DEAR MEMBER, please share your own poems with the society. If you use an alias you need feel no embarassement about the quality of your creation. Just email your poem to me at iantks@icloud.com and include the current login password to authenticate your membership. If possible use an email address that I won’t recognise, however, I promise no disclosure of sources. If you prefer to use your own name – that is your choice. If this section proves popular we may need to place a poems per member limit.
Simple Things
Walk the dogs on the hillside
Take the kids to the sea
Hold the hand of your true love
Bounce a baby on your knee.
Trek your way ‘cross the county
Ride your bike till you drop
Swim as far as you’re able
Run until you have to stop.
Speak the truth when it matters
Hold your tongue when it counts
Simple things are really what
This life is all about.
Muffin66
I Wandered
I wandered lonely as a sheep,
Rejected by the flock.
I wandered without tune or beep,
My mobile I’d forgot.
I wandered where I should not go,
Was quickly shown the door.
I wandered down to Beachy Head,
I’ll wander there no more.
Muffin66
The Bellaminski Rose
The Bellaminski rose from their bottomless pit,
And they climbed to the top of the furthermost spit;
Then they dropped to the ground with a noiseless weeee,
And jumped to their feet, of which they had three.
They turned to the east and they turned to the north,
Spun round about, then sat down and thought;
Then jumped to their feet with a thumb in each mouth,
Pulled at their ear, and walked to the south.
Then they took to their heels, and raced to the west,
Rolling down mountains… but stopped for a rest;
When they took out a sandwich of mustard and bacon,
And pink lemonade, which they drank through a straw.
Then they made up a plan by the light of a star,
That shone through a cloud, that had followed them far;
And without more ado, they all burst into song,
Telling tales of their childhood, and where they belonged.
Now they raced to the west at incredible speeds,
Swimming through deserts, and jogging through seas;
Till again they stood, under that very same spit,
Returning with joy, to their bottomless pit.
When the nights are long and the moon is clear,
There’s a “k” in the month, and three nines in the year;
You may spot the Bellaminski, as they search for the sun,
But don’t try and count them, because there are none.
Old Harry