one for me, you fill me with desire
I’d write this poem longer but some things I’d have to edit
I want to buy you diamonds, when I pay off all my credit
I saw a ring the other day, it really was quite smart
I’d really like to buy it you ’cause you’re close to my heart
However, though I can’t just yet spend such large amounts
I’ll think of you forever, and it’s the thought that counts.’

Valerie Burch, Hyde, Cheshire

DARK ANGEL

Sweet butterfly with golden wings eyes of silver, heart of stone
Dark angel you tear me to a thousand parts.
Black widow spider deadly child, you have the power to devour
Possess my soul, my heart
My eyes see only you, your golden hair
Your wicked smile, beautiful white unicorn
I know I’ll never break you but rest with me a while
Let me touch those silken lips,
Kiss every part of you
Tease you with my fingertips, lay my head upon your breasts
Just for a while, dark angel let me pretend you’re mine.
Before the world steals you away from me
I know then I’ll be fine, dark angel heart of stone
No one will ever tame you
Wild child hair of gold, I have tasted beauty,
My dreams will never die
I am content I cannot ask for more, although my heart
Still smouldering
I know that you were mine
Just for a little while in time

Jane Marsh, Wythenshawe, Greater Manchester

THE SILENT WORLD

A mature friend who would socialise.
Had difficulty in hearing, she would disguise.
In a discussion there were problems galore.
People enjoyed her company, all the more.

In conversation there was always a twist,
The subject would change or not exist.
The answers she gave were sublime.
As they were repeated most of the time.

There were times of a laugh and a joke,
She would lip-read before she spoke.
With concentration to understand,
Thinking, she had the upper hand.

Then one day there was a suggestion,
To give her help that was the question.
To arrange to wear a hearing aid.
Life would be better, not in the shade.

To her delight everything changed,
Sounds were different, when arranged.
It had been hard work on a pretence,
Now a new life will commence.

Doreen Barella, Sunderland, Tyne and Wear

BUTTERFLY SHUTTLE

It is here I sit and count thoughts,
Here in this field
Under this sun,
Sat amongst the falling blossom,
Nature’s snow of summer.
It is here I see the butterfly shuttle,
Flitting through my mind’s loom
Weaving garlands of memories.
A cloud passes the sun,
I lose count,
I panic,
Then it’s gone by
And all is sunshine and blossom again.
I start recounting
And smile.

Ian Kitchingman, Washington, Tyne and Wear

STOLEN THOUGHTS

I sat cross-legged in a corner of my mind,
Counting out my thoughts to see
What had been stolen in the night.
I had gone softly to my dreams, slipping through
The fading wash of light, a ragged shadow of myself,
To not disturb those who were already there.
But there were so many, lounging in my
Velvet field. Big smiles, big pockets, winning ways.
They told me they would make a daisy chain
Long enough to last me through my winter days.
They picked and plucked my gold-eyed thoughts,
That turn me to the sunlight, lean me into green,
And let me feel slow raindrops on my face.
They filled their pockets until my field was nearly bare
And at that pearl which is first light, they danced away.
It was then I saw their little horns and waving fork-like tails.
I spiralled out the grey end of night to the
Broken landscape of my day.

Valerie Robinson, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Tyne and Wear

A SILENT WATCHMAN

To him she made a gift of the present
and in so doing broke his heart
although she did not know it then.

As they stand side by side
she moves her hand, once more toward
his withered self, and waves farewell
to another passing season.

A very real sense of time
is reflected within the uneven contours of his face,
in the touch of his motionless form.
Looking toward the vast ocean
she feels the breeze of a life long since past
run its warm hand across her cold skin.

All history becomes attached to strange tales
like the barnacle on the girth of the whale
or the leaf on the breeze of autumn.
So there is a place which is not altogether
arbitrary, but fitting.

At this place, where time stand still,
life will often beat the strongest.

Timothy Wilkinson, Ilkley, West Yorkshire

TOUCHED BY A STRANGER

No earthly encouragement abound
Doubting every human essence
By chance a weighty problem sound
Fearful, withdrawn from presence.

Mirrored eyes reveal the soul within
Finding perspective, form and grace
A childish vulnerability without sin
Free of restriction and pace.

Among the dust and cloud
Litter shrewn by nature, gathers
Covered by a carefully pleated shroud
Imprinted oil lathers.

The end to a life’s mourning
To begin another dimension
Opening of another dawning
Fearless and without tension.

Mixed blessings without thought
Once a child in a manger
Sometimes we get caught
And touched by a stranger.

Pauline Pickin, Wetherby, West Yorkshire

HE WOULD UNDERSTAND

Unemployed yet again, useless once more,
A social rejection, thrown to the floor,
Danger to work with, not fit to employ,
Insurance risk, whose presence would annoy.

Upset by the failure, with no prospects at all,
With confusion reigning, set for a fall,
Inner anger deepening, evil thoughts reign,
Mind losing sanity, deep emotional pain.

Searching an escape, seated in the chair,
Ashamed of my person, mind filled with despair,
No friends to talk with, no help at all,
Sad disabled person, feeling dirty and small.

Emotional disaster, left without any hope,
Pain too intense, the brain couldn’t cope,
Sitting in misery, mind gripped by fears,
Face full of pain, eyes filled with tears.

What are they scared of, where lays my sin,
Nobody could be bothered, no one tried to begin,
Yet my dog saw the suffering, he would understand,
Coming over to comfort, his head in my hand.

Nigel Constable, Leeds, West Yorkshire

Born in York, Nigel Constable has interests including poetry. "I wrote a large amount of poetry from 1980 to 1999 during long term unemployment and I found it an excellent emotional release," he explained. "My work is influenced by my faith and my emotional pain and I would describe my style as christian and emotional. I would like to be remembered as someone who cared, was positive and smiled." Aged 44, Nigel would most like to meet a good photographer to take pictures for his book. "I have written an unpublished prayer book and many poems and my worst nightmare is being so miserable I have no reason to smile," he added.

A FLOWER MISUNDERSTOOD

A rose, a lily
Carnations a daisy,
A rose seductive,
Yet cuts with its thorns,
A lily is elegant,
Even whilst it mourns,
Carnations flamboyant,
And always stand tall.
A daisy so dainty,
Respected, yet small.
If you were a flower,
What flower would you be?
I’m all of the above,
I attract butterflies,
Honey bees,
So when you next send me
A bouquet of love,
Make sure it’s not
A flower that’s misunderstood.

Angel Jordan, Bradford, West Yorkshire

ANGEL WHO WANTED TO FLY

You called me an angel
You told me I could fly
You gave my dreams a pair of wings
To ride on your wind and fly high
But thunders took me by surprise
I shuddered and I shook
Gone were you from my side
I wept, I knew not where to look
The heavens were not pleased yet
Lightning broke my wing
A broken heart in a broken body
Ode to the dreams would he sing
Heavens be where they are
Where God almighty might be
It’s you I wanted to be with
It’s you I wanted to see
You are the heaven
Where the fallen angel wants to fly
The joy to be with you
No wealth on earth could buy
I thought I would tread into the void
Your memories beckoned me back one last time
But without you it was void there too -
I spread my broken wings -
The wind was wafting on the chime.

Jyotirmoy Roy, Leeds, West Yorkshire

SLIDING, SLIDING BLUE WATER

Opaque shadows lurk in the depths,
Scared into corners
By the bubbles.
Above,
Human shapes cut
Through the
Brilliant blue.
A laugh
Pierces the babble,
Before the timer goes again.
A moment of joyful happiness,
Disappears
At the beginning of the circle.
I think
Of what I am doing,
Elbows high, legs, up and down.
Insane.
I get nowhere,
Don’t think,
Swim.

Sophie Edmonds Allen, York, North Yorkshire

NAGA SUBA SEE

How is your night?
It is bright, it is bright.
It is hot, full of desire.
Candles burn flames of fire,
Embers red deep within.
Purity, not of sin,
Passion, mind whirling is it lust?
No, he is true, very just.
He drenches me with love.
The feathers of angels fall from above,
Suddenly the dawn starts to break.
A farewell kiss, then leave in haste,
How is your night?
It is bright, it is bright.

Vannesa Zandani, Hartlepool, Cleveland

TRUE LOVE

My heart is beating
And it’s beating for you
My eyes are searching
They are looking for you
When you feel ill and unhappy
I hurt deep inside too
But when you laugh and smile
I feel contented, it’s true
This incredible bond
Tears and joy merging through
Are what true love is all about
For one person suddenly becomes two

Joan Kernick, Newton Abbot, Devon

SURRENDER

I wake up every day
To the same old question
Where is my dream?
A thousand different options
But none’s ever for me

Sometimes envy overcomes me
For everyone who knows
What they want to do
While I still dream my life away
Waiting for the call

The fear of wasting time
Is growing day by day
The walls are closing in
A decision will soon be made
For a clear way to follow

Maybe I’m not meant to be
A bright star in the sky
Maybe, I’ve got to surrender
And serve for a better cause
For someone else’s dream to come true

Katja Daetwyler, Exeter, Devon

Katja Daetwyler said: "I grew up in Switzerland but prefer to live in Devon. I am the author of Surrender and I enjoyed writing and making up stories as a child but have only recently found inspiration again for a way of dealing with life’s emotions. I have a passion for travelling and foreign cultures, love music and nature, I also like people who speak their mind and wish that more people would realise that possession does not lead to happiness. "

SEARCHING FOR DOLPHINS

Eight years old, you stood
at the prow of the boat
searching for dolphins,
and you found some,
a whole family.

Ten years on,
your same radiant smile,
still searching,
still finding,
still showing me your treasure.

My darling,
the world is your oyster;
you are brave enough
to dive to the very bottom;
you will discover pearls.

I like to assume it is I
who showed you how to search,
to swim and to sail,
and most of all,
the importance of a smile.

Michèle Darnell-Roberts, West Pennard, Somerset

I’M STILL THINKING ABOUT YOU

I wonder what I did wrong
I don’t know, but I must be strong
I never see you, or hear about you anywhere
I never see you, but I try hard not to care

I’m still thinking about you
Trying to know just where I stand
I’m still thinking about you
Hope it works out as I planned

Wendy Elizabeth Day, Bristol, Avon

ORANGES FOR BREAKFAST

Wicker chair in the shade, she sits on the veranda
Carefully stripping the orange peel
Breakfast taken surrounded by bright flowers
Hues of Menorca, orange, pink and purple
Large butterflies and lizards her silent companions
As the strong bright sun warms the morning
This is a place of bold statements
No subtle gentle roses of Cheltenham here
No toast and marmalade taken with discreet conversation
In the autumn of her years no hiding behind
Twinsets, pearls and Earl Grey tea
Golden wine a headier brew, caution thrown to the wind
No rheumatism in large, cold, wintry, draughty rooms
The family mockingly call her home a shoe box
She laughingly replies saying all her needs are here
It is too hot to polish or dust family treasures
No small spade weeding English garden borders
The winter of her life is her own pleasure
The taste of oranges for breakfast is delicious

Eileen Fry, Longford, Gloucestershire

MOMENTS OF OUR TIME

Music is the food of love
Poetry is content
Like the colours of a painting
Are the portraits of our hearts

The potters’ wheel turns slowly
With pots of shapes and sizes
And the blades of the windmills
Grinding foods for all to share

The floods of fear and fires of hell
The tempest of the heavens
Are just a few of our daily fears
In the moments of our time

Moments not forgotten
As the minutes turn to hours
With the beating of our heart’s content
When time alone waits for no one

Jim Carlin, Barnstaple, Devon

IT’S POETRY

Poetry is a quality that pleases the poet’s mind
He searches and searches, different words to find
They must be used in the right perspective
To really sound effective

The poet must be able to visualise
To help the poem to materialise
If he should wake in the middle of the night
With mixed up thoughts, he should get up and write

He must write down those thoughts
That enter the head, even if it means getting out of bed
He must use imagination and the poem will start to grow
Write whatever’s in the thoughts and let the words flow
Poetry is an art and a form of expression
It’s also very helpful in boredom and depression

Violetta J Ferguson, Burnham-on-Sea, Somerset

COME SIT BESIDE

Trumpet message for heavenly travel
On journey innumerable thoughts to unravel
Travel to where stars reside
At heavenly place come sit beside
Far from cast of first stones
Crikey even Ulysses atones
Earth life is but a mere blink
Compared to a heaven’s wink
Embers of love glowing
Golden words flowing
Cast aside all doubts
Afore the thought that counts

Fish and coral share the ocean,
Stars and planets share the sky,
Sunshine, storm, weeds and flowers,
All are shared by you and I. The unborn babe in the womb,
The mother’s very lifeblood will share,
Then with teeming millions also,
Shares the first great gasp of air.
Sharing is not some virtue,
Nor an art which we acquire.
It is intrinsic in our being,
To share is a deep desire.
Sharing is the warp
In the weft of our life.
Forget the fret, forget the wars,
Forget the endless strife.
Even if we may be unwilling
Even though we be not averse,
Sharing is the umbilical cord
Spun to link the universe.

Philippa Devenay, Wirral, Merseyside

Born in Birkenhead. Philippa Devenay has interests including long distance walking, reiki and spiritualism. "I started writing poetry when I was a child for enjoyment, encouraged and helped by my mother and sister, "she commented. "My work is influenced by everything I experience and everyone I meet and I would like to be remembered with love. "Aged 47, Philippa has written many poems but this is the first to be published. "My favourite meditations are Becoming one with the dawn and flying as an eagle, soaring up into the light, to be part of a circle surrounding the earth with love and healing, " she added.

MY LOVE

You are all the flowers of my life
I could not trade you for anything because you are everything
You hold my heart and soul
You’re the pleasure and passion I behold
You’re my shoulder to cry on when I have tears
When I’m in your arms I have no fears
For every season of the year you give me so much cheer
For every day we wake up you’re my buttercup
For every night that comes around
I wake you up with a kiss and I present you with a wish
You make my life glow you’re the love I could not let go

Ruth Berrnidett, Glasgow, Scotland

Born in Glassgow, Ruth Berrnidett has interests including reading, writing, arts and crafts. "I am shy about my writing and my work is influenced by loneliness," she pointed out."I describe my style as tender, kind and emotional, and I would like to be remembered as a loving mum who needed to make a difference and had to be a little special for once." Aged 40, Ruth has three children and the person she would most like to meet is the singer Cliff Richard."I love his music and he is my hero,"said Ruth. "I have had an unhappy life but I believe in a little hope. My worst nightmare is losing hope and being alone."

MY BEST FRIEND

When I was born I wasn’t very well
I was loved, everybody could tell
At the age of three
Mum sat me on her knee
What a pleasure it was to me
A few years later I met my stepfather
And from then there’s been laughter
I used to knock the petals off flowers
And dad would sit with me for hours and hours
I knocked nails up the tree
Hoping the fairies would come to me
My dad adopted me when I was eleven
To me it was like the seventh heaven
My dad had the patience because I couldn’t walk
Dad would sit in the sun and we would talk
I thank my dad for what he has done
And I am proud to be his son

Cliff Woodfield, Birmingham, West Midlands