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Monthly Archives: September 2015



Goosey- Goosey gander where do you wander

Down to the forest where the grass is so green

To the goose fair site where all can be seen

With all the smells  in the air what a wonderful atmosphere

Helter Skelter roundabouts and Dodgem cars all whirling about

Mushy peas and candy floss

children screaming as the rides go so fast

There’s Gipsie Rose Lee is reading  your  palms

Filling you up with all her charms

Big wheel so high I feel I could touch the sky

Its time to go as the goose fair lights go low

Then trailer’s packed and off they go

This year’s gone so fast

Thomas Sims

The coming of goose fair by Malcolm Bradshaw

Goose Fair Today


It’s October,
It must be Goose Fair!
Around more than 700 years.

This year, starts today, ends on Sunday,
An extra day!
Funfair rides never seen before
Thrill ride favourites
The Enterprise, the Observation Wheel, closed gondolas,
Helter Skelter, carousel rides, Waltzers, Ferris wheel,
The Roller.
Enjoy stalls, treats, burgers, mushy peas, even chips.
Fun for everyone
A big loud festival


Two gold rings

beautiful wedding rings

Soft white lace upon her face

Reminds me of an angel,

Long flowing white dress

A picture of loveliness,

A lifetime of happiness

Walking in fairy footsteps,

Following a long aisle

Where there are two eyes to meet,

The biggest smile

With teeth pearly white,

And a heart of gold,

Holding a hundred emotions

All to unfold,

A hand reaches out

A gold ring to wear

Two single people

To become a pair,

With a lifetime of love

To share

Gillian Sims

Pastures New


With tints of grey in the sky
Brave yet unsure

Of dawn and all its glory,
New dreams await with passion

The poet with a story,
So pen to pad lets once again

Greet the day anew,
Sunflowers swaying glistening
Moist from new dawns dew,
Other thoughts can wait awhile
I know he would agree,
He would want me kneeling

Tending plants and flowers smiling,
Not crying on my knees

Sandra Cameron ©2012

Things I like

Crimson kisses

Seashell whispers

Shy hello’s to French fellows

Soft and luscious marshmallows

Deep red roses

Babies noses,

Large rolling sea waves

Mysterious beach caves,

Deep purple crushed velvet

Treasures that I have kept,

Red and brown autumn leaves

Sweet memories of sweet dreams,

children’s laughter while they play

Meeting dawn, a brand new day,

Daffodils in the spring

All the pleasures that summer can bring,

Warm sweet mulled wine

The season of Christmas time,

Making strawberry jam

The beautiful sight of a new-born lamb,

Finding words for poetry

Sitting quietly with a cup of tea,

Walking the sands in my bare feet

Enjoying the ultimate barbecue feast,

Seeing the wonderful sights of the coast

Eating a lovely Sunday roast,

Watching the ducks swim and bathe

The aroma of freshly baked bread

Cascades of colour from fireworks

Up with the lark feeling alert

Seeing the stars in the sky at night

These are all the things I like

By Gillian Sims



Our life blood,

really is what defines us

only if we want to

accept our frailty

rather than relish upon our


those opportunities

that life’s challenges sometime


Or do we, when caught up in


ever question that reality,

that desire,

that drive,

that what is it some quest

someone yelled to me on the diving board

where’s your motivation,

just jump joker.

So I did, they didn’t, I dove, they stayed above, I swam

they watched.

Have you ever looked at the world while wading?


figures that don’t appear real

waving before your eyes

as if


one might decide they’re less important

figures of fantasy

having no bearing on our present


Ah, to recognize

how shallow our world can become

when ignorance decides upon our outcome.

Live strong, breathe genuine,

let the truth hurt while finding love.

Thom Amundsen



The drone of the aircraft
Flying over our shore
Was a regular sound
During the Second World War.

Though, our brave young men
Had other thoughts,
As they gave their lives
In the battles fought.

“Scramble”rang out
Round the South East’s fields;
Men took to the skies,
And many were killed.

They searched for the enemy
In their Hurricanes,
And engaged in dogfights
With other planes.

Man and machine
Would pit their wits,
To outmanouveur the Germans
And claim their hits.

Engines revved and roared
As they climbed and dived;
In a trail of smoke and flames,
Many perished, and died.

Spitfires joined in,
Shooting down enemy planes,
Littering the English Channel
With their burning remains.

Those gallant young men
With their patched-up gear,
Took to the clouds,
Showing no fear.

The Germans were outclassed,
And didn’t know what had hit ‘em:
We call this confrontation today…

Winston Churchill summed it all up
For every man that flew…
“Never have so many owed so much,
To so few”.

We’ll always be in debt
For the lives they gave;
Thanks to their heroic actions,
Great Britain was saved.

© Jim Bell

Battle Of Britain – Poem by Colin Ian Jeffery


‘Never before in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so
many to so few.’
Winston Churchill 1940

The siren scrambles the spitfire squadron
Young pilots mostly in their teens
Rush to clamber into cockpits
Engines roar, and planes race down the runway
Rising skyward in battle formation.

Fear grips and some pilots want to vomit
Flying upwards they seek advantage of height
Above the slow droning German bombers
Targeting England’s cities and ports
Guarded by darting M109 Messerschmitt fighters.

‘ Here we go, ‘ radios an Aussie squadron leader
‘ Let’s give the blighters hell.’
And out of the sun with cannons roaring
Spitfires attack like deadly hawks
Twisting and turning as the savage dogfight ensues.

Sergeant-pilot Peter Duncan trapped
Tries frantically to free his jammed cockpit cover
But flames engulf him – – melting hands and face
The spitfire spirals to the ground
Exploding in a fireball ending the sergeant’s suffering.

Battle of Britain – Thomas Sims




Dear Mother, the guns of battle,

Are ringing in my ear,

This letter I am writing,

May be the last I fear,


We are going forward,

To gain some worthless ground,

The gun’s they have started,

They make an awful sound.


There is shrapnel flying everywhere,

My heart is beating fast,

O Mother I have lost so many friends,

Most of them were gassed,


Alone am I the fear has gone,

The noise is far away,

The fear that is within has calmed,

As in the mud I lay.


The pain and the squalor,

Doesn’t hurt anymore,

My part in this battle is over,

For me I have had my war,


I hope and pray the sons of God,

Will always strive for peace,

Never again to kill and maim,

That all wars will cease.


Mother for me this war is over,

This letter I cannot send,

So I gave it to a trusted man,

A comrade and a friend,


God is now my protector,

For he has shown me the light,

No more into battle,

No more will I fight,


For death is just another state,

My spirit has journeyed on,

For I was just another soldier,

Who was killed upon the SOMME?


Malcolm G Bradshaw  


The Trees -Philip Larkin -Famous Poet


The trees are coming into leaf 
Like something almost being said; 
The recent buds relax and spread, 
Their greenness is a kind of grief. 

Is it that they are born again 
And we grow old? No, they die too, 
Their yearly trick of looking new 
Is written down in rings of grain. 

Yet still the unresting castles thresh 
In fullgrown thickness every May. 
Last year is dead, they seem to say, 
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

What's yours?

Mangoes – Promote Yourself

As much as I try

I cannot make

The time

Go slower

I enjoy every second

Mindfulness in play

Make the most of

Length and breadth and depth

Of sight and touch

And taste and smell

And sound

All of it sound

Safe and sound

In memory

In my skin

In my teeth

On my feet

Tangled in my hair

Stained on my dress

Emblazoned on my skin

Mosquito bite

And sandal mark

Stubbed toe

Tears of joy and memory

Of love and hugs and hate

Of sorrow and regret

Rich silt

Precious fruit

Warm wind

And gentle wave

And mangoes.

Cheryl Bhagwandin

(after a trip back to Guyana after 27 years)

“Redeem My Love”: – Promote Yourself


Crossing a somber

make believe cosmos

where the sharpened brim

of restless nights edge

through raindrop eyes as

the blanketing escape of

your rising circulation

nears smiling threads

of measured perfections.

I feel the precise muscle

of your tenor nestling

my diseased nightmares

as if some lighted aegis

of a sheltered dorm.

My histories drain

through every mile

of a shaking fractured kiss

and my lost soul drowns

begging for some belief.

If you persist in this

perpetual revival…

then take care

as my spirit unravels lost

between the floating taste

and song of your sublime

free and fingered clasp.

Modern Mania



We are in a free state

our words are rampant,

abundant, thrown with fury

as our fingertips express

what our eyes might easily hide.


We have liberties

our lives are fluid,

we stroll by one another

on city streets, in corridors,

alone upon intersections

without connection,

islands traveling in unison.


We are a smart folk

adapting to the machine-

mania of new-world communication;

texting our ideals,

snap chatting our privacy

allowing our massive peer group

to react accordingly hiding the visual.


We are alone now

gleaning our devices,

a blue-tooth discovery

working its blatant magic

in separation, in desperation,

a distant eye on body language

cannot suffice the human condition.


We need to breathe with eyes in elegance,

share the touch, share the beauty, share the love.


© Thom Amundsen 2014


It seems like yesterday By Gillian Sims


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