Hi All
This month our subject was Travel and it’s true to say that the standard of your poems each month is getting higher. I had great difficulty in judging the work you submitted, but hope you agree with my choice of Peter Collins for the Barnet Borough Times and Kusum Hars for the Harrow Times.
Next month the subject will be Remembrance and Poppies - entries of no more than 20 lines by 30th November please.
It is also the theme of our next Open Mic evening which will be held on the 15th November from 6 to 7.30 at Gayton Library.
Here are the winning poems, together with some of our runners-up:
TRAIN OF THOUGHT by Kusum Hars
Eyes closed, the train of thoughts
Travels down the memory lane
Stops at an iron gate, a path with boxed hedges
Leading to a house with a red tiled roof
And a garden full of flowers and fruit
A clear blue sky and sunshine around
I see myself, lazing on the lawn on the ground
And at times up in the trees giving wings to my dreams.
The train of thoughts moves on again,
A journey across the mountains and seas
I reach the spot where my house would be
Alas! no path, no garden, just a wilderness
A rusty mangled gate under the plant mess
A lonely deserted house in the distance
My dreams shattered, memory string broken.
Imaginary arms of mine go around my mate
I imagine my head resting on it, to comfort it
As it was my comfort of late
Once more the train of thoughts is on its way
This time to my present day
TRAVEL by Peter Collins
Who would have thought that one day our world
Would be as small as it is?
It's no longer known as 'the big wide world'
As, I'd like to tell you this
To think that now you can get on a plane
Go around the world in a day
Supersonic aeroplanes
Will soon be coming our way
Even trains now travel the globe
To places near and far,
They travel so fast, should you wake up from a sleep
You never know where you are
And then there are the cruise ships, the 'hotels on sea'
Will take you to an exotic shore
The Med, the East, the Hawaiian Islands
The Caribbean, and so much more
So travel has made this world much smaller
And not everyone wants to hike
So, don't sit there and think about it
Just go and get on your bike!
Some of the other entries were:
TIME MACHINE by Marvin Shaw
In my time machine
There's a rhyme machine
A place where I dream
I travelled afar
In my electric car
Took me to the stars
Then back to the past
Feeling so aghast
Feelings never last
I travel everywhere
Without sigh or care
Even when in my chair
In my time machine
I'm always so clean
Never a has-been
My secret cinema screen
TRAVEL 2 by Jeff Edmunds
Movement, forward projection
Speed, time compression
Experience change, vistas open up, disappear
Here in the reality, there in the mind, but where is here?
The world becomes ribbons, lines
The world is passing trees and fields,
The world is scanning factories, lorry load yields
The world is skirting a giant shopping complex, scattered
homes, ranked houses
The world is moving through sun-streaked cloud bases
The world is sailing moonlit seas, a lonely vessel, birds on
the breeze
Movement on a moving world
Sapiens move because the world moves through time and
change…
TRAVEL by Joseph Smith
Hello from another place
Far from the safety of mission control
Trying to help the whole human race
To do something incredible is our goal
For tomorrow is a latter day
Preaching across land and sea
Whether in San Fran by the bay
Or Sea world and Disney
Off to Uganda to help make the villagers glad
Not quite like upstate NYC
Now comes a part of our story that gets a little bit sad
But in the prophet I believe
All I can do is turn it off
And leave behind me the Serengeti
Hoping that I'll find salvation
When I reach Salt Lake City
A BRIEF JOURNEY by Patricia Tausz
During the night I dreamt I was in another world
It was as if through a volcano's vent I had been hurled
I was forced up into the black sky
But alas no birds around me did call or cry.
I found myself hurtling through space into the world of the stars
I travelled far beyond the Moon and even Mars
I had no idea where I was travelling to
It was possibly to a land undiscovered and new
Flashing lights of meteorites and asteroids shot by
I had travelled ever so high.
Then I found myself spiralling down towards familiar ground
It was to our planet Earth - I landed without a sound
I had been the first to make the journey into outer space
What of my adventures would I tell the Human Race
I knew I had been where no human had been before
On landing I wondered would I or anyone else ever see more?
TRAVEL by Elliott Lever
To capture that feeling I will draw you a picture
That bright crisp morning with cool fresh air
A magical place by the sea from here to there
Where there is a feeling you just have to see.
A feeling you see?
You see and you feel.
A time for ourselves
Way off in that distant place.
Imagine seeing without feeling.
Like those blank white walls of your office block.
Now transformed into the most vivid horizons all day long.
With great clarity the mind sees and the
heart feels
Share that special time with cheer and zeal.
Capture the feeling seeing travelling.
SEVENTH HEAVEN by Lisa Cohen
She sits in a bay window with the sun streaming into the room. So welcome
Orange blossoms fragrance the light breeze. Birds sing sweetly, gently thawing her frozen grief
Benjy had fought illness for years. His last breath was her first breath of freedom
Guilty thoughts plague her. How she coped with so much misery, beggars belief
Must keep up appearances. Must hold on to dignity. Must smile when you want to weep
And in choir, while singing the golden oldies, must contain your sorrow
Dozy Daisy tabby cat nestles into a warm lap and purrs her mistress to sleep
Exhausting sadness, and a bottomless pit of challenges can wait until tomorrow
Peace softens her features. She dreams about a Bentley whisking her back to June 1957
There he stands proud, in a black evening suit, and wobbly top hat " Hallo Doll"
His nickname for her. Radiant in satin replies, "Hello Benjy". Is this Seventh Heaven?.
Vows and wedding rings exchanged. Families overjoyed. Together at last. Body and soul
Posh honeymoon in Bournemouth. The Cumberland Hotel. Uninvited cheeky friends appear
Everyone boogies and rocks until hot Salt Beef sandwiches are served at midnight.
After tucking into afternoon tea of Strudel and Cheesecake, their pals wisely disappear.
The newly weds only have eyes for each other. Their future looks bright
In the bay window, Dozy Daisy stretches and licks her velvety fur. Time for me
Gently she pats her mistress's kind face. Nudges turn into a frantic mew
Don't worry. There are usually biscuits in my dish. She wanders off to see.
Family arrives. Lots of crying. Daisy greets the Paramedics. They will know what to do.
BROADENING THE MIND ON THE NORTHERN LINE by Ian Herne
More muggings on this route, more commuters
with their lack of compassion, more adverts
for fertility clinics, dental floss, new tartan effect
seating which nullifies piles - so they say.
But never a bright, sunny day.
I heard today that the deepest station on the
line is at Hampstead Heath, always a steep place
for reflection. But when you've got aggravation
it means little. A man selling tissues is the issue
of lies as he smiles near the station.
From Morden to Bank and Mill Hill heights you
climb embankments, see Art Deco wonders and
even archers at East Finchley in silent procession.
Air conditioning is not here or there. Transport police
with frowns of trouble make their impression.
Every day the sweet, sickly journey is the same.
No pleasure as you glimpse dark eyes and
forget mere assault. The noise assaults your
senses but the unraveling sound in your head
could be a terror of a Jihadist thought.
TORMENTOR by Melville Lovatt
Old and crabbed in a squinting sun
he travels down my vision’s aisle,
darkening every youthful corridor
with peevish tongue and vulture smile.
Like so many grey old men
breathing on for moans or prying,
poisoned by a waiting time
of wanting death though not the dying,
he claims his image demands respect,
is quite inevitably correct,
my inheritance awaiting.
I hate him. He thrives on small depressions.
Any cosier visions of an ancient self,
strangely alert, eccentric and kind,
sporting quite trendy jacket and trousers,
with adoring young wife to cheer body and mind,
are always reduced to a whimsical blur
by something lurking, deep in his stare.
I hope you enjoyed these poems - and why not enter the competition and perhaps your poem will feature here next month.
Judy Karbritz
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