Brought You Onions - Adam Clayton

I brought you onions in my backpack
Sifting through those dry skin pickings
Felt like building our rickety shack
While the sun shines in through beetroot fittings
I picked four pound of pendulous pears
Hung up/lightbulb-ing by the back wall
Our love grows up through minute tears
It’s like this fruit tree – 9 foot tall
We’ll make you jam and chutney too
Not just to share but to give your family
Don’t care if they don’t know who grew
These plants or who it is that owns the tree
I’ll bring you melons and cucumbers out the span
They hang down, engorging daily in the sun
Like this joy, which grows according to plan
Apple, from the day we met you were the one

Adam Clayton

Testament - Richard Fleming

Forget the florid words
and speak in language, commonplace,
of what our brief connection made
of us, our lives, how we were changed.

As for myself, I am enhanced.
For you, perhaps the same is true.
I only know a better man
emerged: a testament to you.

Richard Fleming

A Study, Oil on Canvas (1970) - Julian Clarke

Bohemian, in her semi-nude pose,
Dunhill cigarette impatiently burns
Belying loves truth of white petal rose.

Art of capriciousness in amber eyes
Captures spirit like dancing fireflies,

Lying abandoned, Pucci’s Capri pants,
A chiffon scarf her modesty covered in scant.

Of course her playfulness be cast in part
Cold Excalibur, drawn, pricks crimson heart.

Poets scribe her in gilded lily prose.
Enigmatically the painter flourished
Blood red, on lips, thorn of Baccara rose.

Julian Clarke

Nature - Tony Gardner

It's a wonderful day
with the sun smiling down
Warm breeze tickling leaves
with a soft happy sound
And the tinkling of water
gurgling along
In sweet harmony with
the Lark's joyous song
I know that I'm lucky
and I look forward to
The daybreak each morning
empty and new
When I see by the trees
if the wind's cruel or kind
If the moody old sun
will hide or will shine
Guess I can't hide it,
I'm an old Country boy
And far from the city
is what I enjoy
But I've seen so many
Summers and Springs
Wonder how many more
will this old Life bring
I've been a good boy,
well as far as I could
Slipped a few times
as anyone would
But we all have our time,
and Nature's not Fair
Some have more,
and some less than their share.

Tony Gardner

The Young, The Very Beautiful - Owen Monie

The young, the very beautiful, on days
when sunshine warms the tide-washed azure bays
they make their own,
stride on the sands like emperors of old,
utterly fearless, confident and bold
yet not full grown

nor yet past youth and beauty as we are,
who sit and watch them from our little car
which rarely starts,
with each a bag of chips upon our knee
and battered fish (with extra salt for me)
and aching hearts.

Owen Monie

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