The first of these three poems was inspired by the service held in our Church for my late friend, I'm sure she would approve.
The Church	Unwanted Guest	Summer Time
In the middle of our village Stands a church old and worn It's not pretty, just rugged It's part of it's charm. Inside needs attention Re-painting and making trim But there's a warmth about it There's a welcome within. No clock to mark the hours Of each passing day A bell to ring the tidings Be they mournful or gay. Just a tired old church Sandstone mellow and worn The beating heart of the village Since the day it was born.	He comes uninvited In the middle of the night Touching with his breath Everything in sight. Sleeping birds tremble As he passes by Bushes turn white In the blink of an eye. Welcome is the dawn Bringing back the sun Warming up the air Frost's visit is done.	Summer time and the days are long Though the nights are short for me And the birds outside my window Singing loudly in the tree. The doves cooing on a neighbour's roof As dawn brings back the light Require little sleep it seems Adding to my restless night. A Foxes' call across the fields Disturbs a dog that barks Two cats squabbling on the lawn Awaken me with a start. Who ever said for peace and quiet Live in the countryside? But when all is said and done For me, it's the only place to reside.

This poem comes from remembered discussions with my late brother Brian; there was a depth to him that perhaps others did not see.	This one is a complete contrast, it comes from listening to people talking to or about each other.	This one comes from a recent holiday in Italy.
If I Could	Why?	Pallanza Bells
If I could leave my body I'd fly out among the stars I'd take a look at Pluto After whizzing by Mars Take a trip to shimmering Mercury Then a slide down Saturn's rings I'd wonder round the Milky Way And ride the solar winds I'd scoot around myriads of stars In systems as yet unknown Oh I could see so many things If only I could roam	Why is it you put someone down With a scathing look or word? Why is it that you give no thought To the distress you cause to others? Why is it that you must always be right Dismissing other points of view? Why can't you see that you anger and annoy Turning friendship away from you? Why is it when you cause upset Do you never feel ashamed? Why is it when you read these words Do you think, "it can't mean me", Why?	Pallanza's Church tower Stands proud and tall It's clock tells the time And bells remind all They ring out merrily Across the roof tops clear Singing a joyous song That lingers on the air Every day it is the same Twelve o'clock tune Telling all the town it's noon, it's noon, it's noon

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Audrey - Poetry Part 1
Page by: © Audrey Goodwin Apr 2011
audrey@tappin-family.org.uk
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This next poem was written as a tribute to our brother Clive who passed away in November 2008.	This poem is all about words.
Feel the Joy	Words	Early Start
Tread the paths we roamed together Do not be sad along the way Think only of our great pleasure And contentment at the end of day Take those walks around Ambleside On the footpath to Wansfell Pike Follow the trail to Stock Gll Force Set off in early morning light Cross the fields on zig-zag tracks Walk by that rippling stream And reach High Sweden Bridge Admire the rugged beauty of the scene Do not grieve that I am no longer there I know where you now tread Rejoice in what we've done together Roam Langdale for me instead	Why is it you put someone down With a scathing look or word? Why is it that you give no thought Some words I cannot spell And others are difficult to say They twist the tongue and mind So a dictionary’s my mainstay I find all manner of meanings When searching through its pages And look up fascinating facts Though reading it takes ages For instance fillip is a stimulus Made by the nail on a finger Spirit a supernatural being Or a drink, on this I’ll linger Inebriate is a rounded word Slipping neatly from the tongue Perhaps it’s time to drink those spirits And have ourselves some fun Perfidious means disloyal or dishonest While unctuous, suave and smarmy Perhaps one day I’ll use those words At least that’s my current theory Consulting my newest thesaurus Two words catch my eye Clingy, sticky mucilaginous Or is accrete the one to try No matter what I’m writing I can enhance my prose From dictionary or thesaurus By using words like those	When going away on holiday Travelling by bus, car or plane We would be hours too early Our timing was ever the same         We’d set off prematurely To find our camping site Missing all the traffic By travelling overnight Motorways are a nightmare When towing at just one speed Drivers get so impatient Ignoring other road users needs Now we use the slower roads We’ve plenty of time to spare Still arriving at our destination Early or late, we no longer care.

These next two were written as autumn poetry	This poem is all about words.	This next one appears in our April 2010 Family Magazine
Ballet in the Sky	Tomorrow Comes	February Holiday
In dribs and drabs they gather From north, south, east and west Birds coming to roost together In a way that works the best The sky is black with starlings Moving with energy and grace Like ballet dancers swaying In great waves across their space All at once the dance is over As they settle in the trees Chattering loudly together Feathers ruffling in the breeze Night time holds no fears For starlings as they sleep As long as they dance together In safety they will keep	Chill winds greet each new day As swift and swallow wing their way Back to lands far across the sea Leaving behind our hospitality Nests abandoned and forlorn No longer safe, cosy and warm Skies bereft of acrobatic flight Seem emptier from morn to night Nature enters a slower pace Time for autumn to show her face Leaves turned red, gold and brown One by one shrivel and tumble down Deciduous trees proudly stand Naked across our cold, cold land Till one dawn a warm wind blows And miraculously a new leaf grows	Going on holiday in February Not my favourite thing to do But the cottage is warm and cosy And has the most excellent view I don’t ever tire of seeing it Be there hail, snow or rain It’s quite fascinating really Hour by hour never the same Across fields of green to a hill With a castle sat right on the top Beyond it the sea stretches From north to south non-stop The sun highlights the castle Till fog rolls in from the sea Hiding castle and fields quickly Then there’s nothing left for me Going on holiday in February Is an interesting thing to do In a cottage that’s warm and cosy With a most excellent view

This next one was written especially for the wedding of our brother David to Josie
Together	Election 2010	My Brother Brian
I’d never thought I’d see the day, our Dave would say “I do”. I always hoped he’d find someone, Josie, I’m glad it’s you. To see you both so happy, brings joy to all our hearts. With family and friends around you, your journey together starts. The past has been written, the future an empty book. Waiting to be filled, I wish you the very best of luck.	There’s been a general election But nothing was settled at all Though one party won more seats The others can gang up and stall After weeks of wooing the voters Pulling apart their opponents plans Saying how much we need a change It’s `let’s work together, shake hands` Yes, we’ve got a hung Parliament An alliance is made as policies bend Rare for this country of ours Minorities the winners in the end	Our Brian was quite a thinker In his own special way He’d sit for hours quietly Contemplating the day We had many a discussion In those later years About the meaning of life And our hopes and fears He thought long and hard About earth and the stars What we were here for And was there life on Mars He hoped we were not alone That just couldn’t be true He always believed There were others out there too Yes he was quite a thinker Not noticeably bright But he wanted to know things To make the universe seem right You wouldn’t know just by meeting My brother for a drink That he looked into the heavens Or what deep thoughts he’d think

New Apr 2011	New Apr 2011
The Question	I wish
I came across a photograph just the other day when looking through a box of things I’d put away. I thought long and hard to remember that time when I was very young and all the world was mine. What dreams did I have for my life yet to come had I great ambitions or maybe I had none. Things seemed so simple just rest work and play never being responsible for anyone else’s day. If I had seen into the future those many years ago would I have changed direction? I guess I’ll never know.	I wish I had a wish to use I’d travel instantly through time Be there at the very beginning When earth was just primeval slime Watch creatures unheard of Become animals or birds See huge beasts gather To graze like cattle in herds I’d like to see Stonehenge In the process of being built Moving great blue stones To stand upright or tilt Perhaps see Queen Boudicca Upon England’s battlefields Avenging wronged daughters Till death makes her yield Watch uncrowned Matilda Escape Stephen, her foe Dressed in all white robes To flee un-noticed in the snow See Christopher Wren’s London After the fire has raged His design for St Paul’s Cathedral Take shape, page by blessed page There are so many happenings In England’s rich history So many famous people I know I’ll never get to see I wish I had a wish to use To travel backwards through time Hours would become seconds Every century would be mine.

This poem was inspired by my elderly friends who so often tell me that they can remember things from many years ago far easier than what they did last week.	Carrying on with the subject of memory, those of you that have an aged parent will recognise the sentiments behind this next poem.	This one was in our Family Magazine during 2006.	This one was in our Family Magazine during 2007.
Recompense	Mum and Her Dog	That Word	On the Village Green
A treasury of memories Tumble into my mind I begin to remember Things I had left behind. They slip from my memory They never seem to last In no recognisable order Just blasts from the past. There'll be a conversation Or a face long gone That brings a whole episode Of life when we were young You'll know what I'm talking about As you grow older my dear It's like reading a book With the printing unclear Some things are best left forgotten But you can't pick and choose For if you close the book Then good memories you'll lose. Some throw me in at the deep end With a sound, a touch, a smell Bringing back many reminders Of things I'd never tell. There could be compensation In growing old you know But you have to find out for yourself For in my mind you cannot go.	At ninety five Mum's entitled To wander down Memory Lane Lingering ever longer Till past and present are the same. Some days she remembers us When we come to call Forgetting as we leave That we've been there at all. Yet her world has been entered By Sandy, a stuffed toy He's brightened her days Bringing both comfort and joy. She shows him off proudly When we enter her room Her world has more meaning Dispelling all gloom. Like a piece of a puzzle That has slipped into place The difference in her Shows in her face. She's filling her days In the world that she knew Should we feel resentment? Or hope that we live there too?	It's a sad old word, eventually Putting off what you could do today We'll do that eventually Never, is more honest to say. Ther's always that word eventually The time will be right one day Till too late you'll realise That time has slipped away. So you never go eventually On that journey you promised to do Always doing things eventually Now! is better for you. Eventually you'll follow your dreams Till you let them fade away Eventually is always tomorrow And never, ever today!	Dressed in his whites And twirling his bat He strides across the green Casually watched by the visiting team. A ball is bowled The batsman strikes Owzat! the visitors call The Umpire solomnly shakes his head, No Bal! The games goes on The runs mount up Till that one stinging clout And the Umpire calls OUT! His head held high He doffs his cap To those watching at the scene Of cricket on the village green.