Readers' Poems
March 11th, 2008
THE GOLDEN SHORE
As I walk the golden shore,
And look across the deep, blue sea,
All I see is you and me,
And reflections of a calm, calm sea.
The sky so blue above the clouds,
I love to hear those angelic sounds,
To steal a kiss with added bliss,
Is all I ask of you.
This beauty that I spy,
Close by my side,
Soon to be my bride,
For I will love her evermore
As I walk across the golden shore.
Robert Colvin
PRECIOUS METAL
Gee, it seems I'm getting old,
I wonder now, where is my gold?
I have worked all my days,
There must be some from the pays.
Someone said: "It is fine,
Look upon your first line,
Take the beginning and the end,
Join them together and make ammends."
E Reynolds, Wheatley Hill, Co Durham
THE SPIRIT OF OLD HIGH ROW
Please come shopping to Darlington,
Now it's a darling of a town,
The main theme is cleanliness
We all know, it's next to Godliness.
At sale prices, more goods are bought,
Everyone can walk in comfort.
Come inside the covered market if it rains,
Plenty of outside seats to ease foot pains.
Every picture tells a story,
The new look is hope, love and glory,
2007 we've had plenty of rain showers,
Which have bloomed for shrubs and flowers.
This Quaker town rich in history
At last has given this victory,
This magic is the new High Row
Has the spirit of the old High Row.
Alfred Smirk, Darlington
A BEAUTIFUL VOICE
A man with a beautiful voice
has been taken away
So shortly after
his 60th birthday.
He brought us joy
and happiness
As we waited in readiness
For his songs filled
with passion,
Leaving us with compassion.
The clothes he wore were
"Black"
This song sent shivers down
our back.
His eyes shone,
his smile so sweet,
A big hug when we did greet.
No more on stage for us to see
The music of John Wright
remains a memory.
Sandra Moran, Darlington
THE WAY IT USED TO BE
I went for a walk the other day
Just to pass the time away
I walked up to where the colliery used to be
Sat for a while to look what I could see.
I closed my eyes and to my surprise
Woke up back in 1949
It was all there, the sounds, the smells
Of the old colliery rows, I knew so well.
The colliery houses all in a row
All with their tin baths on show
The earth middens across the street
Where we used to cut the Echo into sheets
Smoke blowing from every chimney pot
Children running errands,
babies crying in their cots.
Men joining their mates,
as they walked to the mine
Waving to the women
hanging washing on the line.
From the white-washed step
at the old back door
I could see the old proddy mat
on the quarry stone floor
The old wooden chair
that we sat in and rocked
Safe behind a door
that was hardly every locked.
A mining community that didn't have much
But hey had something we cannot touch
As sense of decency, a sense of pride
That over the years has sadly died.
Sadly, with a sense of despair
And a tear in my eye
I said goodbye to 1949.
NL Kellett, Sunnybrow, Crook
THE SEARCHER
In the vast universe there's many a place
Not quite understood by the human race
In the world we've made so many finds
But some men just can't settle their minds.
These men have tried hard to work out why
The birds and the bees and the butterflies fly
Why an orange tree is there, hanging loose
Much sweet, fresh fruit so full of juice.
How can there be so much life in the sea?
How can a seed grow into a tree?
How does a rainbow take perfect shape?
They say that we all descend from an ape.
Why is it some people love a fat cat?
But so many of them are scared of a rat.
They say that the sea is controlled by the moon
Some watched a caterpillar build a cocoon.
They look in the skies and look at the stars
They're looking for life on Saturn and Mars.
They study the fossils, the soil and the rock
And search for a monster that swims in a loch.
But now they're so worn out looking for truth.
Answers are found but they've still found no
proof.
The sad thing is if they're right or they're wrong,
they still don't know where it all has come from.
Paul Snaith, Darlington
ODE TO THE COUNCIL
As I walk down a dog-fouled street
Piles of litter swirling round my feet
The drains don't work, the bins are full,
It's no wonder the town seems dull.
The potholed roads, the dirty buses
Makes me fill the air with cusses
They money we give, no, it's really extorted
It's time the above was properly sorted.
Mr JA Telford, Darlington
CAMP: 1965
He came out of the closet
before it was in
To be gay, as we mean it today
And, remarkably, nobody
thought it a sin,
Even bearing in mind what the
law had to say
On the subject of men who were fey.
Yes, the law came down hard
on the man who was seen
To be less than of masculine
bent.
He could also be harassed;
reviled as a queen'
By a public, in general, disposed to give vent
To disgust for a feminine gent.
But, in his case this animus didn't arise
Though his gayness was patently clear;
Since he made not the slightest attempt to
disguise
His effeminate bearing: he revelled in queer'
Affections; showed no sign of fear.
How he wasn't assaulted
because of his stance
back when men were supposed to be men,
And those men, as a rule, hadn't time for a nance'
I've found myself wondering, now and again:
I makes you glad that it's now and not then.
Ken Orton, Ferryhill Station, Co Durham
9:31am Tuesday 11th March 2008
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