Oh to be a Bee
In and out of flowers
On the breeze.
Loving rays of sun
Keeping busy pollinating
As nature’s ambassadors
Of life’s production line.
By Charlie Browne
Poetry with friends’ laughter never ends
A place where the dish ran away with the spoon
A poem was read from the moon
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,
Until the Germans demolished it.
Time came to a standstill and the
Mouse ran up the clock,
Twinkle Twinkle they are stars
Poetry Group best by far.
By Gary, in the Poetry workshop
It came to pass that every Thursday morn,
Strange men arrive at the wall of worth,
It is a tall dark place where
The word of the poets gather to write about the world,
Or do they? There is a darker side of these men,
Not the words of men but the hand of the ice maiden Lisbeth,
No blood runs through her veins
Only ice. We shout let her go
But the key’s master Alison has her
Locked in the wall of Walworth.
We will let the ice maiden go.
The strange men will help her
Shout let her go.
By Gary, in the Thursday morning poetry class.
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A horrible incident where my best friend suddenly shared jealousy of a mutual friend and I (all females), and our subsequent “making up” this morning led me to think about the homeless, and how (some) of their lives could be transformed if they, too, had a “best friend” to give them non-judgmental support like I have (mostly).
I am not saying I would have sunk to the level of actually being homeless, had my best friend not fully apologised and professed her love for me all over again.
It certainly straightened my spine, but also caused me to look around at the … Read More »