If self-Isolation is to be the way forward for us oldies, we will need to keep our spirits up and make sure that we have things to do which will occupy our minds. With this in mind Flippa offers us a challenge which will go some way to keeping us positive.Read More
One of our contributors offers some words to help those readers who will be alone this evening while the fireworks will be annoying and depressing them because of the reminder the event may provoke of celebrations that they cannot be a part of this year…Read More
LPG strongly suggests that readers take the time to make a cuppa and exercise a little self-indulgence while celebrating National Poetry Day with this offering… We would also take the time to remind readers that we are always looking for all contributions for our pages….Read More
Rudy takes the time to explore some of the rules surrounding the accepted laws of poetry on this, the eve of National Poetry Day and offers us a conscience-jogging contribution of his own. We would also take the time to remind readers that we are always looking for all contributions for our pages….Read More
Continuous tension bestrides the live long day
The chewing of the fingertips comes into play.
The reaching of the gloves to stop the old decay,
Most needed to keep the nails the way...
...they ought to look and stay...
In the nursery of a new generation,
A child copying mother’s unintended education
Behaviour not designed for the child’s retention
But there, through and past the receipt of his pension...
Makes you think…
I have had the bit of paper with this poem written on it for ages and I have seen other variations of it on the internet but never this one. I can’t remember where I got the slip of paper from and nothing is revealed about its author but I thought it worth sending to you.
Send me no flowers when I am dead,
Visit me while I’m, alive instead
Once inside my coffin, I will not see
So flowers will be no good to me
It’s easy to order a nice bouquet
But I sit here lonely every day
Disabled, not able to walk in the street
So the only company I’m able to meet
Are those who spare the time to call?
Just for a laugh and a chat that’s all
A laugh and a chat I’ll appreciate
Those flowers at my funeral will be too late.
Can you keep my doggy
I don’t want her now
She has grown slow and noisy
And she cannot see somehow
I feel somewhat like a doggy
Owned by society
Does society feel about me
Like I feel about my doggy
No, now I think I’ll keep her
Remembering how much
She’s always done for me
I’d like to stay in touch
CDC, Downham Catford
Whatever you do, wherever you are
Stay close to your God, Don’t stray from the path
Whenever you pray to your Father above
Stay focused, and see what the answer will be
For as you do know and believe in your heart
That your prayers are heard each whenever you’ve prayed
That God is at work fulfilling His plans
It is so good to know we’re all in His hands.
Whatever you do from the moment you pray
Remember that you must trust and obey
In pleasure or pain, your God is right there
Stay focused and let the Lord have His way.
Whenever you pray, say Thank you to God
Be grateful because he hears every word
Whenever you pray, just listen and wait
Always keep focused, God is never too late.
St Matt. 6:6 St Luke 11:1 St Luke 18:1
©2016 by Beverly Gooden-Wilson
Perpetual litter strewn around
City suburb and wayside ground,
An eyesore to vex the spirit
That mars a walk to Bromley town.
Crisp packets and soft drink cans and plastic cups lie near the ‘Crown’.
Vandals scrawl and set cars alight
Anti-social behaviour an all too familiar sight
While locals linger at a ‘take-away’
Discard unwanted chips and greasy batter
But who cares and does it really matter?
Raucous noise on Saturday night
Gulping lager in brand-name cans
Thrown away half full in drunken spree:
Bottled rage by swearing fans.
Burgers wrapped in polystyrene
Dance around as cars speed from the scene,
Non-biodegradable you can be sure of that
Cluttering the High Street or beach flat,
Floating ever visible on a contaminated sea
Blighting our coastal shore or the lea,
Flotsam and jetsam and oiled birds in shame
Discharging tankers should bare the blame,
Viewed from a commuting train on low walls
On bridges daubed mindless graffiti:
The Harlem scourge is here to stay
From London Bridge, Chicago and Tahiti.
A caring authority has placed many bins
But thoughtless people scatter the neighbourhood
With bottles, boxes, tissues and tins.
Who can trace the reckless fellows
That fly-tip building rubble, pallets, lounge chairs on open meadows?
Abruptly ends this irksome verse
The debris of the future could be worse.
Has not the world witnessed the proliferation of litter?
Small wonder observers are saddened and bitter.
B John Plummer, Grove Park
Winter’s far-flung frozen hand
Grips vice-like over all the land.
Soft snowflakes fall upon the ground,
To splash come gaiety around.
Overall, a carpet thick and white
Is spread to fill one with delight.
Yes, quite as far as one can see,
On rooftops, ground and every tree.
White painted splendour covers all,
And still the snowflakes gently fall.
A pair of robins free and gay
From a tree top, chirp away;
Other birds join in as well,
Sweet music soon begins to swell.
The scene is grand – magnificent,
A gift of beauty briefly lent,
Which all too soon will melt away
When wind of change brings warmer day.