La Roque Lane - Tony Gardner

In the nooks  and  the  corners  of  La Roque  Lane
Images,  memories  ever  remain
That  was  where  my  education  was  gained
In  the  soft,  mossy  corners  of La Roque Lane

There  I  learned  about  women,  much  as  a man  can
For  ladies  are  ever  so  not  like  a  man
Of  what  we  discovered  they  did  not  complain
While  learning  our  lessons  in  La  Roque  Lane

There's  a  green  shaded  corner in  La  Roque Lane
That  sweetly  and  softly  will  ever retain
Mem'ries  of  youth  and  of  young  love  that  died
Life's  lessons  learned  as  we  laughed  and  we  cried

And  though  I  am  happy,  content  with  my  life
And  deeply  and  dearly  in  love  with  my  wife
Sometime  I  dream  of  those  bright  days  again
In  that  green quiet corner  in  La Roque  Lane.

Tony Gardner

Image : Pixabay - JACLOU-DL

1967 - Lyndon Queripel

What happened to the flowers
You used to wear in your hair
Now you have grey streaks there
What happened to the people
That so long ago it seems
All shared the same dreams
The heaven of nineteen sixty seven
A summer of love and peace
When the young were so strong

Were the days of freedom
Just numbered on charts
A club of only lonely hearts
Tomorrow may never know
But if it was guaranteed
Would the blossoms go to seed
The heaven of ninety sixty seven
For me the music was the key
But things got strange, began to change

There was something in the air
Do you recall before the fall
It just transcended it all
Life was dear and love was free
But without a shadowed doubt
The spirit has been all sold out
The heaven of nineteen sixty seven
A promise of skies to kiss
Words were spoken and then broken.

Lyndon Queripel


Image : Pixabay - keaton

Piste Off - Stephen A. Roberts

Oh to be in the ski-lands again 
Riding the crisp white; 
Tiny toy villages below 
 
Then down through the corduroy; 
Dark pines and white blanketed 
Alpine pasturelands 
 
Snaking under the clanking gondola 
Where smells of gluhwein and schnitzel 
Signal awaiting cosy comfort 

Stephen A. Roberts

Image : Stephen A. Roberts

Christmas Toys - Edwin C. Ranck

Say, I like toys,
    Christmas toys.
Remember when we were boys
    Long ago?
Then you were a kid
    Not a beau.
And on Christmas Day,
    Oh, say,
We got up in the dark
    And had a jolly lark
Round the fire.
    The cold air was shocking
As we peeped in our stocking--
    And, way down in the toe,
Now say this is so--
    Dad placed a dollar.
Made me holler.
    Yes, sirree,

They were good to me.
    Remember Jim?
Mean trick I did him.
    You know Jim was surly?
Well I got up early
    Took his dollar out,
And put a rock
    In his sock.
Gee, he was mad,
    Went and told dad;
But dad he just laughed
    And said:
Might's well be dead
    If you couldn't have fun.
Then for spite,
    I kept that dollar 'til night.
Funny, seein' these toys
    Made me think of us boys.
But now, Gee!
    Christmas ain't like it used to be.

Edwin C. Ranck

Image : Pixabay - rosecoutre0

Another Island - Stephen A. Roberts

I grew up on another island
With the mackerel man and his evening shouts
Down quiet roads we rode our steeds 
Through the gorse and fern-swathed land
To the beaches pure and empty
And the smell of sea-washed sand

The past is another island
Sepia toned and fishy boned
Limpet mines and limpet crabs
Winkles in a canvas bag
Doors unlocked
Ships on the rocks
Craning in at the
Old White Rock

Stephen A. Roberts

Image : Copyright Pete Davies

Life Before Hummus - Joan Etoile

Imagine life before hummus
No olives and flatbread
No tapas or leaves
Nor ready cut veg

Fruit in their season
Then made into jam
No salami or chorizo
Just tins of spam

No more macchiatos
Back to dried tea
From India or Sri Lanka
Ceylon formerly

Tinned pineapple appeared
But just for the Queen
Mangoes and avocados
Had seldom been seen

Those were the days
When the planet was young
Was it our greed that
Made it all go wrong?

Joan Etoile

Cellar Club - Stephen A. Roberts

There are offices there now;
windows shining brightly out into the dark.
Maybe the power we felt back then
is still burning underneath those corporate car parks,
leaking upwards at 120BPM
into photocopiers and desktops,
faxes and laptops;
making them all secretly hum
those 80s tunes
deep into the night.

Stephen A. Roberts

Dog Days - Richard Fleming

Days gallop by, months, years, so fast
that panic of a sort sets in:
you feel that all the dreams you had
have slipped away, it’s all too late,
so when the scent of what’s escaped
drifts on the wind, your nostrils twitch
and, disregarding all the rules,
you follow it in hot pursuit.
In consequence, lives are destroyed:
homes, futures, harmony and hearts.
Too late, for what you lost, you yearn.
Old dogs, new tricks? They never learn.

Richard Fleming

Forever Alone - Ian Duquemin

I fell through the branches
And crashed to the ground
Kids in their laughter
All gathered around
I stood in their shadow
And brushed off the pain
I looked up at that tree
And then climbed it again

I laid in the long grass
And stared at the sky
I watched as the birds flew
Thought 'Why couldn't I?'
I ran through the Green Fields
My arms reaching high
But my wings they were broken
Unable to fly

I sat by the sea shore
And buried my feet
I breathed in the air
Of the shimmering heat
I noticed a ship
And waved it goodbye
With a feeling of sadness
I didn't know why

Those days I remember
From when I was young
The freedom I dreamed of
Were feelings so strong
But I was born on an island
Not much of a home
A castaway always
Forever alone

Ian Duquemin

Old Guernsey Boys - Diane Scantlebury

Old Guernsey boys how they reminisce,
About the women they’ve loved
And the girls they’ve kissed,
About summer romances and flirtations
That like the tides came and went,
In teenage haunts long gone
Their youth misspent,

Over a pint in the pub,
Old Guernsey boys how they reminisce
About the women they’ve loved
And the girls they could’ve kissed,
About youthful adventures past and long gone,
The triumph of their conquests
And opportunities missed.

Diane Scantlebury

Vazon Strand - Steve Rowe

we would run
ancient heroes
on the long silver beach
chase wild water ’til midnight
on the shoreline of the reach
over timber
to the causeway
'neath the granite of the quay
over silence of the soft wet sand
to the edge of the sea

and some would seek fortunes
others wade in deep mud
or standing like a legion
with a banner under god
chant longing for the master
rave passion for the king
open up for the chalice
to wear the robe and the ring

and we were lit by the stars and the planets
looking for the holy grail
with your pale face staring
at the full moon's train
down on the vazon strand

we were cold on the monday
stony broke in the week
waiting long for the holy days
when we gathered to the street
and we were all fine companions
on the journey to the end
sea salt sailors
friends of friends of our friends

and I knew you when I met you
and I found you in the crowd
like an island in the moonlight
like a star above a crown
and we shared all our fortune
and buried all our tears
in the depths of the dunes
in the shadow of the pier

and we were lit by the stars and the planets
looking for the holy grail
with your pale face staring
at the full moon's train
down on the vazon strand

Steve Rowe

Twilight - Tony Gardner

Sitting here in endless twilight
Smokey dreams stroll through my mind
From below the cliff I fell from
I remember sweeter times
When we'd live in endless sunshine
When the nights would never end
All we looked for was each other
Every minute was our friend
Then like snow when warmer days come
Watched you melting fast away
Left me mourning, like the night bird
Weeping in the silver-gray.

Tony Gardner

Early Days - Tony Gardner

We rushed off from school to where the Cradle Rock waited
And spent all the summers on that beautiful beach
Ran down where the Water Lane's wild stream was singing
Sometimes down the hill, where the buttercups bleached

The red of the Campion that filled all the meadow
While the stream whispered musically running on through
Onward we strode past the car park and tea room
To at last where the water was salty and blue

Mrs Cooke at the top with her big pile of deck chairs
With always a smile and a word of Hello
Shall we go down the Slip side or Step side
We must have a swim, where ever we go

There were always us locals, and usually some tourists
Who had no idea where the Men's Gully lay
Or the Castle Rock, too, or where we could catch Caboos
They only wanted to sunbathe all day

As kids in those days, never thinking or knowing
The value of all that was all ours for free
Today on some foreign shore, my mind is knowing
The worth of a Guernsey upbringing to me.

Tony Gardner

Their Day Will Last Forever - Trudie Shannon

Upon the summer soft shimmering air,
There are voices, fleet of foot calling invisibly.
And suddenly my own childhood re-emerges shyly
To sit quietly upon the yawning gate, observing.

Swiftly kinesthetic memories activate
To clamber and to climb compelling trees,
Rough rock faces and granite walls
To jump fearlessly from a million miles high
Into puddles and stinking tomato stalks.
To dunk small fingers into the hearts of jellyfish
And sugar bowls and cream
To capture cabous quicksilver flashes
And flies and grasshoppers
To feel sand between toes inside plimsolls
And salt from the sea drying on skin
And bathers, wet a zillion times, dry going home, clothes in the bag.

I take a breath and open my eyes.
Childhood has slipped from the gate.
The evening air is still warm and I know,
For the children shrieking happily,
Bather clad, on the swings
Their day will somehow, magically never end.

Trudie Shannon

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

Flowers In Our Hair - Tony Bradley

If you're like me, around sixty-five
you'll know exactly what I mean
when all the young people felt really alive
and global peace seemed more than a dream.

If you're younger, although you weren't there
you may get the vibe from this rhyme
for us wrinklies, it's a bit of nostalgia
the world was better, for a very short time.

You didn't have to go to 'Frisco
'cos love was all around, babe, in the air
pretty girls with gorgeous short dresses
and my light blue, brushed denim, 'South Sea Bubble Co.' flares and long, curly hair.

(PIECE TO CAMERA)
I must apologise, because in the previous verse
that last line was conspicuously, ridiculously long,
but the whole sentence brings back such memories
to leave any word out, somehow seemed wrong.

The fashions were all different, new styles and tones
frilly shirts, flares, kippers and clogs,
music for everyone, The Beatles and Stones
Dusty, Elvis, Dylan, and Troggs

I could wax lyrically, ad nauseum, about the cars around then
I know I'm just another silly old fart
but a lot of them are still cherished today
'cos like us, they're really works of art.

I honestly don't know if anyone will read this
but I seem to make more sense in a rhyme
I'm hoping that some folks, around my age
have been reminded of their own happy time.

Tony Bradley

The Old Farmhouse - Tony Gardner

Memories live in this old homestead
Through the years they still delight
Of a young boy window gazing
At the brilliant starry night
How two newlyweds came laughing
How love died, a sorrow still
But though people change and fail us
This old farmhouse never will.

Loved and lovely, strong and honest
With its weather-wearied face
From my youngest years the centre
Of my world, the dearest place
Life is not a bed of roses
With the good oft comes the ill
But though people disappoint us
This old homestead never will.

There's such joy at my returning
Every time I've been away
What a peace my heart is feeling
As I vow I'm home to stay
Snug beneath the Downs it nestles
With the stables and the barn
And though people cool towards us
This old house is always warm

As my father and grandfather
Farmed this God-touched Sussex earth
Loved and clung to this good building
Knew instinctively its worth
So through all that lies before us
Through Life's tangled tears and thrill
And through people's fickle friendships
This old house is constant still.

Tony Gardner

The Water Lanes - Tony Gardner

Out of mingled childhood mem'ries,
Myriad warm and lovely dreams,
One stands out above all others,
Down the water lanes a stream
Twinkled, singing through the Eden
Which we took for granted then
How I wish I could recover
Those sweet sylvan hours again.

Dappled sunlight through the branches,
Bird song rich from every tree
And the chuckling, happy water,
Dancing down towards the sea
Still I smell that warm, soft dampness,
Still I taste upon my lips
Cold, clean water, full of magic,
When I laid full length to sip.

Happy days and simple pleasures,
Now seem very far away
But in memory I wander
Down that path towards the bay.
Then all those idyllic hours,
When Life knew no care or pain
Live once more as I, in fancy,
Walk the water lanes again

Tony Gardner

The Good Ole Days? - Julian Clarke

Time creeps up on us the older we grow
Bent and wizened like an ancient oak tree,
Grasping the future all those years ago
The golden ole days seem the place to be.

A song on the radio from yesteryear
Long summer days drenched in the sun,
Wistful memories and lives without fear
A night out with friends having so much fun.
Now
What if the past was turned upside down
What if the future was flipped all around?
Would we still yearn for the good ole days
And not look back in a rose tinted haze.
So
How would we welcome the oncoming past?
With
Imminent conflicts, other people’s wars
A time long before the smart mobile phone,
No Wi Fi or texting so how would we cope
No long haul travel holidaying at home.
And
The 1970’s a decade of strikes
Fuelling an era of dissent,
Skyward inflation with many price hikes
Bitter was the winter of discontent.
But
What if we enjoyed the here and now?
What if looked on with a little less haste,
What if we’re more forgiving to others?
Live for the moment in a calmer place.

Julian Clarke

Jumble - Richard Fleming

At jumble sales and stalls of bric-a-brac,
these old things gather like tide wrack
washed up out of a sea of years:

the shoehorn with the fox-head handle; the candlestick without a candle;
the photograph of Brighton Pier; those carved monkeys that can see or say or hear
no evil thing; the ugly vase Aunt Lizzie sent us from Peking
before the war; the Coronation Mugs and hairbrush sets and bagatelle,
where winner gets the highest score.

Like postcards, from a place called childhood,
that went astray in some post office pigeon-hole or tray,
they are delivered now, belatedly.

We turn them over in our ageing hands,
examining their surfaces, weaving strands of antiquity
into some flawed pattern that we call the past.

Richard Fleming
This poem appears in Richard’s second poetry collection, Strange Journey.

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