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Where?

ghost womanxxxxxxxxxxxx

I woke with a start, I’m not sure why
Reaching to reassuringly touch your hair
Even that light pressure I seek to find
But as I come awake, you weren’t there.

 

The smile that was brought by good news
A surprise gesture coming out of thin air
I start to reach for the phone to explain
Brought back to reality, you aren’t there.

 

How many things have caused thoughts
That become second nature to just share
Excitement, anticipation, maybe a worry
Thinking of you, yet you just aren’t there.

 

The mind gives us so much to keep close
We have so many ways to show that we care
Even with changes brought beyond our control
A touch of the heart, yes you are still there.

by Gray Poet

Charles Townsend

 

 

 

 

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

The Taste of Sleep – Promote Yourself

sleepxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

I awaken with a start from sleep that should be restful; repose and recuperation.

And yet my slumber brings no peace. I admit, no demons stalk the empty corridors of my sleep. No, they are not nocturnal. Every waking hour they roost upon my shoulder, nuzzle at my ear, and whisper torments of nothing and everything.

No monsters lurk in the empty rooms under dusty, unused beds, or in dark cupboards that creak under the weight of childish things. Of memories, of good times.

What pursue me in my dreams are lies. False memories. Reflections of what I fear and love the most, but what simply cannot hurt me now. Abandonment, and constant censure of my failures, mistakes and negligence.

But was this ever so ? I was never thus discouraged, and absence prevents them doing so now. Why then does it hurt ?

Larkin was right. “They f**k you up, your mum and dad, They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had. And add some extra, just for you.”

But knowing “This be the Verse” to be so redolently true, why do I still succumb to somnolent torment? When I close my eyes, to rest my body, soul, my brain, why does a battle rage in my subconscious. The dead and walking wounded loiter on the field to shape and influence my waking hours.

This taste of sleep that lingers like garlic or raw onion sets forth my outlook on the day. A Duvet shrouded, solitary indolence of reading and books. A manic striving to create what is ultimately, pointless and irreverent.

Or simply being a good dad, ignoring those whispers, entertaining the only truly ‘good’ thing I have ever achieved.

“Get out as early as you can, And don’t have any kids yourself” he concludes. But even the after-taste of night terror will never see me acquiesce. Surely I cannot be all bad, what I leave behind will be greater than the sum of my parts.

No, on days like this I rinse away the unpleasant tang and prefer to savour more pleasant dishes. Infused with hope and enriched with the zest of my child, who reminds me, who proves “our almost – instinct almost – true: What will survive of us is love.”

Copyright © John Bullock, 2013. All Rights Reserved

But I love you so

shadow in the woods

I gently wipe

The tears from my eyes

Remembering the love

You denied

Like a winter breeze

Embracing the trees

You disappeared

Faded into the breeze

Through the forest

Through the trees

To follow a rainbow

Maybe, or

To greet your new love

But I still

love you so

We built our friendship

We built our love

On rocks

I thought

A deep foundation

When all along

You had a new love

You left me

All alone

But I still

Love you so

Gillian sims

Wild Orchid – Promote Yourself

cherokee
“The flower that walks”, the Indian; said, 
And walking spreads its crown-like roots 
Through forest glades and upland dales. 
Moccasin flower or Lady’s Slipper,
It matters not the name
Or if it be fair white or rose or tiny yellow kind
Tis ever rare and wondrous there 
This woodland beauty Bequeathed us from another age. 
A Heritage to guard with 
care
And cherish for posterity
That other eyes in future years
Mav see this Orchid walk the trails
As did our native Indian braves
And shy eyed maidens of the tribe.
-HELEN M. FLEET

Flowers on a lamppost


Flowers on a lamp-post

A loving display

Tributes to a loved one

Whose life was taken away

Why did it happen?

For it`s tearing me apart

The pain that I am feeling

It`s breaking my heart

I keep on thinking if only

These things are within my head

If only they had been somewhere else

They would still be alive not dead

Oh God where were you?

When your help was needed most

If you had been with them

No flowers would be on the post

————————–

My child of the material

I sense and feel your pain

I have not failed you

For you will see them once again

I was with them when they needed me

I took them by the hand

I surrounded them with love and light

As we moved to the Summerland

Fear not for their safety

For their love for you will remain

For the bond of love is strongest

As they comfort you through your pain

When you look at the tributes

That you placed upon the post

Remember, I was with them

When they needed me the most

Malcolm Bradshaw

THE WILLOW’S BRANCH

willow treexxxxxxxxxxx

Your touch,
like the gentle dip of the willow’s branch upon the water,
sends ripples through my being.
And I am stilled.
Your kiss,
like the landing of a winter snowflake down upon my flushed skin,
speaks to my worried mind.
And I am silenced.
Your breath,
like wind on the prairie rushing to some unknown place,
cleanses my soul.
And I am renewed.
Love?
I will quietly cease – should you ever leave me.
Stay close.
For your presence is all I require to survive the spin of this blue green orb.

Shelley

Would You Save My Soul Tonight?

SilhouetteManWomanEmbracing

Would you save my soul tonight
Would you hold me close and tight
Would you dream the dream I dream
Would you feel the same emotion
Would you still hold me tight
All through the night
Caress my nightmares
Share what I share
See what I see
Do you believe in me
Would you save my soul tonight
Until the morning light

Gillian and Thomas Sims

Into the west

golden ship
When will this toil end?
Must I remain affixed to this mortal coil by silver thread?
I long to climb aboard a golden ship and sail
Into the western sky 
 
Over the rainbow where years of dread
No longer hold power to bow my head
I’ll sail away in my ship of gold
Where sadness is nothing but a story once told
 
Descend once there into fields of green
Laced round and round by lively streams
Land there to till, and good work to do
A pub there is too for a fire and brew
 
No more deadlines to meet or diesel to breathe
No cold winter chill to bite through my sleeves
Just sun, and rain, and the scent of the sea,
Good friends to hold dear whom I’ve long wished to see
 
Beyond the horizon I so long to go
Over the rainbow, far past the snow
I long to leave these dark-lit shores
And sail the western sky

Sent from my iPhone

This is Nottingham

notts

Nottingham is a lovely place, so much to see and do,

a castle, caves, the river, we’ve got a windmill too!

Two football teams, ice skating rink, a tennis centre place,

rugby, bowling, health clubs, whatever you can face. 

Our medical care is first class, we’ve got the Q.M.C.

They really do look after us, they are there for you and me.

The University grounds are beautiful when the rhodo’s are on show,

on a sunny afternoon it is the place to go.

If you want to see how criminals were treated in days gone by,

you could go to the Shirehall Galleries, if you DARE give it a try!

If you are a night owl there are many clubs for you,

to stay until it’s quite late, or dance the whole night through.

We also have some friendly pubs, if you want a quiet drink,

or you can go and have a lunchtime snack, if your cooker’s on the blink.

Our restaurants are wonderful whatever you like to eat,

the choice is quite a amazing it’s simply hard to beat.

You can even go to the theatre, plays, concerts, whatever you want to see,

there are also lots of cinemas if you fancy a movie.

From the Nottingham Midland train station you can go anywhere at all

but you really should just stay right here, you will really have a ball!

JUNE FISHER Sutton-in-Ashfield



I look to you

When I feel I can’t fight the world anymore

I look to you for an open door

Your shoulder to lean on

Your hand to stroke away my tears,

Your soft voice to console all of my fears,

Your reassurance that you will protect

Me from harm and neglect,

I look to you for an open door

When I feel I can’t fight anymore,

I need your gentle hand

To guide me through

The rough exterior of this land

I look to you for an open door,

Where I know I will be safe

Not lost anymore,

I know you will be there for me

When I feel I can’t fight the world anymore

I will be reassured

Once I have entered your open door

Gillian Sims

My little Green Friend

 
There was a little caterpillar,
I called him hairy Fred
He was searching round my garden,
Looking for a bed
He couldn’t find one leaf,
Or even a flower-pot
All there was, was soil,
My mum had cleared the lot
He crawled and wriggled some more,
Until finally he gave up
He had searched every corner,
And looked in every nook
He settled on the bin house,
And curled up for his snooze
Tomorrow he will search elsewhere,
And hopefully not lose.
Abbe  Cutforth

Solo

I am the one

Who sat upon

The highest cliff

Reaching out to

To the loudest waves

When a man approached me

Smiling,

Though his eyes were sad

He needed someone to talk to,

I did not acknowledge him,

It was at that moment

A teardrop crept from his eye,

Falling and crashing deep into the waves

He followed,

Leaving no trace

When he jumped into the waves,

Silence clung

Like a glove,

All I could feel was his pain

Around my heart

Still…

I remain solo

I wish I had spent the time

To talk to him,

The stranger that I ignored

I wish I had been brave enough,

To hear what he had to say

I was his last hope

Now I will never know

The hurt he held inside

I will never know,

How many times he had cried

About whatever secret he held inside

Why his tear drops fell

Into the hungry waters,

Whilst I sat upon the highest cliff

Reaching out to the loudest waves,

Still I remain solo

by Gillian Sims

PROUD TO CALL HIM DAD

 dadxxxxxxxxx

I planted my first acorn when I was only three

One of the first lessons my father taught me

He was an expert in how seeds germinate and grow

He thought this was something everyone should know

I waited patiently for the first leaves to appear

Then he showed me how to tend it with such loving care

I watched that sapling grow into a mighty tree

When I see it now it brings him into my memory

It reminds me of the love that he showed to me

Similar to the care I showed to that saplng tree

By reason of that love the tree reached maturity

And it’s survival to this day reminds me of his memory

It’s many years now since he passed away

But he still enters my mind nearly everyday

His passing was something that made me sad

But he was the one I was proud to call my dad

Ron Martin

PLEASE PLAY TUBBY JONES

Here comes Tubby Jones
Bringing out the cones.
‘Will Tubby be playing today?’ His mother said.
‘It all depends on how much he’s been fed!’

I felt such a nit,
When I told her he wasn’t fit.
‘I would love to play him in a game,
If the other lads didn’t hold him to blame.’

‘He stands still on the spot,
When he could have had a shot.’
Poor Tubby Jones does his best,
But he can’t run like all the rest.

‘You must play him’ says Mrs Jones,
‘If you don’t his father moans!’
‘Oh Mrs Jones why do you feed him so?
If you want him to make it as a pro.’

‘I’d love to put him in a team,
You probably think me ever so mean,
But I have to be fair to the other lads,
Who run and run like their dads.’

‘You need to help your son get fit,
Encourage him to run not sit,
Vegetables and salads are what he needs,
Instead of all those massive feeds.’

‘If you love your Tubby so
And want him in the team to show.
Please listen to what I say,
And he should be playing by next May!


© Simon Icke 1998 Aston Clinton, Bucks. UK.

Footnote : As someone who has managed children’s football teams for a number years in the past, I know the pressure placed on managers by parents who think their son should be playing centre forward even though he is not good enough to make the sub bench. It is always difficult to be fair to all boys and everyone should be made welcome to training sessions and given the same opportunity to improve. However, in my experience at managing successful junior teams, when it comes to selecting the team, you have to choose the best lad for each position irrespective of who the parents are and the pressure they place on you to see their boy as centre forward!…but most clubs have a reserve team or a B team to help players improve or improve their fitness. I always believed in the three things when it came to coaching kids football: Encourage! Encourage! Encourage! and that football should be fun as you will read in my football poem: Touchline Shouting.
This poem was first published in Aston Clinton Primary School’s Anthology of football poems; seehttp://www.footballpoets.org/p.asp?Id=721&biog=yes  Titled Poetry in Motion Football! Football! Football! Published Nov 98 by Simon Icke. It is now out of print but you can find some of the poems from the book at: www.footballpoets.org and many more amusing football poems by hundreds of different authors. It was the world’s first and only dedicated football poetry website; based in Wiltshire, England.

 See also about healthy eating in:Let’s let off steam( Eat your fruit and veg) at:www.poetreecreations.org
Written by Gillian Sims.Taken from The Manners book see:www.waterstones.com

A Thousand Pictures

If I could paint a thousand pictures

Each one would be of you

I would place them all around my room

So I wouldn’t feel so blue

I know you would always be close

So close to my heart

If you were ever away

I know we’d never be apart

My eyes would follow you around my room

To admire my pictures of you

I would go to sleep well rested

Not feeling at all blue

I would dream of you looking at me

Whilst I silently sleep

I would breathe you in the morning

My pictures of you to keep

Gillian Sims

Clump of pages

 
He missed a chapter in his book,
Like he missed the time before he took,
A lapse in time,
When eye lids shut;
In comfort ages,
That clump of pages.
Missing sand in seaside places,
And falling rain on sun burnt faces.
Eye lids open,
But nearly shut,
Back he turned,
In his clump of pages.
By John Fox
 

Sweet Smiles

IMAG0223

Sweet smiles

Of a child

Sweet innocence

Radiant skin

Beautiful within

Hours spent

Playing, laughing

Loving life

Sweet smiles

Of a child

Turning to giggles

Radiant skin

Beautiful within

Laughter contagious

Demanding love

Embracing the moment

Just the two of us

Gillian Sims

Photograph copyright Poetree Creations 2013

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