JG's Pages for Poets/page8.html

Poem No 51.

The second in these pages from ARTHUR CHAPPELL

SPECIAL DELIVERY

I'm afraid this malaproptic moron
Sold his soul to Santa, not to Satan.
I wish I'd noticed before he signed on
The dotted line in blood, the stupid man
Is all yours, Father Christmas. The contract
Is quite binding but he'll make a good elf
I expect. Shame he didn't make his pact
With me - I'd make him behave himself
Shoving red hot pokers up his jacksie -
Works on my lot down below every time.
In return, why not give me the naughty
Kids' names so I can catch them in their prime?
He's enjoying himself here. I can tell.
But I'm not. This place is as cold as Hell.

Arthur Chappell

This poem, No 52 is the second I have received from Lynn Owen

The Display Cabinet

Today we opened her cabinet

Christened the fine china

resurrected memories

Dad filled the Wedgwood

he couldn't drink from it

he knew it was her favourite

Her cousin chose the cake stand

she'd had her eye on it for years

her sons are antique dealers

My Mum decorated the plates

doily and fancy sandwiches

she wanted a good send off for Nan

I wanted them to put everything back

Poem No 53

from Richie Foy

SHE WAS GRAND

Ashes to the sea on which she was conceived,

never to be old and grey.

This old man speaks words of someone past,

who once gave joy and played.

Fought for a time, the battle lost to stay,

a star, a twinkle, a smile,

in this universal episode of life.

The core of her existence prayed for,

to no avail.

God took our angel,

our star,

our twinkle,

our smile,

our grand-daughter,

home.

Richie.

Poem No 54

by AB

Winking at an inkling

Writing Verse
Writing Prose
Beginning to curse
Anger grows

Writers block
Writers cramp
Ticking clock
Flickering lamp

Easy to write
Words just for me
Hard to excite
Readers to be

Means much to me
Nothing to you
The things I see
The things I do

Poem No 55

by MH

Secret springtime

Lilting , not wilting
lifting ,drifting
seeking the sky
shyly, slyly
a sleepy sign
spring winds bring life
though never evergreen
my new-born thorns aren't as dour as they seem..