Somebody Missing - Bryony de Lat

Wandering now along the coastline, as we used to stroll, before
it seems the same waves that we watched are returning again to shore
listening as the grasses swirl in the breeze, just the same
but this time it's different,.... I hear them whisper your name.

It's so easy for me now, with all purpose gone
with this tide, to just slip away
with no-one now to really miss me,
with no-one so dear, to bid me stay.

Another tide ebbs, revealing the rocks,
the seaweed slumbers again, as ocean leaves land
endless movements, as the earth still turns round,
and our precious lives,. . . just grains of sand.

Bryony de Lat

Reflecting On My Life - Jay Cee

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
A bonny baby looking back at me
With happy smile and toothless grin
A child of innocence who knows no sin

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
A fair haired child looking back at me
Playing with toys and imagining
What this life holds in store for him

I look in the mirror and what do I see
A young man with my life ahead of me
With ideas and strength to conquer the world
Going forth into battle with flag unfurled

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
A broken man with injuries
I gave my body and answered the call
I fought the battle and gave my all

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
An old man crippled and cannot see
My strength is gone, my day is done
As my life slips away in the setting sun.

Jay Cee

The Carpenter - Stephen A. Roberts

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in February 2012

Image - Stephen Roberts

The bent nail stares at me accusingly,
Useless
The Carpenter says nothing as
I place another and drive it in
Hoping to miss the tendons this time
Some of His blood touches me
But I don’t feel blessed

Stephen A. Roberts

This poem was originally published in 2010, as part of the Guernsey Arts Commission's international poetry competition "Poems On The Buses".

Thinking of Phil - Diane Scantlebury

When I heard the news
No tears or words came,
I couldn’t even say your name,
Standing in the middle of the room
Mouthing, but I was struck dumb,
Clutching the phone, cold and numb,
Wondering how it was possible
For one so young to slip,
Away from us and lose life’s grip,
A lovely, gentle, caring man
Just when your future was about to unfold,
The world caved in and you lost your hold,
In the shock of the news
No tears or words came,
But Phil be at peace
Now I can cry and say your name.

Diane Scantlebury

Mother Rose - Ian Duquemin

Yorkshire... I'll not see beauty again as yours
No rolling hills or meadows green
Each gaze a pictorial scene

Yorkshire... I'll not find a home without
No welcome sure as a long lost son
My heart you undoubtably won

Yorkshire... I pray that I'll see you again
If only as ash blown from somebody's hand
I'll be home when returned to your land

Ian Duquemin