SOFA(R) SO GOOD

I switch on the TV and observe these sofa adverts

Showing little sofa people trying to sell us seating sure certs.

They look as if they undergone a cosmetic height reduction

Trying to convince us viewer’s seatings best thing since liposuction

Curled up or flat out nestling in the leather

Resembling little door-mice asleep in soft green meadow heather

The pose of them looking cool, hip and informal

No joy for six foot buyers alluring as height normal

There are other offers involved in this nationwide advertising claim

But I feel like ending their sales campaign with naked blowtorch flame

4 years free finance, no deposit down, with the cheapest recliner in any sofa town

The sofa industry? Has taken over our world led technology supa crown

The biggest let down is that the package being put up for sale

Fails to supply armchair seats for size 18 svelte sophisticated female

So don’t get enveloped into this subliminal illusion

The old sofa’s just as comfortable in the overall confusion.

Alan Reed, Darlington

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY

Money is the root of all evil,

But moves the wheels of industry

That helps the world go round.

The poor have plenty grit

And can be very proud

But who would rather have a penny,

That would refuse a pound.

When you have lots of money,

How often is it said

Money is not everything,

But it buys a loaf of bread.

Your health is more important

All the wise men say,

But when you have money

It can keep the cold at bay.

Big cars, big houses,

They certainly impress.

You can tell who hasn’t got it,

They are financially depressed.

If you think I’m being snobbish,

That money makes for class.

If it’s not in your upbringing,

Then perhaps the word is flash.

I don’t have any money,

But work hard for my pay.

It’s the lottery I rely on

To make me rich one day.

Alistair Cameron, Darlington

THE GOLF COURSE TREES

A beech tree on the golf course at Bishop Stands near the 12th tee.

In years gone by it would have been Of outstanding beauty.

Its branches now all twisted and gnarled, Stretch high into the air.

She’s got scars and lumps all over the place

But has a good head of hair.

On her face there are holes like big black eyes

And a huge knob for her nose.

A wry smile, a large stomach

And lumps and bumps on her toes.

I’m sure through life she’s had many woes.

As we tee off, we have a laugh,

But we’ll miss her when she goes.

Nearby is another gorgeous beech tree,

With warts all over her face,

But with a full head of golden hair

It gives her a figure of grace.

There are oaks and birch trees all around,

Their golden bronze leaves falling to the ground.

Soon they will have shed their leaves

And be completely bare.

All through winter they’ll stand around

Swaying in despair.

But in spring they’ll have a new set of clothes

And can hold their heads up with no fear.

They will be fully dressed,

Ready for another year.

Diana Davis, Witton-le-Wear

STRIPED ASSETS

In Gaza City at the Marah Land Zoo

There’s been a crisis and quite a to do.

‘Cos two zebras died and the company chased

Ideas about as to how they’d be best replaced.

“I’ve go an idea,” said one bright spark.

“We’ll come back tonight when it’s really dark

And paint two donkeys black and white.”

“That’s great,” said the owner, “as money is tight.”

And so the dastardly deed was done

And next morning they dried off in the sun

But nobody heard the weatherman say

That it would pour down during the day.

And the rain watered down the cheap water paint

Making an ass of the donkeys and the stripes very faint.

Bedraggled they stood in a not so nice scene

In a black and white puddle in a field verdant green.

So sorry they felt for each other They couldn’t even bray

Especially when they saw they Were an awful shade of grey.

Then another bright spark had another idea

And said: “This one won’t fail, it’ll cheer.

“We’ll invent a rare creature that’s been hidden for yonks

“And we’ll introduce them as zeebonks.”

And visitors came from far and wide

To see these creatures brought from the wild.

But one little lad said thoughtfully: “I don’t know about you,

But I’m sure they’re just painted donkeys

And there’s two short in the zoo.”

Joyce Crawford, Darlington

NO MORE

It was a rose, a red, red rose

That they threw on your coffin

When you returned from the war.

It was a rose, a red, red rose

But you, my love, are no more.

Judith Lesley Marshall, Richmond