THE WEAKER SEX

Young women wearing glasses

Often make glancing passes

Timid males they do seek

For the match of the week

Smooth words sweet as honey

He trembles like a frightened bunny

Her radiant charm is great fun

Should he linger or just run?

Cool as a TV celeb

She slowly spins her web

He is absorbed with the honey

She starts to weave with his money

Romeo looks for romance

Juliet just loves to dance

He knows it is no joke

To part poor, also broke

The web has been slowly spun

She has allowed him flirtatious fun

He requests another tryst

He is placed on her list

Seated alone in the cab

She says, "The evening has been fab!"

Then she speeds into the night

His wallet feels feather light

The lesson of life

When seeking a wife

Beware the smouldering passes

From pretty girls who wear glasses

Thomas Conlon, Spennymoor

THE BEAUTY OF THE DAY

You opened my eyes to the beauty of the day

The rays of morn, the chill in the air,

The promise of a new beginning, a brand new dawn

The dawn of life, here and everywhere.

You taught me the beauty of the countryside .

The birds, flowers, trees and streams,

Animals, insects, sunsets and dreams,

You showed me what nature really means.

You loved the mountains, the hills and the dales,

The fish in the rivers, the birds on the wing,

The snow falling gently, the wind blowing free,

All of these things you shared with me.

I took it all, all you had to give,

But it wasn't enough, I wanted more than this.

I wanted reality, I wanted stability,

I wanted a life, I wanted reliability.

I wanted more than you had to give,

I wanted a man with whom I could live.

No-one could ever tie you down, not for life,

Child of nature, you don't need a wife.

Maggie Clensy, Spennymoor

IRONED THOUGHTS

Mangled time,

In cow parsley nettle burn

Meadows,

Where I crouch, hide,

As memories, as people pass me by,

Wisps of the past,

Tugs of memory, as grass tangled,

Moss, soft, stirred with the years, As we grew,

Slugs, butterflies, blush pink flowering currant bushes hide, as grown limbs, want to climb trees, run, relive, daisy chains, frolicking carelessly in meadows, under a peaceful rural sun,

But time and history mixes, jealous of the simple glimpse of time, of space the moment,

The cobwebbed wisp is blowing,Trembling like the dust of change,

That makes another time, another day

Alison Carr, Bishop Auckland

MY LITTLE CHERUB I DIDN'T HEAR CRY

Ghosts of the past

Keep returning

Heartache fails to leave

Darling daughter I grieve

Ghosts of the past

Tears flow

Burning constantly deep down

Heart wants to drown

Ghosts of the past

Solace grips

Agony needing to subside

Safe in God's keeping you'll abide

Ghosts of the past

Re-united soon

Angels have no fear

Amy, darling daugher, I'm here

Julie Wilson, Brandon

WHERE HAVE ALL THE COWBOYS GONE?

Watching the telly

The other day

When my mind

Began to stray

Thinking of the cowboys

I watched every night

Shoot out of sight

Bonanza with the Cartwrights

With a lot of gunfights

The Lone Ranger and Tonto

And then there was Bronco

Cheyenne, Paladin and Maverick

Never got on my wick

Ward Bond and Wagon Train

Leading the settlers

Across the plain

Frankie Laine singing Raw Hide

Made me tingle deep inside

Jim Hardie and Wells Fargo

With a special cargo

Gun smoke with Marshal Dillon

All had top billing

Roy Rogers was a bore

But Wyatt Earp

Was quick on the draw

The Virginian Laredo and

The High Chapparal

Whatever happened to them all?

Now I'm sitting here

Watching some Australian soap

Seems to me

I'm a bit of a dope.

Time to switch off now

I feel a bit low

So farewell Pancho and Cisco,

Adios Amigos,

It's time for you to go.

Mike Peacock, Coxhoe

RING, RING

The phone rings, I rush to answer

We don't need any insurance today,

I respectfully say.

Ring, ring, there it goes again,

Kitchens this time, half price,

Sorry, the one I have is quite nice.

Ring, ring, mobiles with pay as you go

This sweet talking woman is saying

No, I reply, I'm not for paying.

Window and door, all kind of things,

Come over my line.

So for the next call,

I'll have some choice droll,

And I'll put it into rhyme.

Elizabeth Sayers, Spennymore