Reservoir - Stephen Rowe

By the reservoir
In fading light
We walk amongst the gnarled trees
On the banks of a silver sea
Poles like grey steel pylons
Felled in the twilight
By ancient monsters
Who flicked them over
Into tangled bars
That held us on the water’s edge
Struts beneath tree trunk bridges
Reach out from the bank
To the shiny haze spanning the lake
Where ghosts walk in the misty evenings
And birds call from shore to shore
Where the forest is deep with bluebells
Leading into their caverns of canopies
Of fir and cedar in owl light
Half-light streams of hyacinths
Draw us in
To secrets hidden in the depths
Overseen by knotty arbour arms
And woody Abies cones
Like beacons sending signals
To the mystery world
Of ethereal nature
To let them know we’re here
And part of the balance
And the flow
And the stretch of all things
Earthly and surreal
In timeless order
In life

Stephen Rowe

Propaganda - Lyndon Queripel

"So, what is propaganda ?"
I asked with a sigh
"It’s adnagaporp spelt backwards."
Was your quick-witted reply
"I thought everyone knew that."
You said as you put on your hat
And then smiling waved goodbye

Lyndon Queripel

A Mother’s Hips - Trudie Shannon

Small children
Have legs, that
By right, embrace
A woman’s hips.
Women, by right
Have hips
That are
Safe places
For small children.

Trudie Shannon

The Cobra - Richard Fleming

The cobra can’t resist a tune
so when the Charmer blows his flute,
to make the notes rise in the air,
the cobra stirs and follows suit.

It is a most amazing sight:
the tourists clap and toss rupees
while others, far less prosperous,
remunerate with loud whoopees.

Majestically, the cobra sways
from right to left, then left to right.
Applaud it, even if you’re bored:
it’s always best to be polite.

Richard Fleming

Boris Brontosaurus - Oscar Milde

Boris, Boris, Brontosaurus,
crashing blindly through the forest,
hair askew, complexion pinked,
destination indistinct,
doesn’t know that he’s extinct.

Oscar Milde

Land of Hope and Glory - Marcel Le Clerc

They call this the land of hope and glory
Another 4 years
Another world cup
This time it's going to be a different story

The planets are aligned
It's written in the stars
We gave the world the beautiful game
Now's the time to take back what is rightfully ours.

The three lions are going to roar
Kane is gonna score
We're going to beat the unbeatable
Defeat the undefeatable
And become kings of the world once more...

ENGLAND !

Marcel Le Clerc

See Marcel read his poem here on Youtube.

First Date, Last Date - Stephen A. Roberts

he's excited about tonight

an assignation in the city

there will be girls there

and boys too, he doesn't care

he stares into the mirror

smiles, neatens his hair

arranges his new stuff

it's all now ready to wear

the future's looking bright

he's dressed to kill tonight


Stephen A. Roberts

No More Monkeys - Diane Scantlebury

They’ve torn down the trees
That held the ground,
And built concrete castles
For human pleasure,
Now not a single monkey
Can be found,
Cause they’ve displeased
The gods of leisure,

They’ve ripped up the coral
From the sea
Against the locals’ wishes,
Shipped in tons of sterile sand
And killed all the beautiful fishes,

They’ve put up fences
And posted a guard,
Access for ‘residents’
Everyone else barred,
Paying guests only on the beach,
Leisure for poor locals
Now out of their reach,

No more trees,
No more sound,
No more monkeys in this town,
Now that the golden sands
Are out of reach,
There’ll be no more monkeys
On the beach!

Diane Scantlebury

Testimony Of Jean-Jacques Le Page - Tony Gardner

My name is Jean-Jacques Le Page, I wish my confession be read
For now I am withered with age, and I wish to die pure in my bed

On a June day fifty years gone, when the clouds dreamed across the blue sky
And the wild roses drank the warm sun, on the headland walked Paulette and I

So often we paused and embraced, we were young and our ardour was strong
Fearing not disapproval we faced, for we knew that our families were wrong

Paulette was not of my faith, and not from an old Guernsey line
While my family tree we could trace, right back to the Conqueror's time

Yet purely we loved and time passed, until was selected for me
A bride of a far higher caste, I was charged that was how it should be

Then Paulette's family was told, to keep her well out of my way,
By those too blind and too old, who thought us just children at play

So that day in the warm summer sun, on the high southern cliffs we stood there
Where the gorse glows and wild rabbits run, we held hands and leapt into the air

I was caught by a tree near the top, she was torn from my grasp with a moan
And treacherous fate took the life, that I treasured much more than my own.

A passer-by rescued and found me and thought we had both slipped and fell
My family were glad I was sound, thinking privately all turned out well.

So I married the one that they chose, and for forty years kept up the sham
Now my wife and my parents repose, and I want to regain who I am

Soon I'll pass to that far distant shore, where Paulette will be waiting for me
And things will be just as before, The way that God meant them to be

And so says Jean-Jacques Le Page.

Tony Gardner