Here's a selection of poetry written by some of our members.
Members, if you wish to add something to this page, please email it to [email protected]
Members, if you wish to add something to this page, please email it to [email protected]
Conspiracy Theory
By David Lindsay (April 2020)
By David Lindsay (April 2020)
The apples are out to get us
They poison the air that we breathe
They might look sweet and innocent
But secretly they seethe
The apples are keen to murder
They’ll sting you through their skin
Your hands and face will then blister
And the pain will then really begin
The apples are out to kill us
Each one is rotten to the core
They give off evil vapours
Gamma waves and more
The apples are homicidal
Don’t be tempted by their juice
Imbibing it can be fatal
And cider is just self-abuse
Don’t try to coat them with toffee
Don’t sweeten them up in a pie
Don’t chop them into cute slices
Your kids will eat them and die
It was never the snake that was evil
It wasn’t Adam nor Eve
The apple was the real culprit
That’s what I choose to believe
Eating an apple a day is just crazy
It’ll send you to meet your maker
You might well avoid the doctor
But you’d need an undertaker
We should avoid them completely
Even their pips are satanic seeds
I’m not sure if I can prove it
But I think that’s how they breed
I’ve heard that grapes can be cunning
Can ferment and bottle themselves
Bananas conspire to split and to shake
While limes nightly turn into elves
I sense lemons are nasty and jealous
But that’s kinda more of a hunch
So I stick to beer at parties
And steer well clear of the punch
I hope that this makes the headlines
That they teach it in every school
But please don’t be a martyr
Don’t be a fruit-eating fool
They poison the air that we breathe
They might look sweet and innocent
But secretly they seethe
The apples are keen to murder
They’ll sting you through their skin
Your hands and face will then blister
And the pain will then really begin
The apples are out to kill us
Each one is rotten to the core
They give off evil vapours
Gamma waves and more
The apples are homicidal
Don’t be tempted by their juice
Imbibing it can be fatal
And cider is just self-abuse
Don’t try to coat them with toffee
Don’t sweeten them up in a pie
Don’t chop them into cute slices
Your kids will eat them and die
It was never the snake that was evil
It wasn’t Adam nor Eve
The apple was the real culprit
That’s what I choose to believe
Eating an apple a day is just crazy
It’ll send you to meet your maker
You might well avoid the doctor
But you’d need an undertaker
We should avoid them completely
Even their pips are satanic seeds
I’m not sure if I can prove it
But I think that’s how they breed
I’ve heard that grapes can be cunning
Can ferment and bottle themselves
Bananas conspire to split and to shake
While limes nightly turn into elves
I sense lemons are nasty and jealous
But that’s kinda more of a hunch
So I stick to beer at parties
And steer well clear of the punch
I hope that this makes the headlines
That they teach it in every school
But please don’t be a martyr
Don’t be a fruit-eating fool
To All Those Selfish People
By Sue Booth (April 2020)
By Sue Booth (April 2020)
For goodness sake, what don’t you understand about “lockdown” and “stay at home”?
What makes you think this does not apply to you and that you are still free to roam?
No unnecessary travelling, no congregating in groups, no work, no schools.
We must all, including you, comply, stay at home and obey these vital rules.
Haven’t you noticed that all pubs, restaurants and theatres are closed and dark?
If you keep your distance from others, you are allowed to walk in the local park.
Also, please stop that stockpiling at supermarkets; it is just pure selfishness and greed.
You are depriving many others of good healthy food and supplies they badly need.
For goodness sake, please behave. Social isolation is keeping the virus at bay.
If we all co-operate and work together, we will gradually wipe the disease away.
What makes you think this does not apply to you and that you are still free to roam?
No unnecessary travelling, no congregating in groups, no work, no schools.
We must all, including you, comply, stay at home and obey these vital rules.
Haven’t you noticed that all pubs, restaurants and theatres are closed and dark?
If you keep your distance from others, you are allowed to walk in the local park.
Also, please stop that stockpiling at supermarkets; it is just pure selfishness and greed.
You are depriving many others of good healthy food and supplies they badly need.
For goodness sake, please behave. Social isolation is keeping the virus at bay.
If we all co-operate and work together, we will gradually wipe the disease away.
APRIL
by Linda Kurowski (April 2017)
by Linda Kurowski (April 2017)
Chaucer knew about April,
its sweet smelling showers
piercing the drought of March to the root,
promising new life after winter's shut down.
A month to make plans, set out on pilgrimages.
It's first day for fools like me,
tempted by the magnified heat of the greenhouse,
to sow things too early,
lose them to sudden overnight frosts.
April was Eliot's cruellest month,
mixing memory and desire.
He was happier with a covering of forgetful snow,
warm in winter's oblivion.
It used to be a month for painting eggs,
remembering the rolled-away stone,
celebrating the promise of a better life,
beyond all this planting and sowing,
free from the vagaries of the weather.
Parsley planted on Good Friday
will always germinate,
reminding me of the cycle of life
even before the first cuckoo
or the swallow's return.
Blackbirds cannot contain their joy,
voraciously feeding by day,
serenading us each evening as the light fades.
I feel the season's promise
even as my fingers sting with cold
and the April rain runs down my face.
its sweet smelling showers
piercing the drought of March to the root,
promising new life after winter's shut down.
A month to make plans, set out on pilgrimages.
It's first day for fools like me,
tempted by the magnified heat of the greenhouse,
to sow things too early,
lose them to sudden overnight frosts.
April was Eliot's cruellest month,
mixing memory and desire.
He was happier with a covering of forgetful snow,
warm in winter's oblivion.
It used to be a month for painting eggs,
remembering the rolled-away stone,
celebrating the promise of a better life,
beyond all this planting and sowing,
free from the vagaries of the weather.
Parsley planted on Good Friday
will always germinate,
reminding me of the cycle of life
even before the first cuckoo
or the swallow's return.
Blackbirds cannot contain their joy,
voraciously feeding by day,
serenading us each evening as the light fades.
I feel the season's promise
even as my fingers sting with cold
and the April rain runs down my face.
THE ART OF SPRING
by Anne Broadbent (April 2017)
by Anne Broadbent (April 2017)
Onset of spring each year gives me a buzz,
that chill of winter slowly lessening
while evenings soften to a later dusk;
sweet snowdrops small and white are clustering.
A watery sun paints gold on daffodils,
waits in the greenest hue of growing buds,
the like of which probably never will
be found in any artist’s finest brush.
So nature teaches art in spring renewed,
to capture clarity and look as bold
as her lush strokes of yellows, greens and blues
on canvas; see a masterpiece unfold,
to stun our senses, draw from us a gasp,
impress on us the art of spring at last.
that chill of winter slowly lessening
while evenings soften to a later dusk;
sweet snowdrops small and white are clustering.
A watery sun paints gold on daffodils,
waits in the greenest hue of growing buds,
the like of which probably never will
be found in any artist’s finest brush.
So nature teaches art in spring renewed,
to capture clarity and look as bold
as her lush strokes of yellows, greens and blues
on canvas; see a masterpiece unfold,
to stun our senses, draw from us a gasp,
impress on us the art of spring at last.
Lucy's Lament
by Trevor Alexander (April 2017)
by Trevor Alexander (April 2017)
They sang about Lucy ‘neath marmalade skies,
With slowly responding kaleidoscope eyes
That dwelt on the flowers of yellow and green,
Where the rocking horse people skipped to the scene.
But the cellophane diamonds were pie in the sky,
Made of marshmallow piled ever so high,
In newspaper taxis where we read it all,
And sun in your eyes kept your face to the wall.
The fountain’s still spouting there down by the bridge,
And people so cool ‘cause they live in a fridge;
But boats on the river have all had their day,
And Lucy has long since been taken away.
With slowly responding kaleidoscope eyes
That dwelt on the flowers of yellow and green,
Where the rocking horse people skipped to the scene.
But the cellophane diamonds were pie in the sky,
Made of marshmallow piled ever so high,
In newspaper taxis where we read it all,
And sun in your eyes kept your face to the wall.
The fountain’s still spouting there down by the bridge,
And people so cool ‘cause they live in a fridge;
But boats on the river have all had their day,
And Lucy has long since been taken away.
Thank You Talking Zebras
by Linda Kurowski
by Linda Kurowski
There are times when I'm happy,
times when I'm sad,
times when the world
is driving me mad.
So I sit myself down
with a nice cup of tea,
take out my pen
write some poetry.
Sometimes I'm lucky
the words seem to flow,
sometimes it's hopeless
a real no go.
So I take out a poetry book
and start to read,
old verses or new,
they satisfy a need.
Poetry for the soul
is an essential food,
we all have our favourites
according to our mood.
It's McGough when I'm happy,
Plath when I'm sad,
Cooper Clarke when I'm feeling
rebellious and bad!
Poetry shows us
the beauty of words,
poems have voices
that need to be heard.
At Talking Zebras
we find receptive ears,
we read, we listen,
there's nothing to fear.
Thank you Talking Zebras
for feeding my poetry bug
This poem comes to you
with a metaphorical hug!
times when I'm sad,
times when the world
is driving me mad.
So I sit myself down
with a nice cup of tea,
take out my pen
write some poetry.
Sometimes I'm lucky
the words seem to flow,
sometimes it's hopeless
a real no go.
So I take out a poetry book
and start to read,
old verses or new,
they satisfy a need.
Poetry for the soul
is an essential food,
we all have our favourites
according to our mood.
It's McGough when I'm happy,
Plath when I'm sad,
Cooper Clarke when I'm feeling
rebellious and bad!
Poetry shows us
the beauty of words,
poems have voices
that need to be heard.
At Talking Zebras
we find receptive ears,
we read, we listen,
there's nothing to fear.
Thank you Talking Zebras
for feeding my poetry bug
This poem comes to you
with a metaphorical hug!
A Fair Exchange
by David Lindsay (May 2017)
by David Lindsay (May 2017)
"Wine is sunlight held together by water" - Galileo Galilei
That cold May week in England
with its soggy clouds and sullen skies
seemed to offer little cheer
as the sun meekly went early to bed
But on Italian slopes, she was doing a far better job;
shining with vigour and love
caressing the grapes, forcing a smile
pressing them into action
Yorkshire’s becks and streams did their part, I’m sure
by selflessly drawing and holding the deluge
so those southern vines could prosper
and yield their bounty
So, come October, I’ll treat myself and savour that happy blend
and I’ll be grateful for that cold May week in England
That cold May week in England
with its soggy clouds and sullen skies
seemed to offer little cheer
as the sun meekly went early to bed
But on Italian slopes, she was doing a far better job;
shining with vigour and love
caressing the grapes, forcing a smile
pressing them into action
Yorkshire’s becks and streams did their part, I’m sure
by selflessly drawing and holding the deluge
so those southern vines could prosper
and yield their bounty
So, come October, I’ll treat myself and savour that happy blend
and I’ll be grateful for that cold May week in England
The Bottom Line
by David Lindsay (March 2020)
by David Lindsay (March 2020)
As the Roman Empire dwindled
And left us on our own
Were our ancestors befuddled
As they waved them off to Rome?
Could the darkness that resulted
Have been a happier kind of caper
If those left behind had been more kind
And not hoarded toilet paper?
When William the Conqueror
Brought his army to our shore
Poor Harold tried before he died
And who could ask a bloke for more?
Did his soldiers wonder what went wrong
As the arrow struck his eye
And believe the better strategy
Would have been to have two-ply?
When the Black Death came marauding
Killing one in every three
No-one was left untouched, unharmed
By the menace of the flea
As they inspected all their armpits
And found those fearsome buboes
Were some thinking "I've got bog roll,
so that's something, I suppose"?
As Charles the First and Cromwell
Faced each other in the court
After all the years of fighting
There was one thing Oli sought;
The King's head on the chopping block
Then maybe put up on a pole
But was second on his agenda
To stock up on loo roll?
When London's fire and chaos spread
Out from Pudding Lane
Rich and poor were homeless
Their lives would never be the same
As Wren rebuilt St Paul's and more
Restoring London to her glory
Did he insist on quilted Andrex
Be part of our nation's story?
When the doodlebugs were dropping
And the Luftwaffe was strong
As they put up blackout curtains
Did our forebears get it wrong?
Instead of rationing the nation
And stirring passion with his quotes
Should Churchill have paused the fighting
And just focussed on bum notes?
Now it's our time to be stoic
The NHS is under stress
Hard times are still to come we're warned
And we must do our best
Most are not forced to be heroes
Just to limit trips to town
So can we stop the needless hoarding
And just calm the duck right down?
And left us on our own
Were our ancestors befuddled
As they waved them off to Rome?
Could the darkness that resulted
Have been a happier kind of caper
If those left behind had been more kind
And not hoarded toilet paper?
When William the Conqueror
Brought his army to our shore
Poor Harold tried before he died
And who could ask a bloke for more?
Did his soldiers wonder what went wrong
As the arrow struck his eye
And believe the better strategy
Would have been to have two-ply?
When the Black Death came marauding
Killing one in every three
No-one was left untouched, unharmed
By the menace of the flea
As they inspected all their armpits
And found those fearsome buboes
Were some thinking "I've got bog roll,
so that's something, I suppose"?
As Charles the First and Cromwell
Faced each other in the court
After all the years of fighting
There was one thing Oli sought;
The King's head on the chopping block
Then maybe put up on a pole
But was second on his agenda
To stock up on loo roll?
When London's fire and chaos spread
Out from Pudding Lane
Rich and poor were homeless
Their lives would never be the same
As Wren rebuilt St Paul's and more
Restoring London to her glory
Did he insist on quilted Andrex
Be part of our nation's story?
When the doodlebugs were dropping
And the Luftwaffe was strong
As they put up blackout curtains
Did our forebears get it wrong?
Instead of rationing the nation
And stirring passion with his quotes
Should Churchill have paused the fighting
And just focussed on bum notes?
Now it's our time to be stoic
The NHS is under stress
Hard times are still to come we're warned
And we must do our best
Most are not forced to be heroes
Just to limit trips to town
So can we stop the needless hoarding
And just calm the duck right down?