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Dianne Audrey Daniels My name is Dianne Audrey Daniels and I started to write poetry in nineteen-sixty nine as a way of expressing my feelings and emotions. Writing poetry not only helps you to offload any anger that you have but when there is sadness in your life and you put it into words it helps you to see it more clearly. The most rewarding part of writing is putting down all the happy times and you can reflect on these for the rest of your life. I have wrote over eighty poems and had twenty six published in different books. My next poem to be published is in a book called Poppy Fields which is out in November and my poem is called NO MORE! This poem is a dedication to all our Soldiers and the work that they do. Ghosts of the Past Deep are the memories of my childhood days, Buried like the generations of last, Subconsciously we build protective walls, Separating our future from the past.
The memories lurk! Hitting! Pounding at the walls, Jolting! Bringing forward life's fears, Doors that once were locked and bolted Come ajar over the years.
Cracks appear in the protective walls, Crumbling with age to reveal our ghosts of yesteryear, I feel the kneed to roam from room to room, Curiously seeking, challenging my fears.
The mind wonders and peers into the past, Haunting and condemning my tomorrow's, If I return to look back, Desperately I still want a future without sorrows.
I must go forward, bolting the doors as I go, Telling myself, my future doesn't want to know; To secure my happiness, my tomorrow's, I must leave my past, closing the doors forever more. No Time to Play
A happy little boy, not a care in the world, He’d play with his toys, on his mat he would curl, Hours he would spend on the floor of his room, Playing pretend, in a game he would loom, Lining up soldiers, battle field set, Cannons with matchsticks, tanks on the mat, Soldiers with radios and guns that go click, The battle is ready, cross-legged he would sit. The boy has grown up, a soldier he is now, There's no more pretend, his work is his vow, Away from home, for months he is gone, Doing a job, that needs to be done, A dedicated soldier who no longer plays, His mat is a field; he spends most of his days, The battles are real, his radio is coded, The tanks have shells, his gun is now loaded.
The dreams have stopped, for this soldier today, Its all part of life, there's no time to play, His life is reality, in a world full of wars; He’s now stopped pretending, he’s fighting for a cause, Running the gauntlet, crossing the sands, Fighting the terrorist, its a job that demands, No more just watching, from the battlefield mat, He’s now with his troop, stood fighting, not sat. When I Am Old
When
I'm old When
I am old When
I am old Band of Brothers
As
comrades they
stand like the
weapons they
carry A
unit of men who
stand for each
other United
is this band of
brothers Each
with the
knowledge that
all All
with a view to
finish this
battle with
honour I Am What I Am
I am not
perfect, I have
imperfections, I AM WHAT I AM
I have wants,
not needs but
wants I AM WHAT I AM
I want to
succeed, to be a
success, I AM WHAT I AM
I love and care
for others, so I
expect, I AM WHAT I AM
I want to
protect, look
after, I AM WHAT I AM
I am happy with
life, just
wanting to
please, WELL! I AM WHAT I AM 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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