Readers’ Poems Jan/Feb 24

Bench

BY DAVID DRIVER

A bench
Nothing complicated
Nothing sophisticated
Sit, rest, unwind,
never out-dated
A place to sit
A place to lie
Talk to loved ones
Play I spy
Listen to the birds sing
Watch the sky
Enjoy a coffee
Enjoy a tea
Tasty corned beef sandwich,
just for me
Bench in sunshine
Bench in snow
Time is constant
Where does it go?
Me and the bench
The bench and me
In the park,
underneath the silver birch tree

The Waiting Game

BY THERESA NEW

Your call is important
You’re in queue position …ten
Oh, please don’t say I must endure
This whole charade again

All this to fix the heating
It conked out late last night
I was trying to dry some jumpers out
It gave me such a fright.

No heating…No hot water
What’s a girl supposed to do?
I can’t get warm this morning
And my hands are turning blue.

Your call is important
You’re in queue position…..nine
I refuse to be harassed by this
Don’t ask me…but I’m fine

Please be patient, the message says
I’m in queue position…. eight
My appointment’s not til half past
So I’m sure I won’t be late

Wilbur’s up to mischief
And again, he’s cut his nose
Can’t say if it’s from fighting
Or a thorn from next door’s rose

Just lately, he’s a naughty cat
Cuts my patience to the quick
Oh, please pick up this wretched phone
It really makes me sick

We know that you are waiting
You’re in queue position…..seven
I’m absolutely starving
And must be there by half eleven

Your call is so important
You’re in queue position….six
If I can’t put Wilbur in his box
I’m really in a fix

They said I must be punctual
They’re really overbooked
So if I don’t arrive on time
My goose is well and truly cooked

Your call is most important
You’re in queue position…five
There are beads of sweat
upon my brow
Will I get out of here alive?

I know just what will happen
This call will make me late
They’ll push 10 dogs in front of me
I’ll rapidly lose weight

We know that you are waiting
You’re in queue position…..four
Perhaps if I wedge half my foot
I could be in AND out the door

I’m in queue position three now
There’s so much I need to do
But I’m hanging on a land-line
With my mobile down the loo

I dropped it there this morning
While I tried to take a call
It’s somewhere up the U-bend
And I’m somewhere up the wall

Please don’t worry says the message
You’re in queue position…..two
We know that you are waiting
And we’ll quickly put you through

So I’m sitting on the stairwell
Wondering how it came to this
Wasting precious lifetime moments
Instead of living it in bliss

I’m listening to some music
The kind that I detest
And Wilbur’s up the curtains
Oh, he’s really such a pest

Where did I put the cat box?
Is it underneath the stairs?
Will he let me cram him in it
Once I’ve caught him unawares?

 

Oh why is nothing simple
In this chaotic life of mine?
Does it all seem too impossible
To live a life on time?

You are nearly there, the message says
You’re in queue position….one
At last to hear a human voice
Could the endless queue be gone?

And so I hear some breathing
And a gentle female cough
When Wilbur sits upon the phone
And promptly cuts me off

Retrieval

BY WENDY READ

You live so far away
almost lost and unaware how much
I’d like to ride my bike again
over the moors with wheeling curlews
drawn on by drumming grouse
to where you live so far away
in Keld at road’s end
below ancient mine tracks and
I’d like to ride my bike again
through the valley’s grey villages
with their weathered stone faces.
Why must you live so far away?

In spring, when Aysgarth Falls thaw
and green fronds thrust through brown bracken
I’ll return to ride my bike again
with the wild, wide freedom
of a Yorkshire sky and find that place
where you live, so far away.
Together we’ll ride our bikes again.

A  Love of Walking

BY JULIE CROSTON

I love to go out walking in the fresh morning air,
Come rain or shine nothing can quite compare.
Taking in the beautiful, lush Lancashire landscape,
This breath-taking scenery is my joyful escape.

Walking is the best thing for my heart and for my head,
And a great way to get me out of my warm sleepy bed.
Keeping the body fit, looking after my mental health,
No need for money and fast cars
when you’ve got that kind of wealth.

Passing other walkers counting greetings along the way,
Especially when the sun shines, we have so much more to say.
Seeing the season pass, watching nature grow,
Setting a fast pace or taking it nice and slow.

Walkers are a plenty with dogs every size and breed,
Owners sauntering calmly, dogs pulling on the lead.
Back home so soon, happy smile and cheeks so pink,
Looking forward to tomorrow, will be back there in a blink.

Did Those Witches?

BY STUART HARTLEY

Those witches, did they fly at night
o’er the top of Pendle’s height?
Did they cackle and did they screech
and did they the Devil meet?

Did they gather at Malkin Tower,
there to stir the demon’s power?
Did they dance and frolic all night,
hubble and bubble, toil and fright?

As they stirred their cauldron’s brew,
did they drink its steaming spew,
then to cast a demon’s spell,
hither and thither some foe to fell?

When all were condemned to die,
did they glare an evil eye;
curse and spit at all asunder,
venom, bile and claps of thunder?

Let us be then more enlightened,
judging not as those frighted;
may we see o’er Pendle’s heights
a flight of broomsticks on dark nights.

Escaping the Box

BY CIRQUEDULIA CIRQUEDULIA

These insects project and inject their toxins.
It’s complex, I’m perplexed and I feel boxed in.
We are trapped inside this system that wants us as its victims.
Its trying to change our very existence,
It was our mission to make peace and then it got twisted.
I had a vision that started innocent but you insisted sat there
tight-fisted
Contorting with precision, each word each decision
Every collision caused incision after incision
Wounding my soul trapping it in prison.
seeking out my wisdom then becoming distant.
I sat and listened, I guided and gave you assistance.
I sat and I hurt, I cried and regretted my very existence.
I tried and I tried I was so persistent
But then it stopped. My heart could feel the distance
My self worth diminishing
It’s crippling
I miss innocent giggling
But you’re administering this pain.
And my life isn’t just a game to be played
I feel more than betrayed, more than afraid
Of what my life has become
Wrapped around your thumb
This cannot be the outcome.
I will not succumb
I will not wait for this outcome
I will make my own
I will craft my throne without your hands
Without your demands or an ounce of romance
With no demands

Are you a budding poet who would like to see your prose in print, then share your work and send your poems to poems@looppublishing.co.uk or go to northernlifemagazine.co.uk/contribute

NorthernLife Jan/Feb 24