Hi John I didn't understand The Stunt, but I love Dingle Dell - it's full of great imagery 'Dingle Dell' is a very atmospheric name, did you get the idea from the old Lindisfarne album Dingly Dell John?

Ta John Knowing is another thoughtful poem and I like its positive message


Thanks Anne - depressing material is as valid as any other, feel free to send anything in!


Great write Scottie - it reminded me of Blake's A Poison Tree.

A Silent Time Has Come Here

No songbird seems to come near,
No flowers grow this way,
A silent time has come here
Affecting every day.

A sign kept up pretences,
It claimed 'Arbeit Macht Frei',
Behind these barbed wire fences
That promise was a lie.

Far from the drums of battle
The busy reaper scythed,
In trains designed for cattle
The prisoners arrived.

Here children knew no laughter,
No toys or lucky charms
But kept forever after
Tattoos upon their arms.

Nobody had committed
A crime or made a slur,
Yet no life was permitted
Because of who they were.

Eyes stared from empty faces
At Auschwitz through the war,
They suffered in these places,
Treblinka, Sorbibor.

Fate points a bitter finger
And yet despite unease,
Eternal voices linger
That call us on the breeze.

Our friends are over yonder
Free of the beating drum
And where they used to wander
A silent time has come.


©

The thread's gone a bit quiet again, but that's normal I'm currently clearing out a lot of old junk from the house - and yesterday I made a great find! lots of print-outs of my earliest poems, I think they were a sort of demo for the first book. It means I can bring them in and copy out some of them here in the library Posting oldies is the best I can manage at the moment, as I'm using most of my spare time to assemble book number two

May

May you spend the hours
Where the bluebells sigh,
May you see the flowers,
Not just pass them by.

May you sit and listen
To a gorgeous song,
May the bright stars glisten
When the night is long.

May you not be greedy,
Value joy and health
Rather than feel needy;
Therein lies your wealth.

And in times of blindness
When life makes you pay,
May an act of kindness
Help you on your way.

May your days be gentle
And if love is planned
May a sentimental
Sunset flood the land.

May you age contented;
When all roads are trod
And the soul's relented
May you find your god.


©

That took my breath away. The ultimate heart rending silence.

Thank you Ann

A silence that screams,
Filled with tears which drown
Was it in our dreams
The putrid satanic crown.

Thanks. Wonderful, I needed that.

Thanks again Musty. "Dingle dell" is just somewhere from distant memory, just for the sound of it really. Glad you liked the pictures The Stunt? Hmm. I just wrote a long explanation (there's a lot in it for a little one) and then decided not to post it.

This is really powerful Ann, was it influenced by my poem about concentration camps?


Dingle Dell - if it doesn't exist, it should do John


Ta Ann

Resting Place

I want to rest concealed from every trace
Of man and when the busy race is run
I yearn to lay down in a tranquil place
To sleep in quietude when life is done,
Where no intruding noise can mar the space
That blends the shadow with the evening sun.

Lost in the haven of my secret vault
At summer's end I'll know the autumns rust
Above me, and when frosty winters halt
And buds of green as ever start to thrust
And lovers sigh, they won't know I am caught
In memories of longing turned to dust.


©

At a loss

At a loss of what to say
seems at times games people play
matter to them and of their way
as of me I stand watch at their display
so who is the lady who pretends her day

Musty, tranquility, a place to rest awhile.

The Breezy Socks


See the socks as they sway
with sun and wind flapping away

Trust

I give you my crystal-thin trust.
Hold it tight.
Keep it safe.

Here’s my love,
as rich as beaten gold.
Float it on your breath.

I give you my heart,
nerve-raw,
blood-flushed.
Clutch it to your breast.
Feel it pulse.

Here’s my soul,
a web of my being.
Wrap it round your neck.
Keep the tension right.

Here’s my life.
Bind it to your body.
Bear the weight.

You’re the keeper now
of my hopes,
my dreams,
ambitions,
emotions,
future.

Hold out your arms.
Take the load.

Now hold out your finger.
Take the gold.

The Archiver.

At first so tiny, hardly there.
Nothing lived for whom to care.
Smaller than the smallest thing.
None to know what it could bring.

A thought occurred and it began
to grow a little and to plan
that one fine day under the sun -
it could reveal all that was done.

The fighting all through thick and thin.
Inviting death to come right in
because of something someone said
like dead is not like really dead.

All joy and sorrow it knew well
and wished for someone nice to tell.

About the size now of a stone.
Desperately still alone.
Uncovered by the wind and tide -
and something strange - a pain inside.

A shell was growing like a crust.
Less meaninglessnessless a must.
Gruesome deeds became sharp edges.
Humans jumping from high ledges.

Then someone simply touched its face.
A member of the human race
had noticed it look kind of strange.
Well defined, but out of range.

It had never felt so grand.
The child began to understand.

Thieves.

Variety is the spice of life,
but not so for religion.
Relentless as a stubborn wife
who steals your indecision.

Got you by the very throat.
Now you may never say
a word against what was wrote
in someone else's day.

Faith so strong does not belong
where twisted men reside.
God knows she would not be wrong
if, just this once, she lied.

Rest


Have you seen the way
there are troubles that waver
amongst the time and a delay
to sit and slowly as you realise
that each a universe along a ray
just walk and if you like then talk
as you then reach home, rest from such a day.

Chance

A monopoly of sorts
given a chance
amongst the direction
where truth has been
as hope will follow
and charity lives.

Feel

Feel the colours of life
through such empty spaces
air inbetween such and light
easing the burden of something
and then nothing but a feeling of might.

There's nothing better Sandy

Wow, so much to read on the thread! I may not get through it all in my allotted library hour, but rest assured every poem will get a response eventually. I'm here to copy out an old poem - I've decided to leave the internet and I've notified my provider. At home I only have my poems on Word document. The internet's a major distraction I'm better off without while the book's in progress

I know the feeling Sandy - people are strange, as The Doors said

This brought back images of Mrs Gotobed's knickers

Wow, an amazing poem about marriage Scottie A situation I've never been in - for better or worse I guess