THE KILLING GAME
War games, they’re what politicians play,
We see it on the telly day by day,
In freedom’s name they order
their troops to kill,
They show no shame for
the innocent blood they spill.
We see the hungry children on the screen
Destruction and death where the men of war have been,
Midst the bodies of the dead
they speak of peace,
Will the day ever come when their
obscene wars will cease?
Within the church the candles for peace still burn,
We are made in God’s image,
to Him our faces we turn,
For God is love,
destruction and death He abhors,
God’s will is peace,
He despises men’s endless wars.
“Father forgive them”,
the crucified Jesus cries,
But the men who make war have
a blindfold round their eyes,
They cannot see
the graves of the innocent dead,
Nor the children whose mothers still
weep where blood runs red.
We pray for hope to overcome despair,
For the songs of angel voices to fill the air,
For the candles to burn
in the darkness of the church,
For the world to be blessed with that
peace for which we search.
Rev John Stephenson, Sunderland
PLAY ON
The big wheels are no longer turning
The tubs are laid to rest
Now filled with flowers in the park
Instead of the black coal from the pit.
All the ponies are gone now
There may be one or two
Dotted around the country
In museums or pastures new.
What of the miner who worked
All manner of hours and days
Walking in the street in his cloth cap
You’d spot him a mile away
With banners flying and sounding brass
These old men have had their reunion day
When to Durham’s hilly streets
Once more the bands did play.
Elizabeth Sayers, Spennymoor
WE LEFT WHEN…
We left when fading evening sunshine cast
Lengthening shadows through the pier, darkening fast
Over a seashore carpet of hard, unyielding pebbles
Soon to be washed by the incoming tide on varying levels.
This tranquil ending to our fun-filled day
Will stay in our hearts as we wearily wend our way
Homeward, one pebble in hand, surely not missed
While on my bedroom windowsill it sits.
Constance Culley, Darlington
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