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Those precious Tranquil Moments in our lives are the perfect times for writing poetry. We can sit and
ponder about life, then turn those thoughts into expression in the form of verse.
That’s why so many poems are specifically about contemplation. I doubt that Wordsworth came up with
his immortal line, "I wandered lonely as a cloud" in a hectic moment when he was rushing to dash some
words onto paper.
It’s a poem which describes the true essence of poetry - contemplation of the human condition.
That’s why I’m delighted to present you with the enclosed collection of poetry. In these pages, poets
have put thoughts onto paper for your edification and interest.
I hope that the work within this book reflects for you, the reader, those Tranquil Moments when a
poem makes the journey from birth to completion and finally to being printed and read in the pages
of a volume like this.
Lynda Brennan, Editor
THE BIG TOP
Colourful as a rainbow
And happy as can be
The clowning king of laughter
In the big top circus ring.
Jugglers and acrobats
Bareback riders and tightrope walkers
Breathtaking feats of fear
On the high wire flying trapeze.
All loving creatures of the earth
With varieties of many
The joy and cries of excitement
Of mums and dads and children of all ages.
And when the sun has gone to rest
At the closing of the day
It is time to rest for the day ahead
For the thrills and spills Of the big top.
Jim Carlin
I SOMETIMES WONDER WHY
I wonder why we go to war
Only to defeat our score,
When our troops are blown apart
I wonder why it had to start.
I wonder if they would be better dead
The ones whose limbs are torn to shreds.
I do remember in forty four
The police knocking on many a door,
Or telegram boys bringing the news
Just the sight gave us the blues.
Mums and children sad to hear
Their loved one again will never be near.
Lost in battle, killed or maimed
Are the words that echoed shame,
Shame on leaders who want to win
With little care for their next of kin.
I wonder why at nursery school
So many children with eyes so full,
Filled with tears and stare of sadness
Hoping for a ray of gladness.
I wonder now as time goes by
If those children can really cry.
Peter Henry Hewitt
TRANQUILLITY
Floating away on a sea of green
Lying still amid a summer breeze,
Captured hopes wished along
Cherished like a special song.
Shackles of life cast away
At one with nature in harmony,
Peaceful tranquil senses alive
Cleansed the dusty cobwebs of life.
Enriched in solitude.
Dancing on a drifting dream
Lazily listening to the rustling trees,
Shrouded by a canvas of blue
Aroused by the clean earthy dew.
Memories flooding , caressed senses
Mind at ease, lost pretenses,
Inspired by nature’s serenity
The world’s glory surrounding me.
Enlightens my magnitude.
Martine Gafney
LIFE’S JOURNEY
As I journey through life,
I stop sometimes and ask myself
Am I going on the right way,
Can I find a better path?
Am I worthy of this life
That has been given to me?
Is God pleased with me and
Do I deserve his blessing?
I pray, help me to improve my life
And those around me,
Then God answers and says,
My grace is sufficient for you,
Love me and then all things are possible.
I marvel at his greatness, and
Rejoice as his light shines upon me;
I will never doubt his love
And I will praise his name forever.
Edith Evans
PROTECTED WITH JOY
I’m free, I dream as I open my eyes
To tighten my tie as I walk into work
It’s still the same and I’m getting lame
From making mistakes and being to blame
And for my cherished daily break
I stroll the path that leads around the lake
To my secret place where oaks and heather grows
And the soothing cool brook flows
And I listen intently to its green vibrant song
And I contemplate this moment of peace
Closing my eyes and thinking deep
And my heart opens wide with wonder
And I fly alive over sea and sandy bay
Whirling then swooping down through the clouds
To merge into this dazzling form where I lay
And protected with joy I breeze through the day
Jeff Perry
WAS IT YOU?
Was it you in the garden, just after dawn?
Were your footsteps in dewdrops, traced on the lawn?
Was it you I heard rustling but couldn’t be seen
By the edge of the hedgerow in deep bramble green?
Were you keeping the promise you made at the end,
After parting from life you’d watch over your friend?
For that wren that looked down from the crab apple tree
Had a tilt of the head so familiar to me.
Was the hum of the summertime afternoon haze
You lovingly murmuring memoried days?
Did you paint me this sunset, the salmon pink skies,
And the high mackerel clouds as delight for my eyes?
Was it you with the wild geese flying away?
Was it you taking leave at the end of the day?
Frank Ryding
QUOTES
The wisdom mum told me, remembering what she said,
When I fall into distress the words play in my head,
When I need the strength to keep going on,
The words I remember help keep me strong.
Jotting down quotes from day to day,
When others are speechless, I know what to say,
From Ghandi, Einstein and Mohammed Ali,
Speaking her mind, like Vivian Leigh.
Life is a play, and the world is a stage,
Try understanding and love, no matter what your age,
Open your heart, and it’ll open your mind,
Deep understanding and love you will find.
If everyone understood wisdom and knew what it was for,
No one would have wars and try to settle the score,
An eye for an eye would leave the whole world blind,
Try understanding and love, in your heart, peace you will find.
Michèle Wood
MY MIND’S EYE
Of all the streets I’ve traversed,
Having walked down quite a few,
The one I see, in my minds eye,
Is the one where I met you.
And as I came to know you,
Attracted by your charm,
I felt an aura emanate
Of gentleness and calm.
I’ve ceased to walk the streets,
Alone, there is not any need
For you are my companion,
A loving friend indeed.
As we for many, many years
Walked hand in hand through life,
So happy I to cherish you,
For you were my ideal wife.
The span of life is limited,
I knew we had to part,
Only when I join you,will it
Mend my broken heart.
Bill Austin
NATURE’S LULLABY
Love flows from heart to heart
Loveliness thus pervades
Love penetrates into coziness
Closer and closer soothing
Singing and singing melodiously
To lull the hearts in tranquillity
To awaken the world to see this
Where the union of two hearts
Rejoicing hand in hand
Radiating the faces gracefully.
Love thus flies to heavenly heights
The fragrance of the flowers flirt
The wind entraps itself in the flowers
To uplift their life and to freshen the air
Angels above peep in to view this
Birds and bees hum around for the honey.
What more lovers want when nature emerges
To gather the creation, learn this lullaby
Soothing and soothing sweetly and gently
To sing and whisper with the hearts to sleep.
Anantha Rudravajhala
A TASTE OF IGNORANCE
In awaken memory of an early love
Maggie in my fresh dream I again saw.
Crushing feelings dragged me to remember
The sad and happy times since that September.
Judges were those eyes seeing us together
In empty places only we enjoyed one another.
Her hand in mine out there would be a shame
Maggie and I were too close to blame.
Presence and calls from her native shire
From twilight to dawn wished me aside.
To prevent our shadows side by side
Lies they span into her weakened ears.
Stories they planted from the early start
And to weed me out they worked very hard.
Crushing feelings dragged me to remember
The sad and happy times since that September.
The story with you, please let me share
For Maggie and I, is love neither black nor white.
This perception in that big village, oh dear
She was the pure light and I the darkest night.
Messan Foley
MYSTERY
Life is a mystery
Today is history
Tomorrow is the present
The best gift of all to be opened
Inside lies Hope and happiness
Jacqueline Saminaden
HEAVEN
At the twilight of my life
No heartbeat can be found.
My soul flies on its way
Journeys on homeward bound.
I’m guided through a tunnelled flight
At the end the brightest light.
Brighter than I’ve ever seen
Beautiful, brilliant, oh what a dream.
Departed family and friends
I see All ready there to welcome me.
Joy radiating on their faces
All filled with such perfect graces.
Conversation without a word
Spoken in my head I heard.
Images that I’ve never seen
God speaking, how serene.
All that is taking place
Far beyond time and space.
Fred Ablitt
Dedicated to all dearly departed souls. May they rest in peace. Thanks be to God. Please pray for us. Amen.
Born in Westcliff-on-Sea Fred Ablitt has interests including poetry, writing, motorcycles
and fishing. “Poetry came into my life after sudden inspiration when I was helping my children with their
school work. I had a remarkable dream of Jesus Christ,” explained Fred. “I would describe my style as
uncomplicated, free and easy and I would like to be remembered as someone who brought a positive contribution
to a negative world.” Aged 48, Fred has an ambition to see his poetry in bookshops all over the world. he’s
married to Julie and they have children Michael, Jason, Simon, Scott, Anna-Marie and Elizabeth. “I would love
to meet Jesus Christ because he is my hope and inspiration in everything I do. I would love to be omnipotent
for a day and my worst nightmare is to lose my faith in God,” added Fred.
MAXIMILIAN OF MAGIOVINIUM
Maximilian longed for the end of the tedium
Of his nightly stint in Magiovinium.
Messages for his perusal
Nearly all would incur his wrath
Coming in great profusion,
From Watling Street via the secret path
To where he laboured in lonely seclusion
By the River Ouzel.
Maximilian stood for a winsome while
Savouring his fragrant flowers,
Capturing the enlightening light of the sun.
A veritable human sundial
Numbering none
But the cloudless hours.
Then seated with his beloved scrolls,
Did wonder, ponder, read
His mindful thoughts, to words would go,
Of Marcus Tullius Cicero
If you have a garden and a library
You have everything you need.
Geoffrey Martin
SELENE
O Selene!
Light of the night,
Shape changing light
Moving o’er dusking sky
Through star speckt heavens.
Full and round she comes from the east
Roseate, low at summer’s harvest.
Reflecting light from the vanished sun
Across fields, trees, moor and mountain,
Flooding with pale and ancient mystery.
Slender, sickle shape from the north
She comes sailing in, slight and dainty.
Curved and delicate, and aloof,
Gracious, accepting the triple bows,
The whispered wish on jingle of coins.
Margaret Duguid
THE SNOWFLAKES
Snowflakes, like pale fairies flutter to the ground,
They lay upon the grass and die without a single sound.
Their larger mates invade the trees,
Clinging desperately to evergreen leaves,
Until they also lose their grip
And melt to shimmering droplets drip
Onto the head of a sheltering bird,
Whose startled chirrup is clearly heard.
I long for the sight of childhood’s winters,
Thick white snow and icicles splintered
Cracking when sunlight touched the eaves
And landing on a carpet of dead brown leaves.
Now these poor pale invading troops
Land on a withered rose that droops
And last brave flurry slither and dance
On thin cracked ice, but they haven’t a chance,
Pale snowflake fairies flutter to the ground
They lay down and die, without a sound.
Frankie Shepherd
BRAVERY
Courage far and beyond all that is ever request,
Appaled by bloody visions in war’s torrid quest.
An ocean from home and all feelings held sweet,
Ricocheted bullets that arc in midnight sky’s heat.
A blast miles away that shook the very foundations
Of a fight where his eyes were met with harsh condemnations.
A bristled echo which once nurtured a life to the full,
Then a pain that marched loudly around in his skull.
Days to months he lay watching and waiting with hope,
While friends had gone missing, a lump to his throat.
In fullness of time his bravery even purer than gold,
He was one of the hundreds with a presence so bold.
The memories flash back in his hours of sleep,
He wakes shaking, distressed and yearning to weep
For the men that coming home just wasn’t an option,
Wasted lives washed up on battles beach of flotsam.
Maria Guzvic
Born in Derbyshire, Maria Guzvic has interests including driving (she is a member
of the Institute of Advanced Motorists), travel and the psychic world. “I started writing poetry
seriously five years ago because I wanted a way of documenting liquid thoughts onto paper and I
would describe my style as eclectic, from hilarious to tearful,” she commented. “My work revolves
around words and each poem contains a little piece of me.” Maria is divorced with two children and
three grandchildren and she would most like to meet Charles Dickens, Paul McCartney and John Lennon.
“They incited my love affair with words,” she added.
BRADFORD BECK
When Bradford Beck burst its banks,
rumours spread throughout the ranks.
Every man and boy were called,
to hurry up and build some walls.
Strangers came from far and wide,
to see the raging torrent tide.
Traders had to shut up shop,
because their cellars were awash.
Over time the waters waned,
leaving decorations stained.
They exclaimed "Oh what a pity,
good job British folk are gritty!".
Michael Chwat
A QUIET DAY’S FISHING
A soft undulation, a swell within the sea,
A russet coloured sunrise on the horizon, easterly,
A small, lone fishing boat that gains the early starts,
Makes slightly larger waves as she quietly departs.
The clouds are low and scanty, few and far between,
To show a new-born, new day’s sun, a reddish golden sheen,
Its surface, fragmented and shattered in the haze
To reflect upon the ocean, in ripples, crack and craze,
The sun is climbing higher, the day becoming bright,
The little boat, she throbs along slowly out of sight,
Leaving a ‘v’ shaped backwash to widen and distort,
Until she returns at dusk to settle back in port.
Andrea Gibbons