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The Top 5 Poems of
the Month
April
2006
River of
Life
The young child sat cross-legged looking up to her grandma,
In a puzzled voice she said, “Tell me what you know of life so far?”
The old lady paused briefly and with a smile uttered these words,
Life my darling starts way up in the sky above all the soaring birds.
Love and dreams are combined at the one moment that is right,
To create a raindrop of life that shines and glimmers in the light.
The young child looked upwards with puzzlement and tilted her head,
“If I am that raindrop what becomes of me then?” she slowly said.
The old lady held her arm out and fluttered her wizened old hand,
With guidance and hope you gently glide down to the land,
As you grow stronger and discover curiosity you start on your way,
Trickling around the rocks of parenthood that guide you every day.
The young child swayed her body with the journey she saw in her mind,
Then she said “How will I know which way to go and what will I find?”
The old lady considered the question with a frown but not for very long,
Our paths will be decided by what we believe to be right and wrong.
Others will join and become the unstoppable rivers of teenage years,
Carving through life noisily, fast flowing, undaunted by any fears.
The young child looked down pulling at the tufts of rug upon the floor,
But Grandma she said “I don’t want to leave you for a river that will roar”
The old lady laughed and moved her hand through the young child’s hair,
Although you may not see us your family and I will always be there.
We will form the banks that caress you and stop you going astray,
As you get wiser we will give you the freedom and move further away.
The young child held the hand that comforted her close to her cheek,
“What will happen when the river ends” she said mild and meek.
The old lady looked into herself with a tear that welled in her eye,
Rivers do not end my dear; they do not grow old or fade and die,
They will join all those they have ever loved or lost just like you and me,
And together till the end of time we will frolic in the never-ending sea.
Mark Roope
Top
Here
are the other four winning poems for
this month.
One Last Time
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOne last time
his story will be told. An opalescent window is the
only visible evidence of the sharp cold breeze that
lives outside. Snowflakes flicker and silently dance
a waltz on their journey down. Safe and warm in the
kitchen sits a cup on the countertop scarred only by
a single thin crack that snakes a path slithering up
from its base. Like a vein the crack grows along the
thin porcelain sides, telling a tale of the many washes
it has seen.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOne last time,
a black kettle slowly cooks on the iron stove. In a
few more minutes tea will be served. Dusty pictures
sprinkle every wall with life. The vacation to the
Bahamas and Greece, baby's first daring and
uncoordinated steps, and grandparents day at
kindergarten. Each picture forever captures a slice
of life, stamps it with date and time and displays it
for future use.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOne last time
the exhausted couch creaks as a man takes his seat
gazing quietly out at the trees painted white with
snow. One last time the man wishes to look into his
past. Wrinkled eyelids close on the world outside
as he begs a failing mind to let him relive a memory
one last time. The frigid wind blows at the window.
He takes no notice.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOne last time
tired lungs let out a breath of air and the man
settles back into the couch. He sees a younger man
hand in hand with wife as they parade slowly down
the white sand beach on their honeymoon. One last
time the corners of his lips slowly curl and crescent
in a smile.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOne last time
the kettle whistles to let him know that tea is ready
but the man takes no notice. Outside the cold wind
knocks quietly at the window but no one looks up
to answer. A snowflake falls onto the opal colored
glass. It clings on looking silently at the man sitting
in the couch before it melts and slowly begins to drip.
The window starts to cry as the melted snowflake falls
like a tear dripping down the glass.
Liam
Clarke
Top
Return
In nineteen sixty nine I left
my fortune for to try.
I went back north where the skies are grey
and the streets are rarely dry.
I’d done with lectures, exams, notes
and picked up my degree.
I went out in the big wide world
to see what I could be.
I tried my hand at the teaching trade
to earn my daily bread
and I can’t have been too bad because
I ended up as Head.
I met a girl from the hills of Wales
and she became my wife.
We had a child, a baby girl,
and built a splendid life.
But the days went by, the weeks and months.
Our daughter quickly grew.
She turned out bright and got her grades
and went to Cambridge too.
So I went back after all that time
to the town I once had known.
Twenty years and more had passed.
Time had truly flown.
Parts seemed new and parts seemed old,
familiar but still strange.
I had to stand and ask myself
just what had really changed.
For here I was where I had been,
different yet the same.
The two times seemed to melt in one
as I walked the streets again.
A young man’s shadow at my heels,
an older heart and mind.
And now I know how a ghost must feel,
a memory left behind.
Bernard Fyles
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Love and
Pray
I saw the blur and heard the cry,
Of some sweet angel passing by.
Along the road of crime and shame,
Unto the gates of hell she came.
And through the mist I heard her say,
Unto the gateman on that day,
That heavens doors were closed and chained,
And on the outside she'd remained.
The gateman asked her what she'd done,
And how through life she had become,
An outcast to the saints above,
To cause their scorn and lose their love?
Her voice was broken through the tears,
As she explained about her years
In praise of God and that above,
No time for life, no time for love.
And so the gateman turned to say,
How through her life she'd lost the way,
That lack of love, and lack of life,
Had caused this moment full of strife.
How could she think that God above,
Would make a world so full of love,
And then expect his children to,
Forget to live and cherish true!
And so you see, I heard him say,
Unto this angel on that day,
It's those who live with all their might,
Who find an entrance to the light!
Now you may think this tale untrue,
That maybe I have lied to you!
But please believe me when I say,
It pays to love as well as pray!!
Dave Stanworth
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A
World
Together?
Christmas joy and birthday fun
Opening presents one by one
No special day to shed some light
The broken doll is held so tight
Picnics, swimming at the beach
Friends and family within reach
Windswept hovels in the sand
No one comes to lend a hand
A cut kissed better, then a hug
Playing games upon the rug
Wounds so deep they may not heal
This game of life seems so unreal
Bath-time fun, delighted screams
Bedtime drinks and happy dreams
No clean water, dirty clothes
Nightmares disturb our short repose
Schooldays learning how to write
Painting pictures, such delight
No books or joy to fill the breach,
Is this what life has come to teach?
No cares or woes no need to fear
Knowing mum and dad are near
Afraid, unsure of what’s ahead
One parent ill, the other dead
Theirs is a bitter-sweet refrain
Where only fragile hope remains
We have the means to do so much
Let’s give them more than straws to clutch.
William
Ross
Top
To submit a poem to the
Online Poetry
Competition,
email inbox@forwardpress.co.uk
(Enter Top 5 Poems of the Month in the subject line, including your name and
postal address)
Or
post your poems to
Top 5 Poems
of the Month, Forward Press Ltd,
Remus House, Coltsfoot Drive, Peterborough PE2 9JX (Write your name and
address on each piece of work you send)
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