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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.


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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.


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Submission Guidelines: Poems of no more than 30 lines in length each will be considered.

Post your poems to Featured Poets, Forward Press Ltd, Remus House, Coltsfoot Drive, Peterborough PE2 9JX (Write your name and address on each piece of work you send)

Or email your poems to inbox@forwardpress.co.uk (Enter Featured Poets in the subject line, including your name and postal address)

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