Page 8 - tmp
P. 8
www.ilkestonlife.com ILKESTON LIFE August 2021 8
Email your poems,
short stories, Our Victoria Park Listening to birds singing sweetly above, Towards wholeness and happiness, so we can
cartoons, etc., to Calling their mates, calling their love, say:
poems@ilkeston- by Janet Reeve Often hidden away among canopied trees, Our Victoria Park has inspired us, and fired us,
life.com A lock-down haven for the young and the old, Occasionally glimpsed in the whispering
or send to Ilkeston Where drinks from the café keep out the cold, breeze! Where firm friendships have blossomed among
Life, 1 Bath street, The “Bare Feet Cafe” with great friendly staff, us,
Ilkeston, Derby- Welcoming walkers and friends, having a Keeping so fit walking around and around, Brought smiles from tears in troubled times,
shire, DE7 8AH
And inspired ME to write this verse that
YOUR Delicious ice-creams when the weather is hot, ground,
Admiring the flowers springing up from the
laugh!
rhymes!
Following the tree trail, eighteen species In all,
Putting on weight? We don’t give a jot!
Our favourite, ancient Oak Tree, majestic and
Sitting round tables in the bright summer sun,
tall!
Imagine being at the seaside, having some fun!
SPACE Cheeky robins and blackbirds, all having no Victorian bandstand, standing so proud,
Where some Sundays, brass bands play aloud,
fear,
Echoing so musically around the park,
Hop after spilt crumbs, coming ever so near,
Lifting our gloom, igniting a spark.
Wagtails strut comically on the Bowling
A spark of hope in this pandemic year,
Green,
Stop suddenly, unexpectedly, their feathers to
Helping all participants along the way
preen! Dispersing despair, dispelling our fear,
The Wicked Wild start, Vibrant in the early morning sun. My first thoughts were of safety of Thin End of the
Web Don’t let this problem vex your Clinging to the foliage our mother earth
Could this be a new beginning, for Wedge
heart,
Spray painted by nature,
by M. S. Harvey © 2021 Just ask a poet for his aid, Burning like fire, an alien sky rebirth. by Ian Scott © 2009
Courageously, don’t be afraid,
Each petal, perfect,
The internet is full of scumbags He may be pleased to let you The scent illuminating It could have been a picture, torn It was the thin end of the wedge,
Criminals, scammers and thieves, know, The sight empowering, from a science fiction book But it hit me like a sledgehammer.
People just out to do others down, And if you’re lucky he will show Warming to the new day, But this was happening here and It came like thunder, spit me
And many, many more to deceive. The rhythms of his carnal art, Welcoming the first sighting, now, so I took another look asunder.
And offer you chance to take part, Showing her beauty, Could this have been a bad dream, Doctor said, “man you should be
There’s no-one online can be In forming stanzas physically, Like a new beginning, exposed, will I awake in my bed dead.
trusted, You too, could make love rhyth- Naked like a newborn. I then pinched myself and realised Oh, and six feet under.”
Just like the dark world outside, mically. The sun highlighted, it was happening instead.
Everyone’s out for only them- Onto every single petal. Chorus:
selves, A loud shout from a friend on the But hey, hey it’s only a little
In no-one, is it safe to confide. When Conservation Observe other side of the road whisky.
Began to reassure me what was
Hey, hey it’s only a little booze.
So trust no-one on the internet, was Normal by Steven Michael Pape happening as I stood froze I only take a shot or two,
And do not trust anyone you meet, by Mary Taylor © 2021 It’s one of nature’s phenomenon’s To loosen up the blues,
There is no-one with character Friday was Bath Night, quite normal when ever seen chase away the blues.
pure, The boast, “ I’m the cleanest in the Can you see us? We softly ask, As the winter sun rises its red Once a shot was good enough.
Just wickedness, malice and house” That lone walking man, wavelengths create this colourful One sniff, I didn’t need any stuff
deceit. Siblings shared one bath of water, Who treads the green path scene. harder.
Always observing,
But then nuns were praying around
Do Poets Make Love And so it went, until all were With a furrowed brow, As the dark cold night approaches my bed,
the sun’s rays disappear
doused.
The sun in his eyes,
Rhythmically? Wash Day was Monday, Refreshing the dry earth. Leaving this vast winter sky, for And papa said, “son you need
rehab”.
the moon and stars to appear
by M. S. Harvey © 2021 Boiling first the whites, Will he notice our arrival? This natural act of nature as once I was feeling under pressure..
Nappies, sheets and towelling,
Our colour and vibrancy?
Chorus Above:
There is a thing that puzzles me, All fresh and clean and bright, The change from green to yellow? again explained
How it’s hidden forces around our
When my thoughts turn literary, Mother wore an apron, The show we’ve developed, world will forever reign. Well time passed, like time always
That might affect reality, For cooking and messy jobs, From growth, to our birth, does,
In ways that anyone could see, Children wore Dads old shirts Come closer, Caress and smile at I got! I needed a bigger buzz, oh
A poet set on metered verse, For cleaning thingamabobs. us, brother.
Could be a blessing or a curse, And as you finally recognise The Final Price And two went to four; I’d lose
When coming to a carnal bed, There were school clothes, The change in surroundings, by John Wright count on the floor.
In passion’s flow, set full ahead, And best clothes and Dads old And marvel as you forget, And the barman said, with a grin
For whether quick, or whether overalls, The inner world you inhabit. Did you ever stand upon a field, as he did, “dead?”
slow, A new coat at Easter, and shoes, Come closer still, Where once there was a war? But I’d cry out, “one more”..
There is one thing I’d like to Gazing down to admire them Smell our sweet scent. And did you feel the presence, Chorus Above:
know, “Look out! Mum would call. We’ve been dead for a year, Of those who went before? So, the bar turned into a hospital
A question that keeps vexing me, Dad making one of his slow fires, Awaiting your presence, bed,
Do poets make love rhythmically? Adding leaves to the compost bin, But we have risen, briefly, Just the ghosts of long lost sol- Barmaids to nurses, and a priest
It seems that rhythm plays a part, Making Jam to preserve the fruit, For your pleasure, your eyes, diers, said the lord’s prayer.
Who knew not that they were
In every person’s carnal art, Brewed Elderberry Wine and Sloe The beauty you see, dead, And the demon drink went down
The beat’s important for both Gin, Is the beauty you feel inside, the sink.
things, Oh! those tasty Apple Pies, Our gift to you. Observe. And wandered around the battle- And the surgeon said, “your liver’s
In rutting or good metering, Fish and Chips and Bangers and field, quite dead”.
The poet’s quick on metered feet, Mash, Alien Sky The shouting echoing in their I said, “the new one’s dying for a
His magnum opus to complete, Stewing Steak cooked slow, I can head. drink”...
He crafts his words with playful smell it! by Thomas Hosker Chorus Above:
skill, Excuse me, to the Butchers I’m It all began at sunrise, as flecks of What was it that the Sergeant said,
And bends each phoneme to his making a dash. snow danced in the air Before they went ‘ over the top’? Defeat
will, Frost was slowly thawing from the “Away then, lads, we’ll be home
And when he makes his words to English Roses wintry sunlight glare for tea”. by Robert Anthony
fit, Far off on the horizon a strange Just before the ‘big drop’. What a shot
In rhythm’s structure by quick wit, by Steven Michael Pape bright glow appeared From the spot Once more
It seems to me that it should be, © 2021 Lighting up the sky copper red as Now, a few years later, Fails to score We couldn’t score
That poet makes love rhythmical- Yesterday there was nothing, it crept ever near With peace upon the land, No crowd roar When it mattered
ly. Just several small buds bursting, The sky now looked on fire, with All that’s left is the crosses, Player sad Feeling shattered
So, if like me you want to know, Like a corset too tight to contain. no sun or passing clouds Standing mute in bloodstained Yobs mad Penalties beat us
We lose the game Italy defeat us.
sand.
The answer to this question though Today, English roses red, Which felt like hell on earth, as I It’s a shame Worse to come
You are not sure, quite where to Crafted like art in the night hours, stood there opened mouthed Hate has begun.