Love

I like to think the house where I live is always full of love

For even in the garden there comes a turtle dove.

It's love that makes the world go round and this is true, I'm sure,

For without love the quality of life would be so very poor.

Love creates an atmosphere, you feel it in the air,

So if there's love inside your home you're sure of a welcome there.

Love is born within you, it's generated all around.

With love you care for others and happiness is found.

Yes, love it counts for everything, even in a touch

And how nice it is to tell someone you love them very much.

Jean Allaway, Darlington.

Climate Change

What has happened to the snow?

Why do we still wish for a white Christmas?

The seasons are changing, global warming

And the leaves seem reluctant at falling.

We'll have less snow and frost,

But a lot more rain.

So, for Christmas presents

Don't buy gloves, scarves and furry hats,

It would all be in vain.

So, how about a large umbrella

Or a pair of Wellington boots?

Or better still, a pair of waders

For in some places the heavy rain

Has been an unwelcome invader.

So, builders of the future,

Will you build the houses on stilts

Or on top of the hills?

It would save a lot of money on repair bills.

Emma Thomas, Darlington.

As Time Goes By

At the end of the Great War, I was born,

I gave a loud cry as I greeted the morn.

My parents were middle-aged, an after-thought, perhaps,

Two elder brothers still wore school caps.

There was no nursery school for me

I crossed the street to the post office at three,

Letters I sorted with stamps on the right,

I used the metallic stamp with all my might.

Customers were invited to give the Christmas Club a trial,

Before Christmas I reached my proper potential,

Trying out the prams, motors, scooters for the people to buy,

A happy memory, as time goes by.

Mrs Elsie Pescod, Darlington.

Autumn

There's a tree outside my window

Covered in leaves of green and gold,

Dappled with browns and oranges,

a beautiful sight to behold.

And hanging from the branches

are berries small and red

Where birds of every species

gather to be fed.

But sadly things are changing

as a sudden wintry squall

Swirled among the branches

causing leaves to fall.

And very soon the tree will

lose all its foliage.

As the book of seasons

turns another page.

Then the tree outside my window

will stand stark in winter's cold,

Waiting for next year's coverage

of new leaves in green and gold.

Joyce Crawford, Darlington.

Memories

Look at me,

And say hello.

Don't let it all be forgotten

With the passing of time.

Smile that smile

With heart and eyes

And touch my soul,

And for that moment remember.

It's gone!

And time moves on -

And yet a whisper

Still remains within quiet moments.

What might have been!

No longer relevant,

But let us not dismiss

The comfort that we once had

Marge Mason, Newton Aycliffe.

When God Calls Me

When God knocks on my door, I'll be waiting,

He will take me through clouds in the sky

To his mansion which he calls his heaven

Into a room with my parents close by.

Then I will be able to tell them

All the things I forgot when on Earth,

The love and the care that they gave me

Since that memorable day of my birth.

I will thank them for all the things that they taught me

The meanings of truth, loyalty, respect and

To care for those other people,

Who are a lot worse off than myself.

I will tell them I sometimes took them for granted,

Not realising it though at the time, and

With that warm loving smile they will tell me

It's all part of life's journey through time.

I know that some day I'll see them

Even though we are two worlds apart

Until then, those treasured memories

Are locked away here in my heart.

Eric Alderton, Peterlee.

My Peach

NB: Early flowering fruit bushes need to be hand-pollinated.

My peach

(The one in the greenhouse)

Is a right tart!

Middle of February -

Not a stitch of green

To cover her naked limbs -

She puts on her pink frillies

For every Tom, Dick or Harry passing by

To gawp at

(I keep the glass spotless).

And then she's so demanding;

I have to touch her

Private parts

Everyday!

A finger will do, but she much prefers

A rabbit's foot or a badger-hair brush.

And then she keeps me danglingl

It's August before

I may touch those ripe, golden globes.

And then, (careful now - make sure she's ready)

I may close my mouth round that swelling sunlight

And feel the sweet juice

Running over my chin.

GR Inman, Kimblesworth, Chester-le-Street.

The Colours of Autumn

Beautiful colours of autumn days,

Purple hills in a distant gaze,

Cobwebs hung with dewdrops bright,

Sparkling like diamonds in the morning light.

Hips and haws of bright red,

Brown birds fight for scraps of bread,

Green apples lie on the orchard grass,

Small black insects scurry past.

Blackbird, chaffinch, robin red,

Little blue tit cocks his head.

Sensing the ginger cat on the prowl,

But he's frightened off by the black dog's growl.

Grey smoke from bonfires upward curling,

Into the blue skies gently swirling,

White mushrooms grow in fairy rings,

Some of the colour the season brings.

Autumn evenings mellow and still,

But warning of the coming winter's chill.

Leaves of yellow, red and gold,

Signs that the year is growing old.

Sylvia Hindmarch, Bishop Auckland.

Meeting Place

We gathered here last April

The talk was good, it was warm and still.

We discussed our plans for the rest of the year,

Full of confidence, no sign of fear.

We dispersed to different places,

Full of hope to meet new faces.

Some would go to higher learning,

Others wanted richer earning.

I wait alone in the December air.

They will soon arrive, their views to share.

I wonder what stories they will tell.

I hope their decisions all went well.

The flowers have slowly died away.

They will bloom another day.

Friendly voices announce their return.

Time to talk, time to learn.

Thomas Conlon, Kirk Merrington, Spennymoor.