Wings Appeal

They will not grow old, as we've grown old.

Those of us who can remember.

Those battles in the summer sky, that August and September

When vapour trails wrote history in those skies of blue

By Spitfires and Hurricanes, flown by the Valiant Few.

Refuel, rearm, wait for the call, then back into the sky

Some to return to fight again, some to surely die.

Out of the sun, with blazing guns, the battle to renew

The Spitfires and the Hurricanes of the Valiant Few.

Remember too, those on the ground, all ranks to AC2,

The unsung heroes of the war, the loyal ground crew,

Fitters, armourers, electricians, controllers in the tower

Ignoring bombs and bullets, working through the hours.

WAAF and airmen as a team, with a job to do

Behind the Spits and Hurricanes of the Valiant Few.

Their valour kept the enemy from invading our shores

Their victory gave the nation time to rearm for years of war,

But before the final victory a terrible demand

Fifty six thousand lost alone in Bomber Command.

So buy your wings of paper and wear them with pride

To help the maimed, the blind, the aged and remember all who died.

Don't say: "It's all in the past. It's nothing to do with me.

"I wasn't even born. It's so much just history."

For sad to relate those in need aren't just the few but many

Hospices and convalescent homes need your every penny

And if your coins when on their own look so very few,

Remember when backed up by us all, just what a few can do.

MP Blackwell, Newton Aycliffe.

To The Pitmen Of Horden

As I look from my window each night,

I see Horden pit and the aerial flight,

A neighbour, I'm watching in the dark,

Its statue, the shaft, standing tall and stark.

The light on the top seems to me

Shining over the land and out to sea.

As the wheels of the pit go round,

To take the men deep underground,

I sometimes wonder, do the men know,

As they are taken down below

That across the fields I am there

Kneeling at my window saying a prayer?

Please God, keep them from harm,

As they get coal to keep me and mine warm,

And then when the pit's shut and you've gone away,

I'll think of you all and I'll pray

Every night as I've always done,

For long life and good health to

The men of Horden.

Mary Bell, Easington Colliery.

Another Eden

Don't cry for my country,

Though a gash

Thirty yards wide

Now scars the land.

Man's lust for power

Demands that he threads

High-voltage cables

From the source

To the south.

When facts like these

Meld with my need

To deal in silver,

The evidence suggests

That a quiet conservationist

Is more than happy

To act like Judas.

But near my hut

And the machines I guard

Is an undulation,

From whose gentle summit

The world surveyed

Is another Eden.

This vista extends

From Cold Moor's curve

To Hanging Stone Wood

Past Roseberry Topping.

And across the vale,

Limbs motionless on a rise

Behind hawthorn hedges,

Tranquility is broken

As a two-horse team

Stand nose to tail

Swishing at flies.

Beneath Easby Hill

And Cook's stone obelisk,

My village almost kept secret

From this perspective,

In less than an hour

Shall see my return.

Even through binoculars,

The only sign visible

Of Ayton's five thousand

Is Christ Church spire.

This land is precious

And everything above it

Should rise with grace.

And because I know

That for this stretch at least

The power will be earthed,

There can be no betrayal.

And because of my need

To look from Cook's monument

Over land that has healed,

Take note my creditors,

For I will not guard pylons.

Colin Farrington, Great Ayton.

Aliens Have Landed

Little green terrors, did you come from outer space?

Are you invaders, in a galactic race?

Where is your space ship, I've looked everywhere

Coalhouse and shed, no sign of it there?

Why have you chosen to land on my rose tree,

This was a birthday present family gave me?

So I will call the police and with sirens screaming,

I'll have you locked up and my smile will be beaming.

But the man in the garden centre (with a twinkle in his eye)

Said: "Madam, buy this spray, all you see is greenfly."

Olga Ramshaw, West Rainton.

The Rose Of Paradise

If you were here, my love

I'd pick for you a rose

Dipped by the moon in early dew

But it only grows

In a heavenly garden

By a crystal stream

A beautiful original

Lovelier than a dream.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

Hope

When all seems lost

And the chips are down,

When all laughter lines

Turn into a frown,

When we reach out a hand

And there's nobody there -

Within the loneliness

There's someone who cares.

When there seems no sunshine

Only the rain,

When it's hard to remember

Life without pain,

Just stop and think

There are others like you

That somehow through all odds

They've been carried through.

The turning point comes

When we've reached despair,

When we feel deeply

There's just nobody there

It's when we think all has ended -

That new beginnings are near

When we bravely walk on

And face all we fear.

Marge Mason, Newton Aycliffe.

No More Stabilisers

I learned to ride my bike today,

I never thought I would.

Mummy and daddy encouraged me,

If I tried, they were sure I could.

In May they'd bought me a scooter,

I would ride on that with ease

But two large wheels are harder -

I fell off and grazed my knees.

I got in such a bad temper,

"I'll never be able to ride!"

My parents made me persevere,

Though I wanted to go back inside.

Then one day we would go to Sedgefield,

To buy the papers and bread.

I fell off for the hundredth time

And had a small bump on my head.

I was so frustrated and angry,

I jumped back on in a flash

And head down, I pedalled like fury Twenty metres I rode and no crash.

I thought that mummy was with me,

Keeping the bicycle steady

But I'd pedalled away so quickly,

I'd gone before she was ready.

I heard loud cheering and clapping.

I thought they were calling my bluff.

I had such a shock when I saw them,

I wobbled and nearly fell off.

Next month it will be my sixth birthday.

They've promised to buy a new bike,

I'll ride on it every day - but

I do hope it's a colour I like.

Ciaran Jasper (aged 5), Sedgefield.