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POEMS
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PARADISE
Oh the glory of that morning Walking naked, unashamed God’s own glory as our covering Joyful, sharing, unafraid
Clothed in skins of his dear creatures Shame now excludes us from that bower Lost our joy in glad communion Pain and sorrow follow now
Lost the glory of that garden ‘Gainst thorns and briars must we toil Bringing children forth in labour Relationships by sin now spoiled.
Had we but trusted Him who made us For his pleasure and his joy Why did we listen to Satan’s whispers And taste the fruit that must destroy?
Yet Christ is come to vanquish Satan Joy of Paradise restore Come now, taste the fruit he offers, Joy and peace for evermore.
Pauline Lewis, Porthcawl
PRACTICE NURSE
Our lady with the lamp, Whose light burned with tobacco embers, Illuminated hearts and souls, And wounds and stitches. Quenched the bravado of youth, With caustic pencil. Dressed, with crepe and wool, The decay of age. With cruel kindness, Jabbed unsuspecting babies; And with careless truth, Declared faces only a mother could love. Checked her off-duty for the last time, Her last patient, sent out. (For Ceri)
Jan Kletta, Bridgend
BUTTONS (Charity Box)
Red and yellow, green and blue. Some with four holes, some with two. Sort and count them, mix and match. Some are odd ones, that’s the catch. Some are shaped, like pretty flowers. Hundreds here, it could take hours.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. That must be twelve, oh no eleven. Put them in a little bag, What to write upon the tag? Buy ten buttons, get one free, And all for only 20p.
Judy Dee, Porthcawl
HOW TIMES CHANGE
Times have changed so the saying goes, Nothing ever seems to stand still, Until you get to be elderly, Then there’s lots of time to kill.
In my day we never stayed indoors, We always went out to play, Especially in the summer, There were endless hours in the day.
We played hopscotch and catch the ball, But now it’s all click and shoot, We loved a good game of rounders, Or cricket, it was such a hoot.
So what will our children remember, When they get to this fine age? A memory of screens and four walls all around, Like living in a man made cage?
So being elderly in the 21st century, Is really not all that bad, We’ve lots of memories for us to enjoy, All those fun times that we have had!
Marilyn Cook, Bridgend
THE GOD OF DREAMS
It glides rapidly across the foggy streets like a shadow on a wall. It sneaks swiftly, careful to make no sound. It climbs cautiously through windows to deliver dreams while the wind whistles and howls like a wolf. The trees sway and dance in the twinkly light. The sky mumbles with anger, the grey sky cries with torrential rain. A million loud lightning bolts split at the ground. Then BANG, BAP, BANG, the floor feels Zues’ might. A gorgeous glittery powder surrounds the room enveloping the shadowy figure in shining light, what a phenomenal sight. It backs out the window, suddenly disappearing with an enormous BANG, BAP, BANG!
Carmen Rees (aged 11) Porthcawl
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