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5/16/2017 3:35:21 PM
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The Hermit
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The Hermit
Part 1
Beyond Two Sullen Hill, not too far away,
Lives a solitary man, bitter, old and grey.
Known as the Hermit with heart of cold,
His life of unpleasantness is often told.
Many believe you would turn to stone,
If you caught his stare whilst on your own.
Tetchy and crabby for he knows no fun,
Stays in the dark, hidden from the sun.
In a ramshackle barn house, he resides,
Living on his own, to know one he confides.
Children believe stories of a Goblin myth,
Slaying victims at dusk, with a Neolith.
There must be more to this eremite man,
Whose body is frail and eyes are wan.
Believed to be Ninety and eight years more,
Was there a time when his heart was pure?
The Hermit
Part 2
Good morning Sir, how are you this day?
Tell me of your life, and why you live this way.
“I do not welcome strangers, or any one at all,
But, my time is getting near, I await the call.
Hitler took my home in early fourty-one
The house he destroyed, taking wife and son.
My dearest was 23 and young boy only two,
So, left a broken city, what else could I do?
I took a vow of silence and turned to God,
Became a recluse and viewed as very odd.
My life may seem morose and deeply sad,
Thought of as a grouch and slightly mad.
In truth, I must accept the world I see,
I asked nothing of life, it asked nothing of me.
Thank you for listening to my sad lament,
Grateful for your kindness and the time we spent”
Just a few days later the Hermit was gone,
Never had the chance to be someone.
Up on Two Sullen Hill, a stone of Granite cold,
To the Hermit, a posthumous, Heart of Gold
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5/28/2017 1:34:08 PM
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The Lost Years
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The Lost Years
Edie
Edie looks well for her age,
Hard to believe she’s almost94.
A widow wife these past 72years,
Lost husband Bill, in the 2ndWorld war.
Bill was presumed killed inaction,
Though his body, was never found.
Silently she grieved all theseyears,
Was he lying, in unmarkedground?
Edie lives in a small countrycottage,
In the High Peak town ofGlossop.
Moved from Ashton in theFifties,
To work in the local Hosieryshop.
Two siblings, Jean and TommyJoe
Good friends, who love her dear.
Whist Drive and Dom’s in theFeathers,
A Natter and glass of Stoutbeer.
Bingo at the Workers onSunday,
You’d be surprised how oftenshe’s won.
A feisty, keenly independentlady,
An old girl who likes to havefun.
Edie often asked herself thequestion;
Why did they send her Bill tofight?
A proud and gallant youngsoldier,
She oftenfelt something, wasn’t right.
One icy cold night after Bingo,
Edie slipped and fracturedher wrist.
A short stay in TamesideGeneral,
A break from the Feathers andthe Whist.
She met an old man in the dayroom,
Who appeared to catch her stare,
Watching TV with a foot inplaster,
“Two broken bones, don’t welook a pair”.
Gilbert
Badly injured and barelyconscious,
Gilbert was nursed by acouple in Dieppe.
They guessed that he wasEnglish,
Falling exhausted at theirdoorstep.
Eleven long years they caredfor him
Before they sadly passed away.
Loving, adoptive Frenchparents,
Made ready, his liberationday.
Gilbert doesn’t recall, lifebefore the war.
Left Dieppe for Manchester,Summer of ‘55.
In a curious, MancunianFrench accent,
Would say “I’m just thankful to be alive”.
Although he barely spokeEnglish,
He was drawn to theLancashire hills.
Learnt a trade in TimothyWhite’s,
and alifetime of dispensing pills.
Gilbert lives at Ashton GroveResidential,
A home befitting this BachelorKing.
No one really knows how oldhe is,
But he can certainly joke,dance and sing.
One night he tripped upon hisstage,
Falling awkward, he broke hisleft foot.
A short stay in TamesideGeneral,
Protested, but knew he muststay put.
Edie and Gilbert
Edie and Gilbert would talkfor hours,
During their rather impromptustay.
As if they’d known each otherforever
In some emotional, perceptiveway.
Gilbert had lost his earlyyears,
But reflected of a full andwonderful life.
Edie was gracious andcontented,
Despite 72 years, a widowwife.
Edie was as giddy as a schoolgirl,
As she listened to Gilbertsromancing.
In adversity had never felthappier,
Her young heart, ready fordancing.
He smiled in a way she’dremember,
Of a time that made her heartfill.
Smiling back, put her hand tohis face,
and witha tearful eye asked;
“is that you Bill”?
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5/28/2017 1:54:06 PM
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The Lost Years
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Apologies dear readers, there has been a bit of a copy and paste issue with some of the words joining up, Hopefully you can still read it. This is a poem, a story that I like personally, but don't know what to do with. It is written for the view point of Edie's brother Tommy Joe.
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6/7/2017 10:58:27 AM
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Uploading Biography Photo
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Hello All - I am having difficulty uploading a photo from my PC because of character errors. I am confused because if I browse and then upload a photo, I will always get the invalid / or \ any advice please, Regards Kevin
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7/1/2017 5:30:06 PM
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NASA
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I wonder if anyone at NASA ever said, "Come on it's not rocket science"
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7/18/2017 2:52:02 PM
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Hosting a Contest
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Can anyone tell me how to host a poetry contest. I can't seem to find anything, thanks
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8/23/2017 3:18:35 AM
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The Lost Years - Bittersweet love story
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The Lost Years
Edie
Edielooks well for her age,
Hardto believe she’s almost 94.
Awidow wife these past 72 years,
Losthusband Bill, in the 2nd World war.
Billwas presumed killed in action,
Thoughhis body, was never found.
Silentlyshe grieved all these years,
Washe lying, in unmarked ground?
Edielives in a small country cottage,
Inthe High Peak town of Glossop.
Movedfrom Ashton in the Fifties,
Towork in the local Hosiery shop.
Twosiblings, Jean and Tommy Joe
Goodfriends, who love her dear.
WhistDrive and Dom’s in the Feathers,
ANatter and glass of Stout beer.
The Lost Years
Edie 2
Bingoat the Workers on Sunday,
You’dbe surprised how often she’s won.
Afeisty, keenly independent lady,
Anold girl who likes to have fun.
Edie often asked herself the question;
Whydid they send her Bill to fight?
Aproud and gallant young soldier,
Sheoften felt something, wasn’t right.
Oneicy cold night after Bingo,
Edieslipped and fractured her wrist.
Ashort stay in Tameside General,
Abreak from the Feathers and the Whist.
Shemet an old man in the day room,
Whoappeared to catch her stare,
WatchingTV with foot in plaster,
“Twobroken bones, don’t we look a pair”.
Continuedoverleaf
The Lost Years
Gilbert
Badlyinjured and barely conscious,
Gilbertwas nursed by a couple in Dieppe.
Theyguessed that he was English,
Fallingexhausted at their doorstep.
Elevenlong years they cared for him
Beforethey sadly passed away.
Loving,adoptive French parents,
Madeready, his liberation day.
Gilbertdoesn’t recall, his life before the war.
LeftDieppe for Oldham, Summer of ‘55.
Ina curious, Mancunian French accent,
Wouldsay “I’m just thankful to be alive”.
Althoughhe barely spoke English,
Hewas drawn to the Lancashire hills.
Learnta trade in Timothy White’s,
anda lifetime of dispensing pills.
Gilbertlives at Ashton Grove Residential,
Ahome befitting this Bachelor King.
Noone really knows how old he is,
Buthe can certainly joke, dance and sing.
Onenight he tripped upon his stage,
Fallingawkward, he broke his left foot.
Ashort stay in Tameside General,
Protested,but knew he must stay put.
The Lost Years
Edie & Gilbert
Edieand Gilbert would talk for hours,
Duringtheir rather impromptu stay.
Asif they’d known each other forever
Insome emotional, perceptive way.
Gilberthad lost his early years,
Butreflected of a full and wonderful life.
Ediewas gracious and contented,
Despite72 years, a widow wife.
Ediewas as giddy as a school girl,
Asshe listened to Gilberts romancing.
Inadversity had never felt happier,
Heryoung heart, ready for dancing.
Hesmiled in a way she’d remember,
Ofa time that made her heart fill.
Smilingback, put her hand to his face,
andwith a tearful eye asked;
“isthat you Bill”
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9/6/2017 2:08:30 PM
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Sentimental Trash - OUR NEW HOME
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Our New Home
There is a rainbow over the stadium,
Team colours, Claret and Amber Gold.
A place that holds so many memories,
andthe stories, that have been told.
As a lad, watched all the greats here,
Those boys wore their shirt with pride.
I loved to be close to my heroes,
Shout encouragement down at pitch side.
Feeling sad as I sit in the South stand,
The ground is left derelict and forlorn.
The sound of the crowd has long gone,
No more heroes or greats will be born.
Closing my eyes I’d remember,
Those magical days in the cup.
The sweat and the tears and the joy,
of the year that we almost went up.
Our new home is out of town,
Purpose built, pristine and vain.
A place that lacks the emotion,
Executives drinking champagne.
Times change, I must accept this,
The rich men have stolen my dream.
My Claret and Amber days are over,
asIfinally say goodbye to my team.
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9/7/2017 12:49:00 PM
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Sentimental Trash - OUR NEW HOME
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Thank you so much for your very informative suggestions. I really appreciate the time you have spent considering your Critique. I found it very useful and agree with your suggestions. It is really helpful to have constructive feedback. Kind regards to you, Kevin
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