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Pauline
Pickin
I
have been
writing for as
far back as I
can remember.
My mother used
to tell me
that she would
buy me paper
and pencils
hoping that
once I could
write I would
stop talking
and asking
questions, I
never did.
I have had
such wide and
varied careers
including
Freelance News
Correspondent
for a country
newspaper and
Lecturer at
Park Lane
College. Born
in Leeds, West
Yorkshire and
although I
have moved all
over the
country but
returned to my
beloved
Yorkshire to
write full
time. I
had a mini
stroke in
March 2000
which changed
everything
overnight.
It was been a
struggle to
cope with the
basics in
life. I
have always
written poetry
and write them
neatly and
give them as
presents to
friends and
relatives.
I always have
a pen and
paper handy
when
inspiration
hits me,
usually about
everyday
people and
ordinary
things.
I have won
many prizes
over the years
and since my
illness my
poetry has
taken on new
depths
resulting in
lots being
published.
My most famous
poem was
written for
the 9/11 New
York disaster
and a copy of
which stands
in the Library
of Congress in
Washington.
I still have
the ambition
to complete a
book of my
poetry, which
I am bringing
together.
My inspiration
comes from
everyday life.
POETRY
IN COLOUR
Brushes
of vibrant
colour
Search awesome
canvas
Moments of
passion create
Timeless
memories.
Seasons’
changing palette
Opaque pastel,
capture
Swollen, green
hedgerows
Translucent
hues.
A
moment in time
Eternally
declare
Water-coloured
stills
Framed in
nature’s oak.
Oils
of yellow ochre
Thinned with
spirit
Mist the eyes
Of cobalt blue.
Frozen
silver dewdrops
Sparkling
winter’s
blanket
Crunch heavily
underfoot
Between emerging
snowdrops.
Top

MEMORIAL
TREE
It
seemed like only
yesterday
That I held your
hand
In God’s
wisdom, I’d
pray
And try to
understand.
I
watched each
candle ignite
Flickering in
that draughty
hall
A celebration of
your life,
despite
Hopes and
dreams, you gave
your all.
Another
light on the
Memorial Tree
Another name
read aloud
I wished you sat
beside me
My head
reverently
bowed.
Brave
faces we tried
to pull
One by one we
were
distinguished
And finally,
when the tree
was full
The candles were
extinguished
I
was once mad at
God
For taking you
away
Even though I
have to plod
I’ll miss you
every day.
Top

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Poems of no more than 30 lines in length each will be
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address on each piece of work you send)
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