The Poetry Thread

[thehipsta 8]

Lest I forget

The house on the corner just up from the green
Wasn’t the grandest that had ever been seen
But it was always kept clean.

The coal in the scuttle, the bread and the jam
The boiling of yesterday’s mutton or ham
Cooked in the family pan.

Those fish and chips Saturdays vinegar sharp
The walk down the street to the falling down park
Motherly hugs in the dark.

And memories dim and come faster to fade
I’m snatching at fragments of forgotten days
The essence of the old ways.
 

__________________
*may contain nuts

[jonathan123 2367]

Hi hip. Have you ever thought of publishing your poems? They are real insights into memory and life. Thanks.     J.

[thehipsta 8]

THE BUS UP TO WHICKHAM


It’s late of course,
As always,
As expected.
As it’s cold...
The block of red tumbles upwards
Dodging speed ramps
And seagulls,
On its migration to the depot.
Hand out the international sign
For stop.

The driver
Sideburns Noddy Holderesque
Takes my coin,
Gives change and ticket.
I am blessed
By the joy of public transport.

I pass my fellow travelers
On the way up the aisle,
The guy who gets off at the next stop
Who I know to nod to,
And the girl who
Knows not of my feelings for her.

Tobogganing round the curves,
A friend once said
We will die here,
I asked him why
He did not reply.
This has always scared me
I always mentally ask the driver to slow
His foot upon the pedal
Here.

Escaping fatality once more,
I enter the final strait
Past the conker trees of youth,
Past the ring of the bell,
To the opening door.

[jonathan123 2367]

Hi hip. The language of poetry is strange. It seems to be able to express far more in a short time than all the prose. Your poem takes me back to the time I had to use public transport. "The block of red tumbles upwards". What more apt desciption of a bus can you get. I hope your poems give others the pleasure they give me. Thanks.    J. 

[esrevni 12]

I came across this in a book I keep in the bathroom... figured I'd share it with you all!

 

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,
And honor will honor meet;
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.

Give sorrow and pity to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne
Though the sowing seemed but vain.

For life is the mirror of king and slave,
'Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best that you have
And the best will come back to you.

 

- Mary Ainge de Vere

[JOYCICLE 654]

Love it Esrevni! 

[thehipsta 8]

Mid Table

 

You've got your Arsenals, your Liverpool’s, 

Your Chelsea’s and your Spurs, 

With both the clubs from Manchester land,

And what occasionally occurs,

Is a club like Aston Villa, or Everton or Hull,

Sneaks into European positions, but

Falls away by Christmas.

 

So I fall away by Christmas

And inevitably stall,

And realise the top of the league

Wasn't feasable at all

 

 

So I'm not a Spurs, I’m not a Red, I'm not an Arsenal,

I'm not a Villa nor a Blue... I'm not even a Hull

I'm a mid to bottom table team who gets Ignored by match of the day

And I pray to all the football Gods it always stays that way.

[jonathan123 2367]

Ho, Ho, too right. I'll settle for the fourth division and stay out of the limelight.   Jon.

[thehipsta 8]

Hehe cheers Jon