PARENTS

I'll never see my Mam again,

She's gone to join my Dad,

I keep their picture on the shelf,

In order to remind myself

Of special times we had.

If life malfunctioned, Mam was there

For solace and support.

When all looked desolate, how much

Her empathy convinced me, such

Devotion cant be bought.

Then, Dad; the rock; so tough and strong.

And yet, his children's friend.

He laboured long, below the ground,

To keep his family safe and sound.

On him we could depend.

They're gone forever, how they're missed.

Without them, all seems black.

When they were here, life was sublime,

I'd give the world to counter time

And have my parents back.

Ken Orton, Ferryhill Station

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

Walking in the countryside gives great pleasure

Taking in the radiance and beauty of fields and skies

You bide your time and walk with unhurried leisure

Absorbing the fragrance of outdoor life with both eyes

Reminiscent of the thought of winning the great first prize

Walk with admiration, take in the smell of every flower

Drink in the nectar of the neighbouring active bees

And give praise to God their maker for his great power

Harken to the buzzing noise through the leafy trees

The rain drenched insects, for the birds to devour

Search for those exciting, hidden, precious things

Fumbling in the long green grass on bended knees

They do not have to be gold or silver rings

Hoping and expecting to find a relic object to please

Think lovingly of the joy of life a walk like this brings

This fine sunny day as I slowly walk with great pride

I am alone taking my time, no one by my side

Breathing in pure fresh air in this great world so wide

But now that my long journey is at last over

I will trudge back home through fields of daisies and clover

John Joseph Quinn, Bishop Middleham

DARLINGTON & THE DALES YOUTH ORCHESTRA

I've been in the D.Y.O. for a year

And it's filled my musical life with much cheer.

First day, I walked through the door, said, "Hello",

As I struggled in with my Zeller 'cello.

I was made very welcome by all in the hall,

A shared love of music, a factor for all.

Chris introduced me and showed me my stand,

Which I shared with Penny, on my right hand.

We launched into Schubert, Symphony Three,

Third Movement, quite a challenge for me.

I needn't have worried, the conductor was great

(And soon pointed out when I came in too late!)

Three and a half hours passed in a flash.

I really enjoyed it - we played with panache.

The break at half time was a good chance to meet

Other players and chat and have something to eat.

We also played Haydn and Mozart that day.

The sound we produced was quite rich, I must say.

We have fiddles and flutes, oboes and brass,

Timpani, trombone, horn players; first class,

Double basses, violas, bassoons and lots more,

All watching the baton, we play through the score.

St Cuthbert's Church Hall is the place where we meet.

Our rhythms will soon have you tapping your feet.

Bows flying furiously over the strings,

Fingers so dextrous, you'd think they had wings.

Cheeks puffed out as mouthpieces are blown,

As if serenading a queen on her throne.

Fortissimo sections with great crescendos

And controlled pianissimo diminuendos.

We've played at Brancepeth and Askrigg Church too,

In t'Swaledale Festival but, mind you,

The trip up to Edinburgh was really the best,

(At the festival there, I expect you've guessed.)

So come listen to us, if you have the time

And I promise you music that's just... sublime.

Tim Jasper, aged 13, Sedgefield

DAY DREAMS

I see him jog past my window every day,

He's strong and tanned, athletic in every way,

I think he must play football, or cricket with a bat,

I know he's not a boxer, too good looking for that!

How I wish I was seventeen, to join him on his run,

We'd take the road in any weather, it would be such fun.

He might say we'll take a walk when the sun is done.

Down the hill along to river to where the fishes flee,

And cows in meadows munch their cud

We will walk in daisies you and me.

Over the little bridge across the mill stream,

Hand in hand we'll walk together as we did at seventeen.

Up the hill then, back home again.

Elizabeth Sayers, Spennymoor

FOUR SIDES ONE SOUND

I listened to the West, to hear it best,

but no sound.

I listened to the East, to hear it least,

but no sound.

I listened to the South, to hear the mouth, but no sound.

I listened to the North...ern...echo.

E Reynolds, Wheatley Hill