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


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!


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 


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


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.