Poems

(for Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother)

The onslaught of the passing years

Have left their mark upon your soul

But still your love continues

To survive life's flood of tears.

Mankind endeavours to embrace

And disentangle all the dreams

Embedded in the beauty,

Of your permanence and grace.

You ride life's unrelenting waves

With ease and perfect majesty

And sow the seeds of freedom

In the minds of simple slaves.

For you are the eyes of the century

And only you have the eyes to see

Man's blindness and insanity.

You witness the reality

Of abject poverty and pain

That cripples the neglected

Where injustices remain.

Nobody sees the suffering

Inside your monumental heart

Or feels the desperation

Your beliefs cannot impart.

When hatred hammers home its nails

Into the cross of gallantry

We feel the warmth and comfort

Of your great humanity.

For you are the eyes of the century

And only you have the eyes to see

Man's blindness and insanity.

Iain Wade, Knaresborough.

The Busy Bee

Into the regal lily bustled the busy bee,

Powdered his face with pollen, Then left hurriedly

Lest a drone should tell the queen about his vanity.

He settled on a green rose leaf, Washed behind his ears,

Shook his tail and sat while to satisfy his fears

Then sallied forth to do his work lest he got in arrears.

He had his quota to turn in before the day was done.

A honeycomb to furnish with the nectar he had won

So he buzzed off pretty smartly towards the setting sun.

The soil, the bulb, the sun, the flower, the perfume-laden air.

The swarm, the queen, the worker bee, the golden honey rare.

In all the mystery of life, God's unending care.

Fran Vincent, Skeeby, Richmond.

A Helping Hand

To help a lame dog over a stile,

Is sometimes rewarding and one may smile,

To receive just a thank-you and wish nothing more,

To know you have helped, when their pathway was raw.

But often lame dogs helped in that same light

Get over that stile then turn round and bite.

Olga Ramshaw, West Rainton.

Tour de France

Three weeks of toiling, against Mother Nature herself

Of man and his machine in pursuit of greater wealth

Under team orders, uses most muscles of his body

Rush of adrenaline to wear the yellow jersey.

Days under scoring sun, flat racing, quite devastating,

Extreme low temperature, mountain stages contrasting.

Filled with epic drama, becomes sports great movie

Remotest part of the countryside to your settee

Around the world, exhilaration just don't lie down

Nerve wrecking the travelling circus reaches every town

Certain splendour there's nothing better than victory

Exclusive interviews, let's get the champagne ready.

John Neal, Chester-le-Street.

One Word

There's a castle in my mind

With towers and a gateway I cannot find.

If you were here beside me

I know these things I could see.

But you are inside this fortress

Full of sadness and distress.

The softly-spoken magic spells

Of the chapel's gently chiming bells.

A hero on a horse with a silver sword.

When all you need is a sweet gentle word.

Maybe one day I would find my way

If I could find this word in my heart I need to say.

Sorry.

K Cey, Durham.

I Remember Summer

I remember fresh summer mornings

We were awakened by birdsong

And you were so strong.

I remember hot sunny afternoons

We dreamed lazily on the lawn

And love was born.

I remember warm summer evenings

They washed over us like mulled wine

And you were mine.

But most of all I remember one starry night

When a summer moon shone

You kissed me.

Then you were gone.

Sara Newby, Darlington.

The Sequel

I wrote a poem

Some time ago

To The Northern Echo

They put it on show.

'Twas about the time I met my wife

She brought some love into my life.

She went on from there

To be a good mother,

And that's right, you've guessed it,

A very good lover.

We had six children

They were beautiful to see

I think they inherited

Their good looks from me.

They were brought up with firmness

On love they were fed,

And made good parents themselves

When their turn came to wed.

They didn't disappoint us

And down they did delve

And gave us our grandkids

Not eleven, but twelve.

More than 40 years

Have gone by

Since that night that we met.

We're getting no younger

Margaret, my pet.

But should God smile down on us

From up above

We could make our Golden,

Margaret, my love.

Fred Wallis, Barnard Castle.

Dorothy Ann

Dorothy Ann is a very special name

Always laughing, always the same.

Understanding, a real friend indeed

Generous and good, we are both agreed.

Helpful and caring, whose company is a tonic

The speed of her movement is supersonic.

Exceptional ability is very well known

Reliability and goodness is constantly on show.

Outstanding personality and we are elated

Fortunate we are for being closely related.

Often together we go down memory lane

Unlimited pleasure we do retain.

Reason for the poem was just to remind

Such a wonderful person is impossible to find.

Irene and Alex Wiles, Sherburn Hill, Durham.

The English Rose

You beautiful healing English rose

Your colours shine like gold.

Send your love to those who hold you

And grow in abundance so people can see

The healing rays of spirit flow

From man to man and woman too.

Birds take their seeds and drop them around

From country to country so they can be sown

Bringing peace, love and friendship to all abound.

Forming a bridge for all to reach

Bringing your love for us to teach.

The world needs your beautiful colours

To send a glow to light the sky

From hatred and jealousy which man throws out.

And send away the greed of money.

Then maybe we'll live in peace and honey.

Helping one another as once we did.

But it has to take wars for us to be

A loving nation once more

That is what peace is for.

Marjorie Chadwick, Saltburn.