General Chat

Please post any poems or short (very short) stories you have written BY YOURSELF. There are so many gifted people on this site - share it with the rest of us

She, I'm no good at writing poetry or short stories, but I am good at reading, can I stay, please June xx

HOLIDAYS Bright white light stirring the senses Brain numbing searing heat Longed for holiday now commences A favourite island or special retreat. Salt on the tongue, sparkling seas Children’s’ voices drift across the beach Colourful sailboards strive to catch the breeze To ride the waves, the biggest always out of reach. Lounging oily bodies soaking up the sun Seeking a tan to impress those at home Splashing in the pool and having lots of fun Everywhere flowers all in bloom Longed for holiday all too soon is ending We leave our cocoon of friendly geniality Large silver bird through bright clouds ascending Returning us from make believe to the world of reality copyright Ann Glos 2003

Yes, me too, I'm like June and am really looking forward to the talent that will appear on this thread. Love Mandy x

This was for my friend in Scotland - and I bet you now have a sneaky look at mens shoes lol Never trust a man Who wears Slip-on shoes He’ll only give you the blues. Or the man Who favours A brown leather Calf length Cowboy boot ‘Cos he’ll love you Then scoot. So pay attention girl Learn who you can trust If you meet one of the above Leave Get out Do a runner Go home On the next bus © Sheila M Anderson 2000

I am no poet either but I will have a go. (as you can see) I put one on a thread of Jims a few weeks back, can't remember what his thread was called so i will have to type it out again. Ann glos

Strife These dead rellies who take over our life, can no doubt cause family strife, While searching the Web sites Through all days and nights There's a husband who's missing his wife. ann glos

Written the first time I met up with Jude. The 'green' refrred to was the colour of the print on Genes Connected. A Friend I caught the bus to town today To the bank I had to call. Collected some shopping along the way (I didn't need it all!) Met a friend, before not seen Had lunch and an hour long chat Before had only read the name in green Now what do you think of that? I enjoyed my day It was good to meet Maybe again one day We'll give ourselves a treat! Ann Glos

Remember when we walked together Late so late last night Amongst a sea of mist and cloud And then you held me tight. Remember when you kissed me Like stars that kiss the sky And how you spoke so lovingly While all I did was sigh Remember how I felt When I found it wasnt true That all Our love was fantasy Id never been with you Of course you dont remember The silent, glistening stream For darling you weren't with me You were only in my dream

I don’t really know where to begin – maybe my birth would be the best place. Yes. A good place to start. I was born the day before my brothers 3rd birthday – I am sure he was disappointed – would most probably have preferred a train set or something useful, not a mop topped squawking little precious! But tough – I had arrived and I was here to stay!!! I am the fourth child – 3rd daughter - to Jimmy and Muriel – a slightly belated 40th Birthday present for Jimmy – but hey – at least he couldn’t take this present back! I was born on August 10th 1957 at 3.25am. I can’t remember that but I am sure that I made my presence felt as soon as I arrived. It was just before my sisters went back to school after the summer holidays – I can just imagine them excitedly telling all their friends about this beautiful little baby sister they had now. But let’s face it – they probably told their mates that this greetin’ faced wean had moved in and was disrupting the whole house! Until a few years ago (less than 5) I was under the illusion that mum and dad named me Sheila after a collie dog that they had. Bad enough – but to be told that but they had had the dog put down for biting my oldest sister – well it leaves a scar on a child!!!! Maybe that is why I have always hated the name? When I was 7 and in the Brownies my mother was confused when Brown Owl kept talking to her about Marian – well it was my middle name. I was a failure as a Brownie – I wasn’t allowed to move up to the Guides ‘cos I NEVER earned a badge. Being born in August makes me a Leo – a Fire sign. Dad’s birthday was 4th July and Mum’s was 5th November – fireworks on both days so it was inevitable that they had me – their little firecracker! And being a fire sign had absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that I accidentally set fire to 3 bookies shops. But that will be revealed later. Leo’s are creative, fiery, passionate and have psychic tendencies - that’s psychic NOT psychotic. Though I am sure that some people will disagree. © Sheila M Anderson-Wray 2004

Following on from that Maz, I wrote this just after losing my mother last year Requiem You cradled me when you gave me life I cradled you when you slipped away You stroked my brow I kissed yours softly You held my hand to comfort me I held yours to do the same We shared a bond the two of us That went deeper than words A look. a touch a gentle smile Were all that were required. You let me know your time had come I didn't want to - But I let you go © Sheila M Anderson-Wray 2003

Bloomin Heck! Maz and Shelia youve had me in tears again. Those words were lovely and thank you for sharing them with us Bev

Grief is one of the most powerful emotions we have to deal with. It affects people in different ways: some weep copiously, some feel uncontrollable rage and others just bottle up their pain. When someone dies, we don’t cry for them – we cry for ourselves, for our own loss and guilt. Often we have argued with that person, or had unresolved issues with them. Our guilt is that we never told them enough that we loved them. Some of the anger we feel is directed at the person who has died – why did they die – how dare they, it’s not fair. This is often the reaction to our loss. This is natural, we are in shock and find it too painful to accept the horrible truth. That is good – if you can cry you are beginning to accept the situation The pain when you lose a parent, partner or friend is great. To lose a child must surely be the greatest pain to bear – especially if you never had a chance to hold your longed for baby. All your hopes and dreams die with the child. You are left with an aching void and your heart turns to lead. It all seems so unfair, people whose babies were due at the same time as yours turn away from you in the street. They feel guilty that they have a healthy living child when you have been left with nothing. The sight of a baby in a pram rips you apart, when you see a toddler playing – you hurt. Your child will never do that. You feel a burning hatred and a bitterness towards nobody in particular and everybody in general. Many parents find it difficult to communicate with each other after their loss. If only they could cry with each other, the healing could begin. Each one blames themself for the loss – but they can’t talk to each other. Many have said that they withdrew from their partner, retreated into their own safe little cocoon and been alone with their grief. They pick arguments with each other over trivial things, anything to get a reaction, they cast-up everything but don’t mention their common pain. Once it is finally broached the tears will flow. You feel as though they will never stop – but they do – in time. Tears have a soothing antiseptic quality, they start the healing process and the pain becomes easier to bear. Nothing anybody can say can ease the pain you feel, you have to let time heal the grief. It’s a long and painful process. Tell the people that you care for just how much you love them. Tell them today, do not leave it until it is too late. I promise – you will never regret it.

Shelia Thank you! You are so right!

She , your words mean so much,its the 16th aniversary of my granddads death today(17dec)I was too young to understand then,bit it upsets me so much now,when I realise,there was so much left unsaid,I was only 14 when he died and I just wish,things had been different then etc... Anna

This is a lovely thread,folks, keep them coming.. :)

Monday August 24th 1981, 8.45pm POUR TOUTS LES ENFANTS PERDUS ‘One in four don’t come to term’ I don’t care about statistics Why should I be the one? ‘It wasn’t a baby’ they say To them it was blood And tissue To me it was my child My flesh, my blood Our baby. The physical pain recedes But the heartache continues I wake Crying out in my grief. ‘You’re young’ ‘You’ll have others’ ‘You’ve got one already’ My heart breaks Shattered by despair They don’t understand Time passes, a baby’s born She’s alive. The pain eases But I’ll never forget The lost baby The one people don’t mention The soul I light candles for The ache I’ll carry in my heart Til the day I die © Sheila M Anderson-Wray 2004

FUTILITY OF WAR - LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH Imagine if you can - its 1914 - a young mother gets the dreaded letter telling her that her husband has been killed in action - her 5 year old son had to become the man of the house . 85 years later he visits the war grave where his father lies in France - he is an old soldier himself, his son served his country as did his grandson - who lost his life in conflict - he is with his great grandson - both fatherless through war - they share a bond - see below My daddy went away one day To win the war he said My mummy cried cos we were small And she felt she was all alone She waved him off and dried her tears Then cuddled us real tight ‘your daddy is our hero brave We’ll pray for him each night’ Each night before we went to sleep We prayed for daddy dear ‘Dear God please keep him safe and well And bring him back from Hell’ Mummy held her breath each day When she saw the post approach And when he said ‘Good Morning Lass’ As he passed her in the street She smiled and said ‘the same to you’ And thanked the Lord out loud One day he stopped and held her arm As he handed her a letter The neighbours ran out to the street As they heard my Mummy cry They saw her fall onto her knees As if she had been shot They picked her up and carried her To Grandma’s house nearby A neighbour ran into the school To take me home to Mummy She grasped my hands and smiled at me And gently kissed my brow ‘You must be strong and brave my lad Your Mummy needs you now’ My Mummy lay on Grandma’s bed Her eyes were red and swollen My baby sister was sound asleep Her face so round and shiny Mummy sobbed and held my hand And tried to say some words They tumbled out and I understood That my Daddy now was dead I’m standing here aged 90 years In front of rows of white Pure crosses draped in blood red blooms To remind us of their plight My Great Grandson, who bears my daddy’s name Turns and asks with tearful eye ‘Dear Pops – who’s to blame?’ I have no answers Only a question If that was the war to end all wars Why does the bloodshed continue? © Sheila M Anderson-Wray 2004

This one I put on Grampa Jim's thread when he tried to get people to write poems. There are a few others on there by other people. DO YOU REMEMBER? Do you remember How Christmas smelt when you were a child? The aromatic pine of the christmas tree the bath salts wrapped for a favourite aunt. And then there was the food; Mince pies, roast meat, Christmas pud, Friut cake, tangerines, appetizingly good. And the coal fire banked up for the morning Chestnuts roasting, burst without warning. Do you remember How Christmas sounded when you were a child? the rattle of the letter box when cards arrived, Parcels in removal vans, shouts of postal workers. Parents' whispers outside your door the crackle of paper, The creak of the bedroom floor. excited squeals of sister or brother happy laughter of Father and Mother. Do you remember How Christmas felt when you were a child? needles of the christmas tree pricking stockinged feet, Satin smooth baubles, prickly holly And scrunchy paper chains. Bulky stockings, orange in toe,everyone jolly. hard parcels, soft parcels tied with a bow. No two the same. smooth pages of a new book written by a favourite name. Do you remember How christmas tasted when you were a child? fruit jelly at Christmas parties Maybe tinned peaches and cold ice cream, Tangy apples and sweet tangerines. Spicy puddings following succulent meat, Creamy brazil nuts, chestnuts bitter sweet. Melting rich chocolates, And fizzy drinks a special treat. Ann Glos copyright 2003

This is something i wrote many years ago as a teenager in the 60s. My mother kept it. lol I am not a poem writer by any stretch of the imagination, but i thought i would just add it for fun. Here goes. ( please excuse the diction and spelling.) I want to be a Millionare I really, really do. Then i could buy a sports car, and perhaps a house, or two!! On monday i would go to work, and tell them where to shove it. I'de drive off in my brand new car, O'h boy' wouldn't i just love it. I could sail to an Island, where the sun sets in the west. and sip on Pina Colada's, and always buy the best. I could tip the waiters hundreds, coz there the working class. and run havoc with the management, they can go and kiss my A..'e Can i help you Sir! they always say, when they do not really mean it. They charge you heaps for a phone call, Iv'e been there and Iv'e seen it. I could buy a ship, a big one, bigger than the QE2, and sail off to England, Scotland, and Ireland too. Buy a castle, buy a pub, it would only be small change. If only i had millions, if i only had the brains. And in my house a dunny, with a heated toilet seat. I could wipe my bum with dollar notes, O'h woudn't that be neat. I want to be a millionare, i promise i wouldn't be mean. I want to be a millionare, to bad its just a dream. Tony Oz