Your poems

Though we are past our spring and summer,

And well into the autumn of our days,

Life to us is still one grand adventure,

As we travel on life's varied highways.

We find all our days are filled with sunshine,

We see not a cloud in the sky,

And we can see the rainbow through the showers,

My stalwart companion and I.

Beholding life's garden full of flowers,

We do not count the leaves that may fall,

Wrinkled and withered though they may be,

The tree remains standing, strong and tall.

On occasions we do feel the torment

Imposed upon us by advancing years,

Yet not a cry of pain escapes our lips,

Nor yet the eyes give way to any tears.

We do not require nor demand,

Save that you afford to us your truth,

Together we go forward, hand in hand,

And gladly, we concede to you, your youth.

We see not the shadows of our evenings,

We see the brightness of the starry sky,

And we reflect that we are blessed and lucky,

My dynamic companion, and I.

LP Brighton, Darlington.

Sailing By

The tall ships go sailing by

Slender masts rise up to the sky.

Seagulls swoop and cry

White sails billow in the breeze.

Curving bows cleave the foaming seas

Dolphins leap in joyous play.

As the red sun sinks at close of day

Fog-horns moan the night away.

Lights from headlands flash to and fro

Then I'll take my rest and go

To sleep and then to dream

Of the tall ships sailing the seas

Up and down

Up and down they go.

Mary Ellery, Peterlee.

Trust

When you're surrounded by deep water

and you're drifting on the tide,

When the current seems to be too strong to fight,

He is walking on the water with His hand outstretched to help.

Take hold, take hold, hold on with all your might.

When the darkness seems to deepen and you cannot find the way,

When there is no star to guide the blinded eye,

He is standing there before you, a steady golden light.

He will lead you, He will lead you, He is nigh.

When raging pain torments you, when you can't take any more.

When there seems no salve to sooth your burning fear.

He is waiting close beside you, He is listening for your prayer.

He will clasp you to His bosom. He is there.

When all your friends desert you, there is no one at your side.

When loneliness becomes an aching void.

He is calling to you softly. He is never far away.

Listen and you'll hear His tender voice.

He is Master, He is Shepherd, He is God and he is Friend.

He is all you need to succour and to guide.

He is peace among the tumult, anchor in the storm.

For you He stretched His arms out and He died.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

The Golden Years

Retirement is a time to rest.

To enjoy the things you like doing best.

To look over snapshots of yesteryear,

And maybe shed a happy tear.

A time to travel to places new,

Looking at things from a distant view,

Like fields of wheat with golden grain

And pastures green with yesterday's rain.

And there's nothing so dear as family life,

In this world of trouble, so full of strife.

Thank God for the gift of those extra years,

For making us strong and dimming our fears.

So let us all this bright New Year

Remember every day,

To do our very best to help

Each other on life's way.

Wilf Harris, Fishburn.

Sonic Boom

At the beginning of November,

In 1998,

Woman took a step back,

To a very early date.

A rumbling was heard,

The earth moved in waves.

Nineteenth century women,

Turned over in their graves.

Modern women's lib

Was the cause of it.

They had fought and won

The right to work down the pit.

Silly women's lib,

Men let you win the fight,

Detail dirty jobs to them,

Then you'll have it right.

Females of last century

Had the right idea,

Pretending we're of most import,

And males the inferior.

Dear ancestral sisters,

Rest at peace in death,

Some of us have learned

The lessons that you left.

Use your feminine guile,

Act intelligent or dumb.

Do not accept equality,

Keep men well under your thumb.

Mary Bell, Easington Colliery.

The Burglar

It's great to be a burglar and strut around the town

The world is mine, I am the tops and never wear a frown.

I take just what I want to, there's no chance of being caught

And I don't care a toss, though my victims are distraught.

And even if I were caught, I'd soon get off Scot-free.

I'd have the best of legal aid and all without a fee.

Some day I might get sentenced, There's just the faintest chance.

No fine for me, I'm on the dole and quite without finance.

If I had to go to Wetherby, my mates all say it's great

It won't be long and luxuries are piled up on your plate.

And when I come back out again With sentence almost halved

They'll comfort me with flat and cash, I'll never end up starved.

And when I'm out I'll start again, it's such an easy life

Why work like all the old folks did, Why give yourself the strife?

Mehala Goodladd, Darlington.

On Growing Old

Have you noticed

that as you grow old

your poor old feet

seem to feel the cold?

And your toes appear

to be further away,

so to put on your socks

is harder each day.

The chiropodist now

is a very firm friend,

for his skills are important

as your feet he tends.

There are painful corns,

and long toenails too,

jobs which always

seemed simple to do.

Now you need help

for jobs large and small.

Oh why does old age

have to come to us all?

Betty Robertson, Catterick Garrison.

Sir Donald Bradman

1908-2001

Son of a carpenter, willow never sounded so sweet

Innings may be over, as a batsman, he was complete.

Run up a total, we find impossible to surpass.

Dominant personality, tributes come in mass

Overwhelming, a couple of overs ahead of play

No pretensions, lost someone very special, a sad day

Acute cricketing brain, true symbol of fine sportsmanship.

Legend, has no equal, the memory will never slip

Definitely a genius, his footwork, always swift and sure.

Balance, with a tremendous eye, concentration secure

Records there to be broken, no one will ever touch his

Australian icon, very best, that's the way it is

Driving through the covers, averaged ton, in every three played

Mr Cricket himself, his mark is permanently laid

Awareness, had ability to read the bowler's mind

No one scored more freely, so well liked and extremely kind.

John Neal, Chester-le-Street.