I’ll die in the sea. It’s my birth room. The womb. From which I was born. Roger P. Read 30/4/2019
Author: Chris Goode
Uncertainty 2, by Bob Trinder
She loves me, She loves me not. She loves me But not a lot. She loved me, Though I’m not sure If she loves me Anymore!
Uncertainty, by Bob Trinder
‘I think, so I am’ Well, I’m not sure that’s true ‘Cos the person who’s thinking Just might not be you. You could be a figure In somebody’s dream, You never can be certain Things are what they seem!
One’s lost control – One’s got control! by Marlene Yates
Heavens above, what’s wrong with you? Please get down from the tree, – You’re not impressing anyone – Least of all not me! Your audacious, sad behaviour Makes me wish that you weren’t mine – So stop this silly nonsense Or I’ll end up doing time! When it’s chilly you play outside With your sandpit…
Dead Leaves, by Bob Trinder
Wind, blowing dead leaves, Rustling along the lane like dead souls, Their moisture and shining suppleness gone, Leaving only a desiccated, darkening husk. Wind blowing dead leaves, as I pass by, Reminding me of people I knew, Whose laughter and knowledge Stopped, One day. And, like a leaf, I will be blown, dry and lifeless,…
It is what I do now, by Liisa Strong
It is what I do now Not walk to the familiar door Not turn the key in the locks Not collect the post from the floor Not stop. Instead I walk past the building hurriedly The windows are strangers Wind roars with insidious intent Larks about along the pavement. It is what I do now…
March Newsletter
‘If winter comes, can Spring be far behind?’ (Shelley) Well, here we are in mid-March (nearly), and the promise of Spring is very much in the air. Verges and hedgerows abound with snowdrops, daffodils, violets, and primroses. Creativity is in the air too, and Rich and I are delighted to reflect on the success of…
Pieces of You, by Roger Read
You are not dead ! I have your cells And you are well Absorbed in my body. In my head From a chimeric spell. Twist of genetic fate. A mistake. Nature’s take. About which to debate. I’m One on the outside But we are Two on the inside Where we live and reside. The graft…
Early Morning Crystal River, by Roger Read
Ahead sparkling Jasper, Garnet and RubiesFlickering red and bright.Towards us come Spodumene and DiamondsDazzling and incandescent. All these gems shiningWith a speed that’s indecent.Amber and Citrine light up, implyingA turn left or right.Blue flashing Topaz and Sapphires,Sirens wailingIndicate a jewel’s failing.The red and whiteCells at the heart of the Nation.Flow to their jobs of creation.In…
I Remember, by Fliss Pople
Looking back through the years of people I have known where are they now I wonder how have their lives grown have they found wisdom and realize their dreams can I ever really know how their lives have been Maybe on another day I will understand the way their lives have altered just as they…
Seaford, by Chris Goode
It’s not a seaside town, it’s a town by the sea It’s not much to look at, a bit like you and me, It’s quirky and it’s quaint and it needs a lick of paint. It’s Peter White our famed Town Crier, Shoal Project seating and the Guy Fawkes fire, It’s shrieking gulls and the…
Crumbling Plaster, by Jayne Marshall
A babe awakes grows strong learns from all it sees and hears And as it grows and adds the years Sadly, like crumbling plaster innocence trickles out the once bright mind Held tight to love and laughter Perhaps the joys of son and daughter, Loosens its hold and Sadly, like crumbling plaster The memories trickle…
Armistice, by Mike McBride
I’m the proud heart wheeled out at remembrance. The old campaigner who knows life is tough. Until his spent lungs whisper, “Enough!” And he hears the last charge of the ambulance. I’m a boy killed when a building collapsed, Held by his mother: wracked with despair, Crouched in the gutter, stroking his hair; Beside a…
The Grandure that was Rome, by Mike McBride
THE GRANDURE THAT WAS ROME 338 BCE Lucius Timidus Pusillanimous First plebeian Censor of Rome To Brutus Menace Publius Second Temporary (Acting) Deputy Magistrate Don’t blame me for Rome’s defeat By the puny Latin League. The roads have given me sore feet And wobbly chariot fatigue. And I thoroughly object To the published inference That…
Hang on to Christmas, by Mike McBride
The jobsworths on the Council Are at their tricks again. By solving one small problem They’ve created nine or ten. They were angry at the number Of children missing school To holiday in term time At some foreign swimming pool. The summer dates are all the same And so the prices double. Plus parents say…
