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Audrey - Poetry Writer Part 2
 
 
The first of these three poems was inspired by the service held in our Church for my late friend, I'm sure she would approve.
     
The Church Unwanted Guest Summer Time

In the middle of our village
Stands a church old and worn
It's not pretty, just rugged
It's part of it's charm.

Inside needs attention
Re-painting and making trim
But there's a warmth about it
There's a welcome within.

No clock to mark the hours
Of each passing day
A bell to ring the tidings
Be they mournful or gay.

Just a tired old church
Sandstone mellow and worn
The beating heart of the village
Since the day it was born.

He comes uninvited
In the middle of the night
Touching with his breath
Everything in sight.

Sleeping birds tremble
As he passes by
Bushes turn white
In the blink of an eye.

Welcome is the dawn
Bringing back the sun
Warming up the air
Frost's visit is done.

Summer time and the days are long
Though the nights are short for me
And the birds outside my window
Singing loudly in the tree.

The doves cooing on a neighbour's roof
As dawn brings back the light
Require little sleep it seems
Adding to my restless night.

A Foxes' call across the fields
Disturbs a dog that barks
Two cats squabbling on the lawn
Awaken me with a start.

Who ever said for peace and quiet
Live in the countryside?
But when all is said and done
For me, it's the only place to reside.
  This one is a complete contrast, it comes from listening to people talking to or about each other.
This one comes from a recent holiday in Italy.
     
If I Could Why? Pallanza Bells  

If I could leave my body
I'd fly out among the stars
I'd take a look at Pluto
After whizzing by Mars

Take a trip to shimmering Mercury
Then a slide down Saturn's rings
I'd wonder round the Milky Way
And ride the solar winds

I'd scoot around myriads of stars
In systems as yet unknown
Oh I could see so many things
If only I could roam

Why is it you put someone down
With a scathing look or word?
Why is it that you give no thought
To the distress you cause to others?
Why is it that you must always be right
Dismissing other points of view?
Why can't you see that you anger and annoy
Turning friendship away from you?
Why is it when you cause upset
Do you never feel ashamed?
Why is it when you read these words
Do you think, "it can't mean me", Why?

Pallanza's Church tower
Stands proud and tall
It's clock tells the time
And bells remind all

They ring out merrily
Across the roof tops clear
Singing a joyous song
That lingers on the air

Every day it is the same
Twelve o'clock tune
Telling all the town
it's noon, it's noon, it's noon
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Audrey - Poetry Part 1 
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Page by: © Audrey Goodwin Apr 2011
audrey@tappin-family.org.uk
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This next poem was written as a tribute to our brother Clive who passed away in November 2008. This poem is all about words.

     
Feel the Joy Words Early Start

Tread the paths we roamed together
Do not be sad along the way
Think only of our great pleasure
And contentment at the end of day

Take those walks around Ambleside
On the footpath to Wansfell Pike
Follow the trail to Stock Gill Force
Set off in early morning light

Cross the fields on zig-zag tracks
Walk by that rippling stream
And reach High Sweden Bridge
Admire the rugged beauty of the scene

Do not grieve that I am no longer there
I know where you now tread
Rejoice in what we've done together
Roam Langdale for me instead

Some words I cannot spell
And others are difficult to say
They twist the tongue and mind
So a dictionaryís my mainstay

I find all manner of meanings
When searching through its pages
And look up fascinating facts
Though reading it takes ages

For instance fillip is a stimulus
Made by the nail on a finger
Spirit a supernatural being
Or a drink, on this Iíll linger

Inebriate is a rounded word
Slipping neatly from the tongue
Perhaps itís time to drink those spirits
And have ourselves some fun

Perfidious means disloyal or dishonest
While unctuous, suave and smarmy
Perhaps one day Iíll use those words
At least thatís my current theory

Consulting my newest thesaurus
Two words catch my eye
Clingy, sticky mucilaginous
Or is accrete the one to try

No matter what Iím writing
I can enhance my prose
From dictionary or thesaurus
By using words like those

When going away on holiday
Travelling by bus, car or plane
We would be hours too early
Our timing was ever the same        

Weíd set off prematurely
To find our camping site
Missing all the traffic
By travelling overnight

Motorways are a nightmare
When towing at just one speed
Drivers get so impatient
Ignoring other road users needs

Now we use the slower roads
Weíve plenty of time to spare
Still arriving at our destination
Early or late, we no longer care.
These next two were written as autumn poetry
This next one appears in our April 2010 Family Magazine
     
Ballet in the Sky Tomorrow Comes February Holiday

In dribs and drabs they gather
From north, south, east and west
Birds coming to roost together
In a way that works the best

The sky is black with starlings
Moving with energy and grace
Like ballet dancers swaying
In great waves across their space

All at once the dance is over
As they settle in the trees
Chattering loudly together
Feathers ruffling in the breeze

Night time holds no fears
For starlings as they sleep
As long as they dance together
In safety they will keep


Chill winds greet each new day
As swift and swallow wing their way
Back to lands far across the sea
Leaving behind our hospitality

Nests abandoned and forlorn
No longer safe, cosy and warm
Skies bereft of acrobatic flight
Seem emptier from morn to night

Nature enters a slower pace
Time for autumn to show her face
Leaves turned red, gold and brown
One by one shrivel and tumble down

Deciduous trees proudly stand
Naked across our cold, cold land
Till one dawn a warm wind blows
And miraculously a new leaf grows

Going on holiday in February
Not my favourite thing to do
But the cottage is warm and cosy
And has the most excellent view

I donít ever tire of seeing it
Be there hail, snow or rain
Itís quite fascinating really
Hour by hour never the same

Across fields of green to a hill
With a castle sat right on the top
Beyond it the sea stretches
From north to south non-stop

The sun highlights the castle
Till fog rolls in from the sea
Hiding castle and fields quickly
Then thereís nothing left for me

Going on holiday in February
Is an interesting thing to do
In a cottage thatís warm and cosy
With a most excellent view
This next one was written especially for the wedding of our brother David to Josie
This poem comes from remembered discussions with my late brother Brian; there was a depth to him that perhaps others did not see.
     
Together Election 2010 My Brother Brian

Iíd never thought Iíd see the day,
our Dave would say ďI doĒ.
I always hoped heíd find someone,
Josie, Iím glad itís you.

To see you both so happy,
brings joy to all our hearts.
With family and friends around you,
your journey together starts.

The past has been written,
the future an empty book.
Waiting to be filled,
I wish you the very best of luck.


Thereís been a general election
But nothing was settled at all
Though one party won more seats
The others can gang up and stall
After weeks of wooing the voters
Pulling apart their opponents plans
Saying how much we need a change
Itís `letís work together, shake hands`
Yes, weíve got a hung Parliament
An alliance is made as policies bend
Rare for this country of ours
Minorities the winners in the end

Our Brian was quite a thinker
In his own special way
Heíd sit for hours quietly
Contemplating the day

We had many a discussion
In those later years
About the meaning of life
And our hopes and fears

He thought long and hard
About earth and the stars
What we were here for
And was there life on Mars

He hoped we were not alone
That just couldnít be true
He always believed
There were others out there too

Yes he was quite a thinker
Not noticeably bright
But he wanted to know things
To make the universe seem right

You wouldnít know just by meeting
My brother for a drink
That he looked into the heavens
Or what deep thoughts heíd think
New Apr 2011 New Apr 2011
The Question I wish

I came across a photograph
just the other day
when looking through a box
of things Iíd put away.

I thought long and hard
to remember that time
when I was very young
and all the world was mine.


What dreams did I have
for my life yet to come
had I great ambitions
or maybe I had none.

Things seemed so simple
just rest work and play
never being responsible
for anyone elseís day.

If I had seen into the future
those many years ago
would I have changed direction?
I guess Iíll never know.


I wish I had a wish to use
Iíd travel instantly through time
Be there at the very beginning
When earth was just primeval slime

Watch creatures unheard of
Become animals or birds
See huge beasts gather
To graze like cattle in herds

Iíd like to see Stonehenge
In the process of being built
Moving great blue stones
To stand upright or tilt

Perhaps see Queen Boudicca
Upon Englandís battlefields
Avenging wronged daughters
Till death makes her yield

Watch uncrowned Matilda
Escape Stephen, her foe
Dressed in all white robes
To flee un-noticed in the snow

See Christopher Wrenís London
After the fire has raged
His design for St Paulís Cathedral
Take shape, page by blessed page

There are so many happenings
In Englandís rich history
So many famous people
I know Iíll never get to see

I wish I had a wish to use
To travel backwards through time
Hours would become seconds
Every century would be mine.
This poem was inspired by my elderly friends who so often tell me that they can remember things from many years ago far easier than what they did last week. Carrying on with the subject of memory, those of you that have an aged parent will recognise the sentiments behind this next poem. This one was in our Family Magazine during 2006. This one was in our Family Magazine during 2007.
       
Recompense Mum and Her Dog That Word On the Village Green

A treasury of memories
Tumble into my mind
I begin to remember
Things I had left behind.

They slip from my memory
They never seem to last
In no recognisable order
Just blasts from the past.

There'll be a conversation
Or a face long gone
That brings a whole episode
Of life when we were young

You'll know what I'm talking about
As you grow older my dear
It's like reading a book
With the printing unclear

Some things are best left forgotten
But you can't pick and choose
For if you close the book
Then good memories you'll lose.

Some throw me in at the deep end
With a sound, a touch, a smell
Bringing back many reminders
Of things I'd never tell.

There could be compensation
In growing old you know
But you have to find out for yourself
For in my mind you cannot go.

At ninety five Mum's entitled
To wander down Memory Lane
Lingering ever longer
Till past and present are the same.

Some days she remembers us
When we come to call
Forgetting as we leave
That we've been there at all.

Yet her world has been entered
By Sandy, a stuffed toy
He's brightened her days
Bringing both comfort and joy.

She shows him off proudly
When we enter her room
Her world has more meaning
Dispelling all gloom.

Like a piece of a puzzle
That has slipped into place
The difference in her
Shows in her face.

She's filling her days
In the world that she knew
Should we feel resentment?
Or hope that we live there too?

It's a sad old word, eventually
Putting off what you could do today
We'll do that eventually
Never, is more honest to say.

Ther's always that word eventually
The time will be right one day
Till too late you'll realise
That time has slipped away.

So you never go eventually
On that journey you promised to do
Always doing things eventually
Now! is better for you.

Eventually you'll follow your dreams
Till you let them fade away
Eventually is always tomorrow
And never, ever today!

Dressed in his whites
And twirling his bat
He strides across the green
Casually watched by the visiting team.

A ball is bowled
The batsman strikes
Owzat! the visitors call
The Umpire solomnly shakes his head, No Bal!

The games goes on
The runs mount up
Till that one stinging clout
And the Umpire calls OUT!

His head held high
He doffs his cap
To those watching at the scene
Of cricket on the village green.