2nd July 2017
Hi Everyone
It’s been a while since I last wrote here and very happy to tell you that we’re getting more and more entries for the poetry competition.
Because now I’m running it in the Barnet Borough Times as well as the Harrow Times, we have two winners each month and so your chances of winning are doubled. So please keep on entering.
This month the subject is Nostalgia and I need entries of no more than twenty lines by the 27th July.
I’ll be hosting an Open Mic evening at Gayton library on the 19th July with Nostalgia being the theme. Come along with a few poems (your own or simply favourites) and join us. It’s informal and very friendly - I promise you a warm welcome.
I’ll also be speaking at a Summer Literary Evening run by Pinner Writers’ Group on Thursday 13th July at St John Fisher Parish Centre, Imperial Drive, North Harrow, HA2 7LW. If you’d like to come please get in touch with me at the regular email address.
Our winning poet on the theme of Flying High in the Barnet Borough Times was by Helen Cynthia Feldman
FLYING HIGH by Helen Cynthia Feldman
I once read of a man
who meant to carve a noble statue
to the glory of God
but he was always doing things for others
and had not started it
When on his deathbed
a voice from heaven said
‘How glad we are you never had time for the little thing
that you had set your heart on,
and instead were doing the great things that really mattered’
All there knew he had died a happy man
You see, if you do not fulfill your dream
you may do something better after all
and the winner of the Harrow Times was Ivor Segal with his poem
THE DIVINE ARTIST by Ivor Segal
At night he paints the sky with stars
Then morning sees his palette alter
He plies his brush with colours bold
With magic strokes that never falter.
The sun is rendered burning gold
Against a background pink and blue
White fluffy clouds complete the scene
Evening shows a different view.
Heavenly magic paints the sky,
Purple, red, cerulean too,
Celestial paintbox flying high
Colours earth with a magic hue.
Human painters try their best
To emulate these works of art
But all their works have never caught
The magic... at their heart.
Other excellent poems were:
FLYING HIGH by Sukriti Bisht (age 11)
My brother opens up his wings, And from our branch he springs.
He flaps around in the air helplessly, Failing again and again but trying relentlessly.
We think he's hilariously dim, We shout and jeer and laugh at him.
Every bird in my family could fly, On at least their second try.
Wings too short, legs too big, body too small, He was a failure- a disgrace to us all.
One day he decided to fly again, For the very last time he explained.
He leapt out into the air, Murmuring a quiet prayer.
He did not drop down but swooped up in the sky, And gosh, I've never seen a bird fly so high!
He taught us that even if you are faced with sneers, If you want to succeed you should persevere.
FLYING HIGH by Naomi Caplin
I could be flying high after snorting up cocaine
But I would rather eat a chocolate biscuit
Flying high in a plane on my latest holiday
Or learning to fly a helicopter
Don’t know how high air balloons manage to go
Flying to the moon is a trifle too high for me, however pretty and handsome the astronauts are
Joining friends to fly kites on Primrose Hill
Maybe paragliding with wings like Icarus would be fun
But without his terrible fate
Meantime in my dreams I am an eagle flying proud and free
FLYING HIGH by Lisa Cohen
When I was young and in my prime I never thought the march of time
Would creep up on moisturised me. Yet mirrors don't lie. It's plain to see
Pot holes and wrinkles etch my face Bags under eyes could fill a case
We're by- passed here... Monitored there. We lose our teeth...We lose our hair.
To get around, take your pick A Zimmer frame or walking stick
Dodgy hips. Wobbly knees Forgetting names. Losing keys
A well known fact, brain cells recede Slyly overtaking thought and deed
Sound familiar? . You want a change? Positive thinking is good. Now re-arrange
Small steps to freedom. Use time well. Age is just a number. Kick miseries to hell.
Don't aim to go flying to the moon You have the stars. Make it soon..
FLYING HIGH by Peter Collins
I'm flying high o'er wind and o'er rain,
I'm now on 'cloud nine', I'm in love again,
Through the wilderness years, through a desert storm,
I've now found someone who will keep me warm,
Through the cold winter nights and through my misery,
She will always be there, to comfort me.
I'm flying high, I'm so happy inside,
The feelings that I have, I find difficult to hide,
How lucky I am at my time of life,
To find such a woman to wash away my strife,
This lady is perfect, so lovely is she,
Just five foot one, and as sweet as can be!
A great personality, and considerate too,
The men all stare when she comes into view,
Her highlighted hair, that smile on her face,
Her slimlike figure, and so full of grace,
I'm sure everyone who reads this will sigh,
Thank God for my Linda, now I'm flying high!
FLYING HIGH OR NOT SO HIGH
By John M. Clarke
Flying high is relative
So I hope you will forgive
If it isn’t quite the right height
From a plane look on the sea
Where the shipping seem to be
Standing still, causing me delight
Flying high, but somewhat low
Through the clouds car lights will show
For we are flying high by night
We increase our altitude
White gossamer can be viewed
As we fly through clouds by daylight
Now I think of ecstasy
That sometimes would come to me
Often powered by adrenaline
But it came before a fall
Knocked down and you will now bawl
This kind of flying high soon wears thin.
FLYING HIGH - Elliott Lever
Scaling mountains and forging streams
Sailing over oceans and climbing trees.
Sitting in a meadow with the bumblebees
Up flying high over the Pyrenees.
Swimming in the ocean and cycling at speed
Running on the sand and holding a kite by the sea.
Eating a fudge sundae and knickerbocker glory under a tree
Up flying high with limitless possibilities.
Dangling feet at the water's edge
Skimming stones over a shallow bed.
Wandering through the city streets
Up flying high with the world at ease.
Finding stillness in the night's air
Escaping the local thoroughfare.
Sweeping strides and hands embrace
Up flying high your heart only knows
DEAMING OF FLYING HIGH by Patricia J Tausz
From my perch the world I can see
There's a great deal going on around me:
The fields look like areas of quilting
The hedges being intricate stitching
Separating each square or oblong of yellow, brown and green
Below me is a peaceful scene
To fly high I am itching and on thermals I'll soon be hitching
A lift - but in the hot sun I won't be wilting.
Over the seas I'll be able to glide or float
Peering shyly into every kind of liner or simple boat
From my position I'll be able to see fish
Water dark and black as well as turquoise and blue
There'll always be plenty of food for me:
I love the thought of flying high and free
I'll be able to travel to places unknown and very new
And when I'm ready I'll swoop down and catch my supper dish.
I'm just a bird eager to take off into the sky
Wherever I go
I know I'm free around the world to fly
Be it high or be it low.
Jeffery A Edmunds - FLYING HIGH
Arriving with anticipation, we waited eagerly to have our turn
At Dunstable, gliders, soaring on a summer’s evening
After what seemed like an age, while elderly and young fliers soared,
I got on board
Sitting out front, I could hear the pilot behind me
He told me his story, that he was the son of an Italian POW in the
UK. We were on the site of a former prison camp, now taken away
We rolled forward getting higher and higher, my nerves getting more
dire. Suddenly a crack and a massive shudder shook the glider.
“Don’t worry,” said the pilot. “That’s the hook detached, we’re gliding
free.”
Now we were above the trees, flying high, banking and soaring. The
people below looked tiny.
Quite without warning, the pilot said: “I’m letting you take control now.”
I was in control! It didn’t seem real somehow
The glider dipped and he told me what to do, but then, thank goodness,
he took over, and I knew we were safe
The experience was a bit hairy, but fun. Having enjoyed the spin, I wanted do it again
FLYING HIGH by Barbara Spiers
Bubbly clouds and snow-capped hills
Bright blue air and sky.
Streaming sun and gleaming moon
When you're flying high.
Patchwork fields and sparkling seas
Winding roads and streams.
Whirls of red and bands of gold
Soaring to your dreams.
"Fasten your seatbelts everyone
We're coming in to land".
Buildings loom and streetlights glare
Heaven turns to sand.
Hurtling down the runway
Customs, bags and loo.
Home and school, love and work
Fly high in all you do.
That’s just a taster of our entries. Apologies to poets I’ve not mentioned but keep checking for I may put some more on.
Now I’m off to finish writing another talk, this one will certainly bring thoughts of nostalgia as my subject is Margaret Rutherford.
Otherwise, start writing those Nostalgia poems and I look forward to receiving them.
Have fun.
Judy
(jewishpoetrysociety@yahoo.com)
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