Spring - Tony Gardner

As the seared and shriven flora
Grows to new exciting days
Warmer waves give birth to budding
Celandines in golden haze

Then wild and happy daffodils
Spread carpets there for us to see
And give Glory to the season when
All Life seems fresh and free

Hiding their shine in woodland
And under every tree
Is the shy, sweet smile of primrose
But it's there for all to see

Deer and badger, fox and woodmouse
All these creatures feel the rise
Of the temperature as Winter
Imperceptibly dies

All the golden springtime flowers
Cheer our hearts as Winter wanes
Raising hopes of Summer's glory
After Winter's wind and rains

Tony Gardner

Another precious year - Tony Bradley

Those hot, hazy days seem so distant now
bright blue skies, even the winds were warm,
and the sun slept little from its scarlet set
to another bright morning, a dazzling dawn.

But the sun soon slumbered, slow to rise,
and golden leaves glistened, jewelled by night's rain,
falling, twirling, they waltzed to Autumn's wind
leaving bristling bushes to face Winter again.

Now, frosty breezes begin their toil,
crispening a crust to slumbering soil
soon, plucky bulbs will peep, and the dark, stark trees
will herald Spring, again, with little green leaves.

Tony Bradley

The Isle With The Emerald Sea - Ian Duquemin

I sat on the sand on the edge of our land
And listened to seagulls a-singing
The hands of the church clock reached some unknown time
And the bells woke our world with their ringing
They reminded me then, of the home I once had
A home that once bragged of its beauty
Now all that is left are the memories I have
Of the isle with the emerald sea

The town comes alive with its cafes and bars
Where languages speak without meaning
I walk on the cobbles I walked as a child
Who thought that I'd still be a-dreaming?
I never believed that this change would have come
They shouldn't have stolen her beauty
Now all that is left are the memories I have
Of the isle with the emerald sea

I find me a seat, take the weight off my feet
And watch as the sun's slowly sinking
It seems many years since it burned in the sky
I wonder just what they were thinking?
We once had it all 'til they let it all fall
They just wouldn't let us be free
Now all that is left are the memories I have
Of the isle with the emerald sea

Ian Duquemin

The Cyberseas - Kathy Figueroa

I traverse the cyberseas
Where words surge, eddy, and flow
Daydreams fill skies above me
Nightmares lurk in depths below

I crest waves exultantly
And skirt whirlpools that appear
Navigate through glitch-filled storms
That rage in the cybersphere

An intrepid traveler
I long to keep on learning
The need for discovery
And knowledge keeps me yearning

And so, like a mariner
Or adventurer of old
I sail in search of treasure
One that’s far greater than gold

Kathy Figueroa

Retirement - Jenny Hamon

Retirement, oh how absurd
I’m far too young, it's just a word
Although it's just another year
The dreaded date's arrived I fear

Retirement is for the old
Who quietly slip into the mould
Of endless days and aimless ways
Of sitting in a fuddled daze

I'm not that old, you hear me cry
I'm still alive, not ready to die
I can't resign to the mindless doom
Of sitting in God's waiting room

I'll take these days to live life to the full
By taking on the horns of the bull
I have my mind and health and strength
So I'm going to live and spend my wealth

No time to write more poetry
With so much of the world to see
No, I'm not sitting on the fence
I'm spending the kid's inheritance

Jenny Hamon

The Wrong Message - Tony Bradley

Crownhill Wolf Cubs had all met in the park
to play some cricket, on a sunny day
Akela and our leaders hadn't arrived yet
So the boys decided they'd start to play.

A gang of boys from the estate turned up
and they started grabbing our stuff
our biggest boy, Peter, warned them who was coming
but then they just got even more rough.

Then Akela and our leaders turned up
the yobs pinched our bats and scurried away
Peter's nose was bleeding, we were angry
as our leaders listened to what we had to say.

Our leaders ran after them, caught them quick
Blimey, we thought, they're going to pay
but we had a funny feeling, the yobs are coming back
our bloody 'heroes' have asked them to play!

Six of us went home, sod the cricket
we left the club, throwing away our toggles and socks
"Where's the leader?" I hear Baden-Powell scowl
and Rudyard Kipling would squirm in his box.

This tale's about values betrayed, and religous twaddle
kids are taught to, mindlessly, do that and this
it sadly turns out, when it comes to the crunch
children's leaders, behind false morals, are as weak as piss.

Tony Bradley

Winds Of Time - John Carré Buchanan

The Fulani knew my power
as hunched against my breath
they drove herds in search of pasture
that I’d not smothered yet.
You call me Harmattan,
though that is not my name,
for I was here before you
before the desert came
and when your bones are naught but dust
I will still remain.

The Clatsop knew my warmth
as I swept the mountain slopes
I melted snow before me
and bought false signs of hope.
You call me Chinook
though that is not my name
for my clouds enriched sunrise
before the dawn of man
and they’ll brighten western skies
when your last race has run.

Columbus and Magellan
thought they'd harnessed me
as they navigated oceans
in search of destiny.
You call me Trade Winds
but that is not my name
for I blew before the ocean's birth
when a mighty rupture came
and I'll be blowing still
when land joins land again.

I helped shape mountains,
I swept the plains between.
From ice cap to desert
I sculpted the terrain.
I breathed, before life,
before little pools of green,
before cells came together
to crawl out from the sea
and I was here a long, long time,
before apes climbed in the trees.

Yet even I will perish
as time alone survives,
for this planet will crumble
scattered amidst the skies
it's atmosphere burnt off
carried on cosmic winds.
Our atoms will float
through a universe sublime
waiting to be born again
in the ebb and flow of time

John Carré Buchanan

Too Cold to Diet - Diane Scantlebury

It’s too hard
When times are boring and quiet,
To find pleasure in salad
Or stick to an uninspiring January diet,
Impossible to stay dry
When it’s too cold to think,
And the only thing that’ll give comfort
Is to consume stodge and to drink,
Resolutions evaporate
In the blink of a feeble eye,
With the aroma of a heart warming stew
Or difficult to resist, hot apple pie,
Rocky is the road and sticky is the toffee
That will scupper our intentions to become slim,
Unrealistic is the goal and inevitable the knowledge
That come month end,
We’ll have all given up and given in!

Diane Scantlebury

Life's Journey - Ian Duquemin

We make the road with the steps that we take
This journey is ours with the choices we make
The paths are the detours that lead us astray
Though none of them mean you have gone the wrong way
It's just an excursion, a trail or trial
A trek where you learn with each added on mile
Where some like to walk in directions unknown
Enjoying the journey alone

Ian Duquemin