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Denise Doe Poem
Childhood memories,making camps upon the moors
wriggling through the bracken deep,
Making paths to our secret den.
Climbing trees,and falling too!
Moss on stones, glistening sun on stepping stones,
Swimming in the river...with a shiver.
Roly poly down the hill, walking through the woods.
Daisy chains, primroses and bluebells in the hedgerow.
The smell so sweet on long country walks,
Rhubarb dipped in bags of sugar as we strolled.
The smell of the copper boiling. with steam all around,
Mum turning the mangle with long white sheets.
Flickering candles at bedtime, drawing in the dim light,
Making Easter cards, and painting by numbers ( from an uncle so dear)
Grandad would visit, smarties in hand.
Sitting by the flickering fire, winter winds whistling outside,
Snow on Christmas day, presents in six neat piles,
Dolls with newly knitted clothes,
Oranges and nuts in stocking socks.
Sharing a bed, pass me down clothes,
tea sets and hoola hoops, dressing up gowns.
Dad in the garden digging the ground'
Growing the vegetables, flowers abound.
Hot stews and heavy dumplings, soggy yummy white chips,( and mushy peas),
Cups of cocoa perfectly made.
Picnics on verges, home made pasties, with our names on (eaten from bags).
Licking the wooden spoon, when the cakes were made.
Trips to the seaside, buckets and spades.
Going to the youth club, listening to records,
The Beatles, the Kinks...that sort of thing.
Doing the shake and the twist, shift dresses and minis ( the first time around!!)
My first pair of high heel shoes, clicking the ground.
Now a young woman, first date...Disappointing.
Later to find a soul mate, remembering when our eyes met,
The stir from within (the feelings still there).
Loving our children, watching them grow.
Playing in the garden, making tents with sheets.Eating mud, crunching snails.
Washing dolls clothes in a bowl fill of suds.
Teenage tantrums,"nobody understands"..."it's not fair ! "
" Going out tonight Mum, please do my hair".
All grown up, children of their own,
My beautiful children have flown.
Precious grandchildren, each and every one,
" Granny can we have a biscuit or a video?"
Playing in the garden with ball and a bat,
" Grandad can we see the fish" frogs jumping in the pond.
"Lets go into the secret garden, it's Grannys special place"
( full of compost bins, vegetables that sort of thing!)
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
Like a garden path,
Life has many turns
Bringing forth new beginnings
And new friends
We hold on lovingly
To old ones,
Like the sweet jasmine on the walls.
Renewing boarders with flowers,
Scents and colours,
The joy of which we are yet to know.
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
The old school bell would ring out at the start of the day.
Chalk on blackboards, shirts and ties.
The school colours of green and gold.
Crowded classrooms, with very little room.
Lunchtimes were spent in classrooms,small and crampt.
No kitchen, the meals brought in.
Meals served up by Mrs May and Mrs Coles.
Dinner ladies Mrs Turner,Mrs Burd and Mrs Bolt.
Four classes, plus one held in the village hall.
My class of thirty seven, tables in long rows side by side.
Janet and John books then Peter and Jane.
Classroom Assemblies were the norm'.
The headmaster Mr Collier strict and stern.
There were very few facilities.
Mrs Bird,Mr Scott,Mrs Collier and young Mss Ball.
And Pre National Curriculum....
The children having separate playtimes.
In the tiny playground, there wasn't much room.!
Outside toilets, cold in winter.
Morning break;children drinking milk out of a bottle with a straw.
The long hot hazy summer days
sports day held in the farmers field across the way.
The three legged race and the egg and spoon.
Children running, jumping, having fun.
And then the important news...
We're soon to have a.... Brand New School !
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
The making of a book,
with love within it's pages;
should be a piece of cake,
and not take her ages!
Where's Denise? asked Molly,
In answer came a look;
I think she's in the staff room,
making a book.
Oh! that makes sense,
I wonder if she needs a hand;
the fact she's in a muddle;
I quite understand !
Can I give assistance,
anything I can do?
"Old pictures, if you've any
that would save the day".
At home theres photos everywhere,
Denise cannot be found,
Colin's waiting for his tea,
but D's gone underground.
Hours, days, a week gone by,
the end is in sight; she's nearly there,
with camera still in hand,
no-ones safe; no place to blinkin' hide!
Late at night 'n' early morn,
bags beneath her eyes;
"not enough hours in a day"
the staff hear her say...
Not a glue -stick left in school,
Denise has used the lot.
computer hogging, scanner manning;
she's an expert at them all.
At last; at last, it's done and finished,
every word and picture.
children's work, upon the cover;
she wipes the sweat from her brow,
and binds it all together....phew !
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
All around I hear the sound of bird song.
As I sit and rest awhile;
In my special place within my garden still.
Sun glistening through the archway.
Dancing upon the lawn.
Insects flittering from
leaf to leaf.
The sound of bees humming around the Hebe,
Going about their daily chores.
The warm sunshine lays upon my face.
As I hear a cuckoo; and somewhere
people laughing.
Music softly playing from
a neighbours open window…
I sit here in the gazebo and take it all within,
And sigh with blissful abandonment
of absolute happiness;
In this very precious moment of calm...
Denise Doe
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
I love my garden,
my beautiful place.
The perfume surrounds me,
of scented flowers abound.
There is so much love in my garden,
my special place.
where I often sit and contemplate,
the endless love of my family...encircles.
I love to sit here in my garden,
where a head full of thoughts unfold.
I love to sit in my garden,
my very special place...
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
What of change, be it the seasons of life or the colours of our minds;
Do we stand still or move on 'til we find what we are looking for.
Change is a natural phenomenon; part of our own creation.
It gives us strength, hope and realisation of our worth, be it good or bad.
Change is the way forward, into the next world, in this or the next;
Be not afraid of it; go with it and be of happy mind.
Seasons of life; from childhood to youth, the years of finding ourself, sometimes
with struggle and question.
Then the season of wisdom, to take stock and look back, not to linger.
The fourth season of change is not to be entered with dread; but with joy and
excitement.
For with it comes a colourful new life; Go forth into it with a happy heart.
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
On long summer days lets sit and talk awhile,
Making time for each other, endless conversation
( I think we could talk forever...)
Sitting in the garden,soothing cups of tea,
The sweet smell of boarders; brimming with colour.
Glasses full of lemonade, sun hats, happy smiles,
Endless girlish chatter, that's what friendship brings to mind.
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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Denise Doe Poem
To dad with love
With a sigh of relief, there they are,
Those precious verses...to me lovingly entrusted.
With fretful mind,looking,looking,
in endless files and boxes.
Papers, more papers, shaking hands unfolding...
Oh no, they are not there, nowhere to be found.
Day upon day, trying to recall ,
Where oh where are those folded sheets.
Memory playing tricks, mind in a whirl...
Sure they were there.
Trying to imagine, having to explain,
why those entrusted words were lost.
a fate worse...cannot contemplate
will love evaporate to hate...
From tormented mind to excited joy,
There my hand on the folded form...
of sheets of treasured words of times gone by.With a sigh of relief ...I find,
those precious, so precious verses...
to me lovingly entrusted.
Copyright © Denise Doe | Year Posted 2008
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