Poem No 247 from Roger Taber

THE GUARDIANS

Sentinel of times past, guardian-protector,

Scarborough’s castle at the turn of its bays

keeps vigil on the town like a zealous lover

Of battles, banquets, hear its walls murmur,

rage, grieve, yearn… for halcyon days;

sentinel of times past, guardian-protector,

Nearby, the uplifting spirit of a great writer

lends grace to a modern world’s ways,

keeps vigil on the town like zealous lover

Brave nautical eye of a veteran grandfather

watches out at night for harbour strays;

sentinel of times past, guardian-protector

Earth Mother, bidding heaven come nearer

as pools of light on the sand drop away;

keeps vigil on the town like a zealous lover

As sea to sand, a community come together,

so History, humanity’s present terror allays;

sentinel of times past, guardian-protector,

keeps vigil on the town like a zealous lover

Copyright R. N. Taber

Poem No 248

by Alpha

dream-roads

somewhere along our dream-road

children cry

asking why-o-why

did you make those decisions

of course, we lie

conveniently forgetting shameful reasons

and simply try

to get on with the consequences

the dream-road is there

for many to share

exhausted and bare, few tread it with grace

most fall flat on the face

a slippery road, muddy and cold

yet in our dreams the road always gleams

with hopes and golden fruit to enjoy

a dangerous ploy

sold to children, the innocents and the needy

Poem No 249

Gina Riley's

SHADES OF SCHUMACHER LEVY

Easy enough on a summer's evening

night not due for hours

sun descending powder pink on house and garden

to play 'I spy' indoors, on solar stars.

Easy to switch channels

(while lounging in a chair)

follow the orbitof a passing comet

heading for annihilation

take remote control

of blazing hair

But in the light of a personal sphere

regress, recoil

to almost anything

Just as well to be blasé. Smiling

switch off.

Catch up with Schumacher-Levy

after the nine o'clock news

the house a pool of smaller lamps

night scented pinks far sweeter for the gloom.

Play computer games like God

postpone all hell, till news is rife

with humour of a good-damned world.

In the twilight

listen to someone playing a cello

while Jupiter burns.

Poem No 250

another poem from Roger Taber

LET THE MUSIC PLAY

I creep up on you as time passes by;

you sense my presence but unsure

how or why it should make you feel

different from the way you thought

you were (as told) not so many years

before, when childhood games took

their cue from history, the mysteries

of adulthood waiting in the wings

for its mortal gamut to be run

I seize upon your senses as they wake

to the challenges of peer pressure,

parental expectations, private desires

lighting fires in the heart, ambition

conspiring with aspiration to indulge

the mind its appetite for a fate far better

than mapped out at school or around

the kitchen table. Yet, I too, am here

and you less able to suss me out?

I will pluck at your nerve strings until

you recognize the tune I play and let

it loose on heart, mind, body and soul

though (for a while at least) you share it

with no one, unsure how. Now, choose.

Play out the most beautiful song you will

ever hear or let me go, follow a safer

course, give ambition (or convention?)

a stronger, louder (better?) voice

Only, listen to the music and let it play,

this gene that says, “I’m gay.”