Grimsby Poets Forums

THE LETTER

I’m writing a letter on parchment
The quill is a feather that’s long
I cut the bottom and split it
Or the writing would turn out wrong.

I’m writing a letter on paper
With an indelible pencil it’s true
I lick it and wet it with my tongue
Now my mouth’s dark blue

I’m typing a letter on an Imperial
That’s qwerty and ever so old
The ribbon has colours of red and black
And the words show up very bold.

I’m writing a letter with a Biro
If not a Biro then a Bic
I’m writing it down in shorthand
With Pitman I write very quick.

I’m writing this on a computer
That’s fast and never takes long
After I’ve used the spell check
Word meanings can still be wrong.

Hi John, like your 'The Letter'.

These days a computer can do more than just spell checking, add grammer checking
and rhyme suggestion and more.

Of course English is becoming Textish - so How R U ??

Hi Clare,

Yes computers can do grammar and more, but the correct spelling is still down to the writer. My daughter says that the children at school find it very hard to spell when they are writing with pen and paper.

Hi John, I see another education 'expert' this week saying to ignore spelling and grammer as 'it slows kids learning' ?!

Like your other post today John, around the switching on tomorrow of the CERN Large Hadron Collider, claimed to maybe create a mystical (or mythical ?) Black Hole. I just wonder if Einstein has been responsible for more science fiction than science fact ?

They say they will reach speeds up to 99.99% of the speed of light, but nothing about trying for the other 0.01% ?
See http://www.new-science-theory.com

Anyway I do not think we will be going anywhere soon.

This poem of mine should bring back a few memories to the older members of the site.

Silky

THESE MODERN TIMES

I would sit and listen
To the wireless, as it was called
Nine till ten was housewives choice
And other good shows I recall:
Family Favourites, Billy Cotton,
Archie Andrews too.
Sam Costa, Charlie Chester
Just to name a few.
Monday morning I’d fire the boiler
For grandma had washing to do,
Mum went off t’ work at mill
To earn a bob of two.
Dad had gone to heaven
Leaving us all alone
We had no Social Service then
We survived all on our own.
Neighbours they were friendly
In my childhood day,
But in this modern time.
Feelings have gone astray
People stay at home alone
No longer saying good-day
And should you need their help
You know you have to pay.
Young ones they don’t bother
The only thing they say
Is, “Sod off, you old bastard,
F**k off out of my way.”
Now in the twenty first century
Youngsters who are ** and bold
Forget that in the future
They too will soon grow old.

Hi Silky,

I loved your poem,
And would like more.
But do feel your one verse,
Would read better as four !

Regards.

Hello Silky,

I always look forward to your poetry and other posts. You always manage to come up with something new when you write of times ancient or times current.

Have you heard that the new US President is allowing his 2 young children to appear on the Hannah Montana TV show by Disney ? Supposed to be as a thank you to Hannah Montana (or Disney ?) for supporting his election campaign.

He is seemingly allowing his kids to make only one TV appearance, as he wants them to concentrate on their education to become writers or whatever really suits them. That sounds very good, as do many of his political promises, but I do wonder if he will be able to actually deliver on any of it. Will his election make any real difference ? I guess the world will have to wait fingers crossed.

ALL FOR NOTHING

Some write about the glory of war
How euphoric it can be
They charged into the Valley of Death
The foe they could not see
Then with a roar like thunder
They’re torn limb from limb
Screaming men and horses
It’s all a terrible sin.

War shouldn’t be portrayed
As a great and gallant deed
But told as it really is…
The truth, is a must, is a need.
For when a war is fought
Both soldier and civilian man
Are killed for the sake of killing
For that is the enemy’s plan.

They want to be more powerful
To show their strength and might
To kill and maim and bomb and tame
To put everyone to fright.
And when it is all over
The widows grieve and cry.
While I sit here and ponder
Oh why, oh why, oh why?

IF ONLY

If only I was in the political game
I’d be the Prime Minister, shooting to fame
I’d put right the country with some flare and fashion
Caring for people with lots of compassion.

If only we all had a real true friend
One who stands by you right up to the end
Who no longer says, “It is you, it is me”
But tells you instead, “It is us, it is we.”

If only I could stop famine and war
Then peace on Earth, would reign evermore
There’d be no hunger, no sickness, or pain
Folks would be happy and smiling again.

If only man round a table sat down I’m sure a solution could easily be found
Then in this world no one need be lonely
We’d all live together. If only...if only.

Hi John,

Nice to read your two new poems, 'If Only' and 'All For Nothing'.
Have you read the free extract of the new poetry ebook available now on this site at dreamweaver poems ? Not bad ?

Looking at a spider from a different point of view

GONE FISHING

Brisk spider,
Spins his web
On air currents of blowing wind, fishing for his dinner.
Dinner over, the web is inspected,
Repairs are made.
Once complete,
Spider waits.

A nice little spider poem Gone Fishing, but for anyone with little love of spiders maybe a little creepy John ?!

Yes Clare,

some people are frightened of spiders, but I wrote this one so that people could look at a spider in a different light and fishing for their dinner is what they do.

RECIPE FOR A POEM

Weigh a few words of two or more
Add breaking lines to tease
Stir in a message or metaphor
Plus a rhythm that rhymes with ease
Bake with mental expressions galore
Then serve with a blending to please.

GAINSBOROUGH’S OLD HALL

About fourteen hundred and sixty
By the side of the River Trent
Gainsborough’s New Hall was built
By a very wealthy gent.

He was Sir Thomas Burgh
A man of great renown
And the beauty of his home
Was talked of all around.

Richard III stopped there
The day was getting late
He rode away next morning
Only to meet his fate.

Henry VIII held a banquet
In this great historic hall
Minstrels singing and dancing
A real medieval ball.

John Wesley a local Minister
In the hall was ever present
His sermons given to everyone
From the Lord to the lowly peasant.

The Pilgrim Fathers did pray
In this great majestic hall
Before sailing to the New World
To answer their religious call.

In fifteen Hundred and ninety-six
The Old Hall it changed hands
Bought by a family called Hickman
Who also purchased the lands.

Now in this year two thousand
The Old hall is a tribute to men
In the town of Gainsborough
A true medieval gem.