Poetry and Creative Writing for All

Margaret Pedley

I am a fabulous fiftyish year old, and have been writing poetry for about three years, What I want to do of course is to write a book, which is much harder than scribbling poetry!
I would benefit greatly from a writing course, and intend to go on one as soon as my finances permit! No-one was more surprised than me to have come first for the December theme. Thankyou Forward Press for the vote of confidence.

Racing the Train 1955

Two dusty schoolboys sit by the railway tracks,
School uniforms the worse for wear!
Stolen hours on a summers day!
"The train’s coming," shouts one,
With one accord they race down the embankment,
Out of sight crouched under the bridge they wait!
The train is almost upon them,
The deafening roar in their ears obliterates all else!
Billows of smoke descend to the ground in the windless air,
Holding their breath the two emerge and the race begins!
Hearts thump, adrenalin rushes through their bodies.
"Yes, yes, yes", they shout waving their arms,
The driver waves an angry fist!
All too soon the guards van passes them,
The train disappears!
Exhausted and exhilarated the boys sink to the ground.
They roll around laughing until their sides ache!

Years later two old men sitting on a park bench reminisce,
‘Racing the train,’
In those beautiful years!

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Benbridge School

Gulls screech and whirl angrily above the old school,
Enveloped in a shroud of sea mist the ancient walls
stand fast against the elements.
A roaring ocean on the beach below brings
in a storm that howls around the old clock tower.
Hanging off its hinges the school sign
groans in the wind.

The storm is jangling the bell above the great oak door,
Faces at the windows, laughter in the wind!
Clattering hooves on the cobbles
as the school coach arrives.

Benbridge School;
held in the memory of two old boys
who clutch their bouquets of yesterday,
fresh with morning dew!

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The Blackbird

Blackbird calling,
December morning,
Christmas of pure white snow!
Light pours from an open door
showing the child of paradise!
The man in the pulpit tries to reassure;
a gang of homeless beat on the door!
Sirens sound, police arrive,
"Why have you called us?" they say,
"Let these people into your church!"
Enter …the homeless,
Sermon continues without interruption,
drawing to a close of hearty applause!
The vicar speaks,
"My friends you are welcome,
to wine and mince pies."
"You will be served at the back of the church".
"May we have some volunteers
inviatations to xmas dinner;
for our friends at the back."
Silence falls……..
"Can we have our next hymn
Good King Wenceslas".
A smiling vicar stands at the door,
Says goodbye to his parishioners.
Winter winds blow icy blasts of snow around his ankles,
Returning inside he says;
"You’re all invited to dinner at the vicarage".
" Merry Xmas one and all!"

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Nightingale

November night of full moon,
Bare branches stark against a night sky,
Rod’s Bottom is bathed in moonlight,
Fast asleep inside the cottage,
A boy is dreaming,
At one a.m he’s awake,
A pure sound breaks the night silence,
Shutting his eyes he makes a wish;
The nightingale will never stop singing

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Demonstration

The year is 2020, Big Brother has been superceded by the Controller,
Surveillance cameras installed in buildings monitor all human activity!
Robot rottweillers stand guard outside city apartments,
Crying in a public place is now against the law!
The population moves as one - ants with a collective brain!,
A warning siren blasts across the city,
A crowd of people stand together waving banners shouting excitedly,
Police arrive,
No-one stops to look, afraid to show interest they scurry by,
"Answers, answers, we won’t move until we get them!" shout the crowd;
"Go home or you will be arrested!" order the police,
A man steps forward,
"Take us to the Controller!" he demands,
"The Controller doesn’t see antagonists", he is told.
"We demand to see him as our right!" say the demonstrators,
The Controller looks at the disturbance on an in house monitor,
He picks up his microphone,
"What do you want?" he asks,
"To know who you are!" say the crowd,
"I look after you", he answers,
"Show yourself", shout the demonstrators
as they surge forward.
Gas is released, all is still!!
One voice breaks the silence
"Dissension is punishable by death!"

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