Call to Arms

Half a circle

Or a crescent

With a focal point

For the silence

And the speaker

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Beautiful Countryside

There is a tree

I wish to find

Which I last climbed

In Nineteen-Sixty-Three

The end of the fool

I passed the Eleven-plus

Travelled by Baddeley’s bus

To Penistone Grammar School

It was a time of fear

Innocence was raised

Nightmares invaded

Eyes and mind once so clear

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Afterword

What more to say?

It has been a pleasure

Yes that’s the rub of it.

The Two Of Us

If my son

Could be fishing here

He’d think his day had come

With thoughts of the low pass weir

And you my friendly reed

How is it for you to zoom

On this balmy, sunshine indeed

August afternoon

What is that throttled whistling bird

Not too too far away

Yes it was the shrill that I heard

But hey, you have your own style of play

Of all the women who I have known

One would like this place the best

With a poem her love would come to own

Unlike the dream scales of the rest

Perhaps we would lie

Upon the circular benches

Effortless, no need to try

Steadied by our lover’s senses

Out Of Step

I’m opting out of the guided walk

Instead to look for the reed beds, on my own

But first I have to find a map

Or instead to ask group leader Steve

Beside the ferns and the flowers

There are thistles and nettles

Several hundred yards yet

To the circular platform, in the reeds

Ripples on the water

Plip-plop sounds

Of fish or frogs leaving

Or entering the water

If you dropped your wedding ring

It would be gone forever