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WRITINGS ON THE WALL
Every month a topic or theme is set for a voluntary assignment of about 800 words prose or 40 lines of poetry. Writers may choose not to use the prompt if they wish. The following month, some are selected to be read by the writers for general feedback. All writings can be emailed to [email protected] to be placed onto the website for reading between meetings.
Our writers appreciate receiving feedback on their writings. You can comment or provide constructive criticism on a poem in the form below.
Our writers appreciate receiving feedback on their writings. You can comment or provide constructive criticism on a poem in the form below.
March 2024 - Prompt: Down the Rabbit Hole
Currently there are no submissions.
New submissions to this section are placed first, older pieces follow.
All contributions will stay on for three months,
Thank you to the author for sharing these poems. They will be here for your reading pleasure until the end of April 2024.
MEMORIES
Dawn Rae (c) December 1996
(from her book Milestones)
The turn of a head, a remembered laugh,
Your eyes meet mine and I am transported...
Oh ! To be young and in love again !
Your dark eyes sparkle with laughter
At something I've said or done.
You ruffle my hair and turn away...
I want to cry out, `Stay - please stay!'
That first sweet kiss, so hesitant,
The embarrassed chuckle, the quick cuddle
Then it's over, and you are gone...
How my heart yearns for you - only you!
And the pain, the searing pain, to see you
In someone else's arms...
How could you not see that it should have been me ?
So long ago - a lifetime past -
Yet a glimpse in a crowd brings it all back.
To see you again... yes, I must, just once !
So I tackle the crowd and push my way through.
I call out your name... but it's not you.
A stranger's face looks back at me
And I smile, embarrassed, knowing he
Unknowingly
Has given me a precious gift...
Memories… bitter-sweet memories.
SO THEY SAY
Dawn Rae (c) September 1993
(from her book Milestones)
A child approaches – eyes large, hand open,
Asking – begging.
Another hand reaches for a coin.
Stop, they say. Don’t do it, they say.
It’ll only go for glue or video games.
It’s all a con – they go home at night
To warmth and food. Don’t do it.
But I have seen
A hungry face – eyes filled with tears
A mother’s eyes as her child cries
For non-existent food.
I have felt those tears.
If my small coin can ease one iota of suffering
Is that not something ?
A child leads a man – an old man,
Blind, in pain, leaning heavily,
Book in hand. Little black battered book.
No, they say. Don’t do it, they say.
It’s organised, you know. Busloads
Come in daily – go home jingling
From fools like you. Don’t do it.
But I have seen
A body – cold, tired, alone body
Huddled on its cardboard bed
With its newspaper blanket
In its dustbin bedroom.
No, I can’t change it,
But must I give less
Because I can’t give more ?
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