The Monday Poem

My husband came back home and said:

"In future we're OK

'Cos from now on there'll be no chance

You'll get in the family way."

He'd been to have his tonsils out

But too late they had found

That someone accidentally

Had turned the trolley round.

Bill Cooksey, Newton Aycliffe.

Memories of Teesdale

I've travelled many, many miles

Lots of country places I've seen

Dwelt in towns and villages

Explored the moorland, wild and green.

Snow-capped hills surrounded by mist,

The quiet pleasure of summer days,

Heather and gorse in coloured splendour,

Beautiful views that filled my gaze.

Cascading waterfalls, meandering streams,

Coursing down valley to the sea.

I greet its beauty with delight

In awe I view its tranquility.

Many lovely sights all seasons through,

Have pleased my mind, and yet

My thought still cling to the hills and dales

Of Teesdale, memories I'll never forget.

Wilf Harris, Fishburn.

When Venus Williams Won at Wimbledon

She jumped for joy

Leapt in the air

Knew a blessing

Beyond compare.

She became champion

First time ever,

Winning Wimbledon,

Talented, clever.

She held aloft

Way up high

The trophy, nearly

Touched the sky.

Joy unconfined

Freely shown

For never before

Had she known

Victory so complete,

So she jumped and laughed

On dancing feet.

So just imagine

How it will be

When Jesus our Saviour

In glory we see.

Forever and ever

Our praise will ring

For our Redeemer

Our Lord and our King.

Elizabeth Tomlinson, Richmond.

Goodbye

Today, the children of St Augustine's school are rather sad.

Sister Joan, their headmistress is leaving, she's retiring.

So they are saying goodbye to sister

I am sure they are going to miss her.

They want to show their appreciation

For all she's done for the school,

She must have had good days and bad days

But she always kept cool.

She had a special way with the children

She always seemed to know what to say, what to do,

She was always kind,

But she had to be firm too.

To the parents, she was like a sister,

A kind friend,

If they wanted to talk to her

An ear she would lend.

Now they want to wish her, a healthy and happy retirement.

With sunny days and happy hours.

When she can spend the time in the garden,

To admire and smell the flowers.

Emma Thomas, Darlington.

Lilies

During the darkest night when hours seem long

'Tis hard to realise at dawn there'll be birdsong.

That shadows, black and fearsome, at daylight disappear.

What seemed hideous and strange now holds naught to fear.

As the moon begins to rise, God sends his angels down.

When in your darkest hours he sees you're not alone.

Think of the lilies growing in the border bright

They spread their beauty even more when it is night.

The air is perfume laden - how could you feel fear

When God's own lilies of the field are with you here.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

Glorious Mid-Summer

As I sit here relaxed, completely at ease,

Enjoying the comfort of the mid-summer breeze.

I watch in contentment as the young rabbits at play,

Savouring the sunshine, on this mid-summer's day.

As they frolic around the edge of the lake,

I say to myself what a picture they would make.

If only I had my paints, canvas and brush,

I could have painted the rabbits, and also that thrush.

True one can paint whatever one sees,

But how can one paint the sigh of the breeze.

And no matter how hard one may try,

One can never paint the curlew's cry.

But there again, one can always pray,

And thank the Lord for this glorious mid-summer's day.

F Watson, Barnard Castle.

August Sun

I could almost hear him say:

"Come on, come out into your garden

Strip off your armour, that which you call clothes.

Lie back on your lawn and turn your face to me.

Let me soak into your body,

let me darken your fair skin with my golden power."

He knew that I was tempted;

his seduction continued:

"Leave the labour which tugs at

your conscience, forget it.

It will be there when the moon has replaced me.

Soon, when summer is over, you will wish you had me again.

You'll wish, when the winter

winds come to chill, that you

had taken more of me. You will

yearn for me to warm your cold face.

But 1 shall be weaker then.

So come, come out into your garden;

take your fill of me.

Come."

I was persuaded.

Sara Newby, Darlington.

Risking Their Life

It's the first days of the holidays,

The kids are all off school,

Some of them won't be going back,

They're down town, playing the fool.

Riding their bikes on the busy roads,

In front of a bus or car,

I'm sure their fathers and mothers,

Don't know where they are.

They're taking risks while riding,

Their bikes around the town,

Some of them won't be back at school,

A bus will be knocking them down.

And what about the driver,

Of the bus driver who takes their life?

The poor man will be traumatised,

For the rest of his whole life.

It wouldn't have been the child's fault

Their families would say

The driver would have been speeding

When he drove the bus that day.

All you parents out there now

Have you bought your child a bike?

Are they riding it where they should?

Or down town, risking their life?

Joyce Clegg, Darlington.

Tony's Unpaid Spin Doctor

Our pensions are paid out once a week

Then outwards for bargains we must seek.

We gave our all through peace and war

We've nothing left to give no more.

No gratitude is shown now we are old

We are paid in pence instead of gold.

The pension we are paid for giving our all,

Is really an insult as it is so small.

We were delivered through our mother's labours

And thought that Tony would be a saviour.

His lack of judgement and common sense

Made fools of us with his seventy-five pence.

For we fought through war and worked through peace

And took it for granted our troubles would cease.

So read this poem Tony and take note

Before the next time we have to vote

E Askew, Kirk Merrington