Winter

As winter's icy fingers

Reach out and grasp the land

In a vice-like grip

Of some huge unrelenting hand,

Pools that once were liquid

Lie solid, hard as stone -

And a cold wind blows

That chills you to the bone.

Cattle stand, backs arched

Barely visible in the fog,

While farmer leads out hay,

With him his ever-faithful dog.

The trees stand stark and leafless

Their boughs all plumed in snow

And the fields bear tracks where hunter and hunted,

Have both travelled to and fro.

ED Bowen, Darlington.

Murder on the Lexicon Express

On TV, when describing what one likes,

Why must 'brilliant' always be used,

When there's 'gorgeous, beautiful, fantastic'.

I think brilliant is being abused.

I felt it was the last straw,

When they shortened brilliant to brill,

Describing cushions, curtains, flooring

And even a windowsill.

A former bishop (no name dropping,

And bless his cotton socks)

Basically, as he stood there

In his ecumenical frocks,

Asked were we aware

Of TV's murder of a word

I thought I must be hard of hearing

And had basically misheard.

He said that one more repetition

Of 'basically' - and he'd scream,

So I listened very carefully

When I switched on the silver screen,

On his advice I saw a show

And counted out each time

The presenter uttered 'basically'

Well basically, five times nine.

But now they have another word,

It's brilliant. Can you guess?

Affirmative answers are 'absolutely'

Basically, why can't they just say Yes.

Olga Ramshaw, West Rainton.

Let Go

There's not one mistake

We can put right

If we worry and we fret.

The simple answer

To be found

Is simply to forget!

We all do things

And become a fool

And wish it wasn't so.

But the answer

Is quite simply found

In forgiving self

And letting go.

Marge Mason, Newton Aycliffe.

A fishy Tail

Gurgling stream meets babbling brook.

Lad with bent pin used as hook

Stands there, bare foot, with one wish,

That he can catch a lot of fish.

Keep net ready for the catch

Which he hoped no one will match.

Line starts bobbing then goes taut,

Fish starts fighting, or so he thought.

Lad pulls hard on line again

Then curses when it starts to rain.

Lad needs this fish to keep a vow

That he'd get one for her somehow.

One last yank and out it flies

Hitting lad between the eyes.

Lad sees stars and one black welly

Then has to sit 'cos legs' like jelly.

Lad then sees in welly boot

Something that which makes him hoot.

One big fish, a huge great trout

Stuck in head first - could not get out.

Lad is happy - he's got his wish

That for her tea she will have fish.

Joyce Crawford, Darlington.

The Fall of Kabul

Kabul has fallen, they say the Taliban has gone,

Women, cast off your burquas, put your radios back on,

Dance, rejoice, go to your mosques and pray,

But best of all, let all your children go outside to play.

Five long, long years in this God-forsaken land,

A harsh, oppressive existence, ruled by Taliban's iron hand,

Not allowed to work, children denied the right to go to schools,

The cruel Taliban brought this upon us, we were pawns and stupid fools.

No infrastructure, no produce, a virtual dust bowl in the south,

Freezing, bitter winters in the mountains where we lived just hand to mouth,

And all the time the fighting, first the Russians and now this,

Add to that four years of drought, what is this Western word called 'bliss.'

We are numb to all the atrocities and executions we have seen,

All we want is to live in peace, whatever that may mean,

To drink pure mountain water, have a belly full of food,

A warm house, soft bed, friends and neighbours. Doesn't that sound good?

Allah be praised, God is good, we are Muslim and still follow our Koran,

But it is hard when all we see are Kalashnikovs and tanks in our beloved Afghanistan,

The Western infidels are coming, may they bring us help and aid,

Educate us, teach us, show us how great peace is made.

Derek Hamilton, Peterlee.

Trees

Bare branches

etched upon a winter sky.

Black lace,

silvered by the moon.

The daintiest filigree

ever seen.

Betty Robertson, Hipswell, Catterick Garrison.

My Wish for 2002

Here we are, with a brand new year,

We hope it brings a lot of good cheer.

Very good health for me and you

While we are in 2002.

May it bring Peace on Earth

No more people getting hurt,

No more tragedies, crashing of planes,

Cars, coaches or trains.

May we have tolerance, love and understanding

Among our human beings.

These are more important

Than big material things.

May there be rain, in countries where there's drought

So there'll be food to feed people's mouths.

May there be medicine, to cure the sick.

Please God, make it quick.

Emma Thomas, Darlington.

Take My Hand

Come, said my Love, come walk with me

See the mist upon the lea.

Listen to the blackbird singing

Hear the chapel bells a'ringing.

Come, Love, come walk with me.

Look, said my Love, look over there

See the golden russet pear.

Hear the stream so softly crooning

Where the bullfrog is a spooning,

Look, Love, look over there.

Hold, said my Love, hold fast my hand

I will lead you to a land

Where no hearts are ever broken,

Where no harsh words ever spoken.

Come, Love, come hold my hand.

Now my Love has gone from me

To where no eye can ever see,

To where the birds and bullfrogs sing

To where the heavenly church bells ring

My love has gone from me.

Yet, still, my Love, you walk with me

When the mist is on the lea

Where the stream is softly sighing

Where the dew is wetly laying,

Still, Love, you walk with me.

Hold, my Love, hold fast my hand,

Lead me to your golden land.

Take me where no heart is broken,

Where no parting words are spoken,

Come, Love, come take my hand.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

He Played For Wales

The Welshman died, went up and knocked

Upon the Gates of Heaven.

The Angel on the gate asked him,

Are you John William Bevan?

The man said: "Aye, and I confess

I played for Wales, you see,

And when we won the Triple Crown

I bribed the referee."

"That's bad, my son, but you're in luck

So get up off your knees.

St Peter's on sabbatical

St David's got the keys."

Bill Cooksey, Newton Aycliffe.