A poem by my friend – Neville Raper.

Housey Housey House Plant

Never been outside Plant

Does he miss his chlorofil mates

Unedible and edible he sees on plates

I realise that I called him a he

I wonder what he thinks of me

 

I water him about once a week

I often sing, but always speak

I heard that this will help him grow

It might not work, I’ll have a go

 

And if he grows so very high

Then I’ll climb him up into the sky

Like Jack and his stalk, I’ll vertical walk

With goose and giant, I’ll have a talk

 

I’ll see if I can take the treasure

To spend and use to my own pleasure

But right now, he’s two inches high

So I’ll sing as I water supply

 

Neville Raper.

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Roundhay Park, Leeds.

My mum first took me here,

Wheeling me in my pushchair.

 

In later years, holding mums’

Hand, we walked there.

 

We liked to go, to feed the

Duck and pat the donkeys.

 

With friends in the snow.

We walked, pulling our sledges

 

We sledged down the hill and

We threw snowballs and rolled.

 

With friends, on our bikes,

We went to see the cycle races

 

In a teenaged group, we went

Happily, in a large noisy group.

 

When in late teens, I went with

a boyfriend, courting, seriously.

 

After marriage, and leaving Leeds

I could only think of Roundhay Park/

 

Where I left a little part of me.

Memories to be kept within me, forever.

Mary Oliver: Mornings at Blaack Water.

What I want to say is

that the past is the past,

and the present is what your life is,

and you are capable

of choosing what that will be,

darling citizen.

So come to the pond,

or the river of your imagination,

or the harbour of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.

And live

your life.

Mary Oliver, from Mornings at Blackwater

 

‘Flash’ Poetry.

The  Seaside.

Sea, sand, kids and dogs.

Ice cream, hot chocolate.

Pizza for tea.

Don’t want to go home!

 

Moon.

Moon, Oh! Moon,

Where are you tonight?

Behind the clouds,

Out of sight!

 

Seagulls.

Seagulls hover,

watch you eating

You can see

What they are thinking

Sun/rain.

There’s the sun gone again.

The sky’s gone dull, quick RUN!

Here comes the rain, rain, rain

Furry Animals.

Do you like furry animals?

That you can cuddle and love.

Stroking their backs and ears.

Looking into their bright eyes.

And if they have one – see tails wag.

Rainbow.

High in the sky a rainbow

Appears, so pretty after the rain.

Its bright arch has gold at its ends.

 

Housey, Housey, Houseplant.

Housey Housey House Plant
Never been outside Plant
Does he miss his chlorofill mates
Unedible and edible he sees on plates
I realise that I called him a he
I wonder what he thinks of me

I water him about once a week
I often sing, but always speak
I heard that this will help him grow
It might not work, I’ll have a go

And if he grows so very high
Then I’ll climb him up into the sky
Like Jack and his stalk, I’ll vertical walk
With goose and giant, I’ll have a talk

I’ll see if I can take the treasure
To spend and use to my own pleasure
But right now, he’s two inches high
So I’ll sing as I water supply

WW1 The Army is Recruiting.

WW1. The Army is Recruiting.

In 1914, the Army was visiting

Villages, looking for strong young

Lads. Necessary, for the War Effort.

They had to be strong lads, with a

Certain height and chest measurement.

Selecting the Villages best

Parents happily signed forms.

Their son was ‘Doing his bit.’

Excited sons, looking forward to going

The day came, A Band arrived to lead

The teenaged sons away from home.

Proud boys followed the band.

Trains took boys to camp,

For Basic Training. Officers taught

The boys to March and to ‘Know their place.’

Wearing new but ill-fitting Uniforms, nervous

New Recruits wondered what awaited

Across the English Channel in France.

‘It will be over by Christmas.’

Rang in their ears, anxious now,

Of thoughts of all left behind.

Landing in France, then marching,

Marching into the War Zones.

Bolstering up each other’s courage.

They cannot have imagined what

War was, or meant. The tree-less

Countryside, the Trenches and noise.

Going forward to Front Lines, to go

‘Over the top!’, their fears, the smell.

The knowledge that this day could be a last.

Death, destruction, demoralised and

Distressed boy soldiers remembered

Mum’s dinners and apple pie.

Unable to cope with the lack of comfort,

Some poor distraught boys ran away.

Not meaning to the desert but getting out.

The sick and frightened children were

Captured, returned to base, tried and

Sentenced to be Shot at Dawn.

Officers chose their Pals or colleagues

To join the Firing Squads and pull the triggers.

The Order was given, Bang! A boy dies.

Of those boys left behind, hopes and spirits

Die too, never to rise again. This War, that

Begun as an adventure turned into destruction.

What did the once proud parents and

Villagers feel like when they were

Informed the Village boys were

Shot at Dawn,

For Cowardice or Desertion.

Early Morning Light.

Early Morning Light.                                              (6.00 a.m., 18.8.17)

My coughing woke me up.

Unable to lay down any longer,

I collect my clothes

not wanting to disturb my

sleeping husband.

Stumbling down the stairs,

clinging to the bannister.

I make a cup of coffee

and take it into the

living room.

Opening the curtains

there it is, my street!

Suddenly.

it is filled with early

morning light, brown tiled

roofs are flushed by the

rising sun.

The tree in the garden,

It’s lime green leaves turned

bright gold.

Looking down the street,

The sky is pink and golden.

Grey cotton-wool clouds dot

the sky.

The intensity of the

early morning light takes my

breath away.

The sun is not yet in sight

yet, but its power and

brightness make me know that

morning has broken.

Yes, it is worth being

awake so early to see

the sun rising.