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Family Member's Interests
Audrey - Poetry Writer Part 2
The first of the next three poems was inspired by the service held in our Church for my late friend, I'm sure she would approve.
The Church
Summer Time
Why?
Unwanted Guest
If I Could
Recompense
© Audrey Goodwin Feb 2008
audrey@tappin-family.org.uk
audrey@tappin-family.org.uk
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
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
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
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
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
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
The next poem comes from remembered discussions with my late brother Brian; there was a depth to him that perhaps others did not see. The one after is a complete contrast, it comes from listening to people talking to or about each other.
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
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?
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?
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.
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.
This next 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.
| Click on the Link for my previous page |
| Audrey - Poetry Part 1 |
Carrying on with the subject of memory, those of you that have an aged parent will recognise the sentiments behind this next poem.
Mum and Her Dog
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?
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?
New 15 May 2008