Is it Little Suzie?

I remember Suzie,

Supposedly my mate

She'd nick soggy tomato sauce-drenched chips

From my dinner plate.

She always wore grey-white socks

For school, for play, for bed

By golly that girl really

Got into my head.

Whenever we were naughty

It was always blamed on me

I was sent back home to bed

Without any tea

If she wasn't looking

I'd pull her dolly's hair

Stand laughing behind her back

Without a single care

I'd draw whiskers upon her chin

Whenever she fell asleep

In chisel-top black marker

Her beard meant for keeps

She'd cry again for sure

Should dearest dolly go astray

Such cunning plans for it I had

On dustbin empty day.

Julie Wilson, Brandon

SPRINGTIME

Springtime is here again

How quick it comes around!

The days are getting longer

The trees are in bloom,

and who can resist the pretty carpets

of daffodils on the ground?

The birds are up early in the morning

And sing their cheerful songs

I love to hear them sing

And want to join along.

What about the newborn lambs

Out in the pasture with their mothers

Skipping, running, jumping with a spring

Watching them, I feel like I'm thirteen.

The yellow, fluffy, newly hatched chicks

Out in the farmyard

Following their proud mother hen

They look so innocent and sweet.

The spring sunshine does miracles

Everything comes to life

Nature wakes up

We feel so glad to be alive.

Emma Thomas, Darlington

BARNARD CASTLE CIRCULAR

Scartop, behind the church, next to the castle

Where in summer there may be hassle

Walk on down the lane, for 500 yards

Vast open space, country is now on your cards.

Venturing down into the wood

Where men and pigs once stood

Trees with arms outstretched

Bark with patterns, messages etched.

The Tees meandering, gently swirls

Music in the air makes me twirl

Sheep with lambs in the field

One or two they did yield.

Cotherstone, one spies a bench, a seat

Upon which to sit and lunch eat

Returning now on the other side

Walking high, with river wide.

We come across a house with extension new

Through the gate, a lawn, a bench, a pew

But what's this, to one side a stile

Why this diversion, will it add a mile.

Surely a footpath as old as this

Should not change and beauty miss

The wind now blows us back home

Refreshed, renewed and free again to roam.

Sandra Moran, Darlington

THE COBWEB

I saw a shining silver necklace

Hanging in the sun,

Diamonds sparkling on it

As if by magic spun.

It looked so lovely

Did my eyes deceive

That this was just a spider's web

I could scarce believe.

It was so delicate

Yet intricately made,

Woven in the darkness

Of the early morning shade.

Spiders are so clever

Such patterns secretly to weave.

So I praise The One

Who creation did conceive.

We too were woven

In the secret place

Carefully, wonderfully

In that special space.

And each one was known

Before the world began,

Those specially chosen

Every woman, every man.

Elizabeth Tomlinson, Richmond

PALS OF YESTERYEAR

Just an old school photograph

I found in a draw

It took me back 60 years or more,

I realised it to be quite a find.

With those old school pals

Looking up at me

Every face brought back to mind.

A classroom photo

As our leaving day came,

Ready to enter the outside world,

In which to find our fame,

Some remained in their village

Others travelled afar,

Now we are all retired,

We reminisce with a beer in a bar.

Gordon McCallum, Bowburn

At The Club

Saturday night beams out

A singer screaming in the shadows

Punters hang on every word

Racing glory

Football stories

Parade from room to room

Sometimes different images

Portray a sister or brother

Father and mother

A family of friends

In conversation

on a dance floor

Playing pool

Bodies wriggle

Voices giggle

"Last orders," shouts the man

Blue shirts, bearing badge

Mine's a double

Pints or shorts

The barman snorts

Cajoling members

Reluctantly drift

A sea of faces

Mask a darkened street

Banter wanes

Pavement stains

Bernie Wals