Hi All
Hope you’ve had a fun August and perhaps made time for a little poetry, either reading or writing it.
This month’s winning poet for Harrow is Richard Adam with his The Real Thing and on the same subject David Hyams is our Barnet champion.
I will hope to meet some of you in Gayton Library for our next Open Mic on Tuesday 25th September, two days before the final date for our September competition with the subject Pets. Perhaps you could give me your entries in person.
Here are the winning poems and some of the runners up:
THE REAL THING by Richard Adam
When I'm in a taxi
Coming back from the supermarket
I think of the staff who've left
I miss them so much
I watch the tired summer rain
Collecting in the drains
We've lost touch
You sent me a photo of a homeless man
Outside a pie shop in February.
That was then
But this is the real thing
Staring at the supermarket door
I think of Tariq and John
Stacey and Harry and Oliver and Ben
Hundreds and hundreds of the same items
Yet no copies of all these staff,
No sight of these helpful and kind women and men.
A prison of foods and clothes
A place full of strangers
It could be a nightmare during the daytime
But it’s not
It’s the real thing
Rain never stops all day
And continues through the night
Cars race and splash the homeless
Night brings the tolling
Of a dim bell
In the dim black summer night of hell.
Two women watch a man undress in his flat
Whilst they eat the last of their KFC
Blonde women giggling
Now they push the greasy chicken box
Into a dustbin
And run for cover
Out of the taxi a homeless man steps out
Without his dog
He muses on where he will sleep
He imagines a man with a dog
Being knocked down by a speeding racer in a Citroen
He imagines the sight of a suitcase full
Of Big Macs, large fries and apple pie
And a capful of rain
This is the real thing
THE REAL THING by David Hyman
She passes me
in a swirling ethereal motion
A heavenly beauty
endowed with nature’s best features
But wait
She is not what she seems
Peel away the thick makeup
the botoxed and face-lifted effigy
Her surgically enhanced body image
She is just an average person
timid and reticent
All her refinements are but camouflage
to the real beauty
that resides in her soul.
THE REAL THING by Kusum Hars
Rush rush rush, rush here rush there
Not a moment we can spare
On the trains the buses, home or shops
Life is one big rush without a stop
Homes or shops are always lit bright
Whether it is the time of the day or night
Most of our lives are spent indoors
In the dazzle of the beautiful tube lights
If we could spare moments of our daytime
We could enjoy the different shades of sunshine
Which nature gives us at different times of day and year
The light of the morning Sun bright as ever to greet us here
The calm light of fresh silent mornings, you can hear the birds sing
The light of the blue sky with white clouds floating by
Or the beautiful colours of the setting sun
Bringing our day to an end.
The light of the Sun brightens up our day in summer
But caresses our bodies with its warmth in winter
The real things go unnoticed in our daily strife
Such is our day to day busy life.
THE REAL THING by Lisa Cohen
Body Language is a genuine gift
Giving those around a positive lift
Whenever meeting, a nod and a wink
Is the way to make others think
That they on the whole and in the round
They feel solidly safe and sound
A radiant smile filling your eyes
Shows a sincerity yo cannot disguise
Although I’m old, yet in my prime
I really cant afford the time
To seek out misery, such a fuss
A smiling face nurtures us
A SURREAL NIGHT
Derek Barretto
She sang to me softly
almost in a whisper, lips hardly moving
on the strobe-lit floor dancers were grooving
I bought her a drink ever so costly
Sonic vibes, sweet music, heady cocktails
intoxicated us both for a while
impeding not my ‘gangnam-style’
like a fair wind rising, billowing our sails
We writhed and whirled nearly ecstatic
all eyes were on us, entranced
how freely, how rhythmically we danced
each step and gesture serenely emphatic
Then sat down, pausing for breath
limbs tired like drained dervishes
weary foot-soldiers post-skirmishes
pondering temporary demise, even death
I sang her a little ditty, giving thanks
for an amazing, crazy night
everything seemed to turn out right
could this really be love gyrating ‘twixt our shanks?
THE REAL THING by Jeff Edmunds
“It’s the real thing” but what is it?
It has so many ingredients
It’s dark and impenetrable
What exactly makes it “real?”
Surely, the ‘real thing’ to me
is pure and clear and flows free
There’s nothing hidden and it
tastes only of what it is
It falls from the sky and flows
in tides, bringing salt and life
It gives us snow and frost and
is the basis of all living things
It makes up seventy percent
of our bodies
It bathes our cells and keeps
us functioning
We need to drink two to three
litres daily
Without it we don’t exist…
Surely this is the ‘real thing?’
THE RIGHT THING - Trying To Brush The Tears Away
©Patricia J Tausz
I can feel the tears are eager to run down my cheeks
Now it's almost seven hectic and long weeks
Since you passed away -
I miss you more and more each day.
Writing out exactly how I feel
Helps me much more than a great deal
It helps settle the rawness I feel inside
For in some ways my tears I have had to hide.
I accept you didn't want me to feel sad
But in your long fulfilling life I should rejoice and be glad
You've left me with a whole world to inherit
So many places to explore and visit.
So now I must wipe any tears that well in my eyes
And enjoy every day from sunrise
Fulfil my dreams, achieve what I want to achieve
But in God's wonders make sure I always believe
Knowing you're up there somewhere guiding me
And so from tears of grief I can now be set free.
THE REAL THING Bernard Pizer
Obviously we all prepare for eventualities
Love or maybe theft
seems appropriate for the very very sad times
given from above or even below
Today exists, for how long?
Mom and Dad are dead
So there
If anybody is listening
Thank you
A WINTER'S TALE IN AUGUST
by Tony Christoforou
I am a snowman built with snowflakes
By a girl and her dad and some of her mates.
They made me look smart with bowler and brolly
Quite unlike my snow friend they named Miss Molly.
We stood there together, so brave in the cold
I just wish I could face her and be very bold.
Then I would embrace her and be ever-so-kind
Perhaps even try to read what's in her mind.
“Daughter” - said her dad “I’ve already been told”
t’s not going to be really all that cold
But just as our builders began to disperse
Molly let out a sorrowful urse.
Then I soon realised what was in her mind
It would not take long before we became blind
For the first things to go when the temperature rose
Were her tomato eyes and my carrot nose
Our makers had taken an opportunity so rare
To put us together at the wrong time of year.
It was like winter in August for a flash in time
But for us it was not a very good sign
Then fortunately for us two I soon lost my brolly
And heaved over to join up with my friend Miss Molly.
Looking more like a heap than a sister and brother
We were found next morning embracing each other.
Look forward to reading your poems on Pets
Judy
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