The Haunting Gait
of Mr Winter
Footprints crunching on virgin snow,
Stalwartly in North Road Station,
Thomas Munroe Winter repeats
His steps of mundane occasion.
A strange gaunt presence chills the air,
A conjured-up apparition,
Here because of suicide
And not of bizarre volition.
A black retriever by his side,
Trying to materialise
And mark time in an atmosphere
That once engaged their solid ties.
A shot snuffed out his manic head,
This tired-of-living ticket clerk,
They dumped him in a coal cellar,
Hid him away in hacky dark.
They took out his corpse at twilight,
And scrubbed from sight the last red stains.
Then left behind this tragedy,
A ghost whose restless soul remains.
David Coates, Shildon.
Money
Money is more than one item,
We cannot do without it,
We grumble plenty about it,
And it makes people just scowl.
Many things can be bought with money
But there are things it cannot buy
Happiness, health or love,
But many things cannot be done without.
It's the smallest pleasures in life,
That makes it still unable to buy,
For with such a lot in our lives,
Money can make one cry.
It's the smallest price to pay
For little pleasures out of life,
And the greatest reward is
To be able to pay.
So money can be a problem,
If one does not take care of it.
For indeed money is more a problem
When one has none at all.
For we may as well just spend it
While we are alive to enjoy it,
As one cannot take money with them
When they die.
So the moral is,
It does not always pay to
Save for pensions or rainy days.
Michael Clarence, Peterlee.
The Spider
Spider, spider on the wall,
I wish you would die and fall,
I wish that you would disappear,
Never, never come back here.
But I know, and this is true,
That I, myself must deal with you.
So I got a mop and hit it hard
Had I caught it off its guard?
It plummeted, lay on the rug,
A little helpless dying bug.
Then suddenly it ran away,
Lived to return another day.
But it must be crippled, feeling weak,
So I let it go and didn't seek
To find it again that night,
But when I woke I had a fright.
For as I lay upon my bed,
There it was above my head.
I steeled myself for the attack,
Got my slipper, gave it a whack.
It dropped like a duck from the sky,
No more my enemy way up high.
I felt quite bad for after all,
It was nothing but a small black ball.
So, fears, which loom as mountains tall,
Can, in reality be quite small.
And God will give sufficient grace,
Every enemy to face.
Elizabeth Tomlinson, Richmond.
Happy Father's Day
Help is here, whenever I need
A request for knowledge you feed
Played the role exceedingly well
Pieced together, there's so much to tell
You cross the road to put things right.
Faithful, my trust is watertight,
Able to see all points of view.
Treat me like I am part of you
Heal the wounds when I'm in despair
Exercise tolerance, always fair.
Rest assured I'll never forget
Skills taught, goes through the alphabet.
Definitely the best, an asset,
Arms' length you ain't, we're very close,
You're the best by miles, not by a nose.
John Neal, Chester-le-Street.
Mona, A Lady of Social Distinction
She is sweet, and she is kind,
And she is only 84.
She is a lovely lady that lots of people will know.
Mona lives at Bearpark.
Of this she is very proud,
And she's very well respected
To all of us around.
We all love her without a fault,
If you come to the club bingo
You may hear her shout.
We sit there with our aches and pains
The weather outside may be pouring with rain,
Then in she comes with a smile on her face,
Walking stick in hand, 'till she finds her place.
Soon she is seated with her friends at her side,
Ready to play her game with pride.
Her family, I know, are very proud
Because her life has been filled
With her duties all around.
And even now she doesn't stop
She still runs her trips and all her friends flock.
So come folk, let's make a toast,
To Mona Smith for she is the most
And like the words of that hymn
That we all love
(How great thou art)
Goes well with this toast.
Ellen Walt, Bearpark.
Dear Dodgy Trader, Darlington,
It is an awful shame
How your antics do besmirch
This Quaker town's good name.
Your double glazing does not last,
The plastic bends and so
The condensation leaks inside
The place it should not go.
But still you trade with conscience dead,
With silly fools like me,
Rubbing hands like Uriah Heap
With undiluted glee.
But do beware, one day the trade
Will seek to clear their name,
And add you to the list of rogues,
Of traders with no shame.
Les Parsons, Darlington.
Sorry
I'm sorry for the things I say,
And for all the things I do,
For all the times that I upset,
But never meant to do.
I'm sorry for the way I act
Or the things I do to others,
For sometimes the words I use
Are not fit for girls or mothers.
Sorry for the jokes I make
Although they're all about me,
Sorry about the way I dress,
But I'm afraid what will be will be.
Sometimes I wish I was someone else,
If I could I would change today,
Then I could start to enjoy myself,
And never would I have to say - Sorry.
Terry Stockill-Owston, Rillington Malton.
Nana's Poem
Find yourself a place to rest your sleepy head,
May the fluffy clouds be a soft, comfy bed,
We know you're always there,
We know you always care.
And we will never forget you wherever we are,
At night you will watch us while sitting on a star,
For today our hearts are filled with sadness,
Let the day we meet again be gladness,
And let us remember you as the fit nana we all once knew.
Lucy McFadden, South Church, Bishop Auckland.
Expressions
Love is: like a warm blanket
It envelopes you; and keeps you warm,
You feel safe and protected.
Love is: giving, making sacrifices willingly,
Love is compassionate and forgiving.
Happiness is: to be thankful for your blessings.
To look at the good things in life,
At the good people in this world.
To be contented with your lot,
Not to yearn for what you haven't got.
Hate is: like an acid.
It corrodes your mind, it makes you hard,
Selfish and uncompassionate.
Hate is poison, it destroys your soul.
Greed is: always taking, never giving.
Taking people away from others,
Taking materials things, never your time.
To do an act of kindness, they never have time.
Faith is: to believe in the power of God.
To talk to him in time of need and stress,
To thank him when you are blessed.
Emma Thomas, Darlington.
Prayer
Liken prayer to a pure white lily
Scenting the evening air.
Adding an essence of sweetness
For all to share.
Incense from Heaven's garden
Sprinkled on the world.
Thus is the love of Our Father
To those who hear his word.
Sweet is the air of deliverance
From sin cast away.
Blossoms the heart as the lily
At closing day.
Caressed by heavenly glory
The perfumed petals glint.
As gentle raindrops spangle
A moth's wings print.
Liken love to the moon a-lounging
On silken silver bed.
An iridescent splendour
When day has fled.
Night is Nature's prayer time
When hurdy-gurdied day,
Hushes in busy hedgerows
The songbirds gay.
High, high in ethereal heavens
Where all prayer is heard.
The worship of the faithful
Wings like a mythical bird.
Oh virginal breath of the lily
Drift soft as an evening sigh.
Light as the touch of an unseen love
That answers a penitent's cry.
Fran Vincent, Skeeby
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