Wednesday, 6 May 2015

I know you might be tired of hearing about it all - but please - do vote - whoever it is for!!

We did this last month as part of our Poetry Month:

Election Time

I am a constituent and I try when I can
To visit the ballot box, exercising my vote.
Together we elect a representative of the community
But this constituent is starting to float.

I am part of the electorate and I try when I may
Enfranchised with others to send them to Public office.
But should I go right or lean to the left
Or abstain and just cut my losses?

I am a cog in a wheel and I try when I must
To do justice to the suffrage sisters.
But cometh the hour, cometh the man
For somehow we still over-elect the Misters.

I am an elector and I try when the time comes
To do my duty and cast the paper incognito
But all of the colours and all of the shades
Make me wish I had power of veto.

I would just add:

I am an elector and I owe it others
To exercise my vote even even if I spoil your party.
The women who died, the wives and the mothers
the workers, the employers, the hale and the hearty.
And so tomorrow, however disillusioned, worried about hospitals or a nuclear threat
I will vote and remember those who could not and to whom I am forever in debt.

Thursday, 30 April 2015


Colourless, yellow, green or a pinkish hue.
For me there is only variety that is a shade of blue.
From cornflower to deep cobalt, or sky to cool azure,
From Prussion to Egyptian the stone they all would treasure.
The boating foes, babies and the sky, each have their own shade
That bears their name, proud and distinguished on parade.
From Periwinkle to electric blue flashing through the night
The sapphire’s intensity draws you in forthwith
And the swirling blue drags you down in the eddies of the myth.
My birthstone, my blue mood, my heart’s very own desire,
My link with the past, the curse it holds, enigmatic deep blue sapphire.

By Linda Prince

Days End

My day is now night

And I’m ready for bed,

What will I dream?

What will go through my head?

Will it be real where I re-live my life?

Or dreamscape? Where reading is done with a knife.

Penetrating my day with artistic illusion

A dream comes, clarifies, practises allusion.

By Caroline Whalley

© Paul CC by 2.0