Your poems

Have you ever felt the weight of Christ?

I have - 'twas light as air,

The warmth of Him was wonderful

- knowing He was there.

I carried my precious burden

As a basket filled with eggs.

My body filled with ecstasy

As if I had no legs.

They strew the way with palm leaves,

Called in joyous cries -

They hailed Him Lord and Saviour

But in their hearts were lies.

Later they mocked Him. Oh, how strange

They mock me too - today,

But I hold no hate or envy

As I plod my lonely way.

Great reward in Heaven

The Master holds for me

'Tis a glorious thing - an honour

For a lowly old donkey.

No matter how much weight they put

Upon my aching back

I'll keep right on - I'll not give in

My endurance will not slack.

Who else can boast such glory

Or feel much pride

The day He rode in majesty

Christ chose me to ride.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

The Stained Glass Windows

The shape of an arch,

All patterned in coloured glass,

A work of art and warm magical feeling.

The rays shine through onto the wall,

In the sunshine so bright,

And creative pieces of glass

Make a perfect picture to view.

Many windows in churches so fine

Sun beaming through the windows of time,

For they were made to last and be admired.

Tranquil and beautiful ever changing scenes,

As the sun rises or disappears.

Marvel and wonder at spectacular sights,

Picture such scenes,

Of the craftsmanship and stained glass window delights.

Michael Clarence, Peterlee.

Resurrection

The tree was bare

The sun aglow.

They were aware

The leaves would show.

A warm breeze blew

All the buds grew

Soon there were seen,

Leaves bright and green.

Some high, some low

At the edge some grow

In the centre was the best

There the birds built a nest.

Two birds with twigs and straw

Made the leaves gasp with awe

As they worked with great zest

To complete the cosy nest.

Eggs appeared, one, two three,

The leaves behaved excitedly

At the thought of the nest

With three small chicks taking a rest.

As they waited each in turn

The parents fed them grub and worm.

Soon the leaves heard the sound

Of the chicks flying around.

The months were quickly passing by

Soon the birds would have to fly

Away before the winter storm

To a land where it was warm.

The autumn winds were blowing down,

The leaves changed from green to brown

They in turn would leave the tree

As part of nature's plan to be.

No sign of life could be found

As they floated to the ground

Buried beneath the winter snow

They died, so that the tree would grow.

Thomas Conlon, Kirk Merrington, Spennymoor.

The Carpenter's Hands

The Carpenter's Man - bent o'er His work,

Had hands that were slender and strong

They handled the tools with the confident ease

Of one who had practised long.

And by His side some soldiers lazed

Watching the Man repair

The broken shaft from their cart

That stood within the square.

They passed the time by teasing Him

So solemn did He seem,

As soldiers might - meaning no harm,

But little did they dream -

That some years hence in Jerusalem

They'd meet that Man again,

And tease and mock Him once more

In harsher, crueller vein.

They'd place a crown upon His head

A crown made of thorn,

And jeer - and bid the onlookers

Behold - a king true born!

They'd take Him out unto a hill

And upon a cross hoist high,

They'd pierce those hands so slender and strong

And leave Him there to die.

Henry Barren, Durham.

Sniff Sniff, Who's There?

There is a man with whom I speak

Almost every day.

"Good morning," and "How are you?"

Is all we ever say.

We pass while we're out walking dogs;

My collie, his alsatian,

I tell myself, one of these days

I will start a conversation.

Then, I leave it for another day,

Not wishing to intrude.

I wonder if our canine friends

Would think us somewhat rude.

They have no such inhibitions

As they get to know each other.

Intensive in their greetings..

So, why do we not bother?

But then, if we went sniffing

Beneath each other's tail;

How would you rate our chances

Of staying out of jail?

LP Brighton, Darlington.

The Christening Party

The christening party went quite well.

One person, though, was absent.

The husband telephoned to say

He'd been detained in Kent.

The baby's grandma was incensed

"It's spoilt a lovely day.

"Of all the times in that child's life,

"That man has stayed away."

Her daughter told her calmly she

Was not a bit aggrieved

He also was away the night

The baby was conceived.

Bill Cooksey, Newton Aycliffe.

Spring Song

Spring is here, hey ring-a-ding

(as poets say) and birds do sing

sweet songs of praise and joy and love -

though where I live they mostly cough!

In spring the young men's fancies turn

to thoughts of love - or so they say.

But those I know think only of

the football finals played in May.

Bright rays of sunlight chase away

last remnants of the winter's gloom

and show the time's not far away

when we must re-paper the sitting room.

How wonderful it is to see

the bursting buds on every tree

and, palest green, young shoots of corn -

and dandelions in the lawn.

See, here's a snowdrop, there a crocus.

How long the grass is - hocus pocus!

What's that I've tripped on? Ah, now I remember

Where I left the rake out last November.

Jean Collins, Goathland.

A Bridge So Near

There is a brand new bridge

Of unique design,

That entrances and enhances,

The River Tyne.

It is the Gateshead Millennium Bridge,

Known as the Blinking Eye,

Which when illuminated,

Will light up both water and sky.

It links Gateshead

With its neighbouring city,

Making each side of the Tyne

So bright and so pretty,

A joy to behold,

Is the Blinking Eye,

Opening smoothly

To let the ships pass by.

So congratulations to the planners,

Who thought up the design.

Of that bridge that enhances

And entrances the River Tyne.

Gordon Bannister, Bishop Auckland.