The Monday Poem

Oh Moses, oh Moses! Whatever did I do,

When I parted the Red Sea and let the tribes pass through?

I look with undisguised dismay upon the tortured world,

Where has love and patience gone? Who listens to my word?

When all goes well I hear few prayers, a few singing "Thank you God,"

But I get blamed for every ill - it really is absurd.

Will they never cease their bickering? Will they ever hear?

I promised milk and honey - they savour gin and beer.

I gave my angels watch to help guide them on their way.

Few ask for assistance, I never hear them pray.

Oh! I have faithful children who struggle upon Earth

To bring to non-believers the truth of my Son's birth.

If I could not laugh I would surely weep at their vanity.

The ceaseless search for riches, their gross insanity.

Only in approaching death do they turn to supplication.

Then they cry "God save me! God help All Creation!"

So I watch in virtual disbelief the endless search for gain.

Oh Moses, Holy Moses! Would I part the sea again?

Fran Vincent, Richmond.

Disturbed Dreams

The moon dipped down and washed her face in a languid rippled lake

The snowy owl flew to his tree before the dawn should break.

With lightning flash the storm awoke the world from sleepy night

Grumbling in fearful crashes, thundering with might.

The moon no longer sought her face in the mirrored lake

She was taken prisoner by the storm's embrace.

He covered her in blankets of grey and purpled fleece

Smashed the quiet waters with hurtling rain and sheet.

The snowy owl took refuge, the fox went to his lair.

The gentle dog gathered her young, down fell the ripened pear.

Round in a spinning spiral danced the first leaf fall

Over the fronds of bracken by the noisy waterfall.

One last crash and all was still, the moon peeped from her shroud

Dared once more to seek her face, casting shadows on the ground.

Soon, soon in winter's curtain call would earth to rock be turned

The last leaves all huddled lie, no mating calls be heard.

Silent moon's journey into space with her bevy of twinkling stars

Floating with ethereal power to Jupiter and Mars.

Empress Lunar rule supreme the winter world is yours.

Stark beauty you illuminate, but hidden, life endures.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

Ridiculous - but true

A young man, a sportsman through and through

Displayed his skills for me and you.

His remuneration for football was so great

The future for him was easily made.

Three years at this and he was made for life

He would never face poverty or indeed strife.

It's like a fairy story that comes true

while the rest of us toil our whole lives through.

Another young man had a different view

He put his life on the line for me and you.

The Forces would be his quest and way

And receive 70 times less for his weekly pay.

This poem tells you things that are happening today

It's not the deserving who get the best pay.

Common sense tells us it must come to a stop

So read and digest this, you men at the top!

E Askew, Kirk Merrington.

Why do Hyenas Laugh?

Why do hyenas laugh?

Has someone told them a joke?

Perhaps someone's tail's on fire

And they're laughing at all the smoke!

Is it the elephants' trumpeting

Or their massive, flapping ears?

Perhaps their trunks look odd

Or their rather oversized rears!

I suppose that long-necked creature

Looks strange, the lofty giraffe.

When I see them at the zoo,

They always make me laugh!

Do they find amusing

The monkeys up in the trees?

Or is it the silly antics

Of hairy chimpanzees?

Perhaps it's the crocodile

With its tremendous jaws,

Or the bird that cleans its teeth

While it's basking on the shores?

The fat hippopotamus

Like a giant Yorkshire pud,

Its eyes just out of the water

As it wallows in the mud?

Have they joined the dots on the leopard,

Painted baboons' bottoms bright red,

Sprayed water on the lion

Or apple-pied someone's bed?

No. I think I know the reason

Why they laugh for all they're worth.

It's their own water-hole reflection

That's the cause of such uncontrolled mirth!

Timothy Jasper, Sedgefield.

Movement

The tide has turned a quick retreat,

Sand dries quickly in the heat,

And blows,

In swirling gusts around my feet,

And further on falls to a pool,

To float awhile - then sink,

While waves of foam come rushing in,

To sweep the pool and all within

Further up the sandy beach,

But never out of reach,

For when the tide has turned again

The sequence starts once more - the same.

David Graham, Long Newton, Stockton.

The Lady from Peru

Young Yma Sumac

Her gift unique and new

Came forth to the world

To bewitch me and you.

Maiden of the Andes

The jungle her domain

She learnt her art by listening

To the sounds from there within.

A descendant of the Incas

Her beauty fresh and real

A delegation came from Lima

To offer her a deal.

So to the States she went

In the midst of Hollywood

She enthralled them at the Bowl

In a way that only she could.

Unheard of sounds that she

Produced, the octaves unbelievable

But for this young lady

Oh well, really quite conceivable.

Many were her recordings

Her art they did extol

As she continued to delight

Her admirers in heart and soul.

A voice that sang of ritual

Volcanoes love and creatures

The wind, rain, sun or moon

All of them her teachers.

Comely songbird from Ichocan village

Yes, a vision to display

She portrayed a woman of mystery

In her own land called Xtabay.

Peter Hanley, Ferryhill.

The Hypnotist

The stage was set. The drums announced

The last act of the show.

The curtain rose, the man came on

And gave a gracious bow.

His stage name was Senor Sanchez,

The Master of Hypnosis.

In fact he came from Stoke-on-Trent.

His name was Sydney Moses.

Tonight, my friends, I'll demonstrate

The power of the mind.

But first I'll need some volunteers

So if you'd be so kind".

Twelve people from the audience rose.

Six women and six men.

They sat in chairs in one straight row.

The Senor said: "Now then,

My friends, I'll wave my hand like so

And when I do you'll sleep.

You'll hear my voice, you'll feel no pain.

Your senses you will keep.

But when you hear each clear command

One thing I must impress

Before you do the thing I want

You'll shout out loud "Oh, Yes".

To each one of his volunteers

The Senor gave commands.

They stood up straight, they sang out loud.

Some stood upon their hands.

The climax came. The drums rolled out.

This was the thrilling bit.

But in his haste Syd tripped and fell

And cried out loud "0h, s....t!"

With one accord his volunteers

Jumped up and shouted "YES".

They stopped the show because it took

Three hours to clear the mess.

Bill Cooksey, Newton Aycliffe.