National Poetry Day

Every year, we receive a collection of poems from our talented local poets, inspired by the theme for National Poetry Day. This year, the theme was "Wonder," and we invite you to dive in and enjoy this year's entries. 

Winter Wonder

Winter padded up to my house in the night,

A caressing white hand on my door.

Breathed out a frosting obliterating sight

And chilling my bones to the core.

The snow it had left sat in silence,

The birds, feather-puffed, hid in trees,

The clouds almost groaned in a penance

And releasing their loads were set free.

Crystal pennants hung from the fenceposts

Glistening with the palest of blues.

Blades of grass rigid like signposts

Silver edging the pale avenues.

The stillness began to be broken

As the town rose stretching its bones

The grumbling of words still unspoken

The inconvenience of work to be done.

But overjoyed at winter’s surprise

Children’s faces lit up with pleasure

Their shrill laughter filling the skies

Seeing it as a gift to be treasured.

Yet no adults surveyed the wonder

Of the beauty in front of their nose,

Or stopped for one moment to ponder

At the splendour that Nature bestows.

Helen Dawson

I wonder

I wonder when I’ll watch my last leaf fall

I wonder when I’ll hear your last laugh echo down the hall

I wonder will I be warm or alone

I wonder in a hospital or at home

I wonder will there be music or silence and forlorn

I wonder will it hurt to be torn from this mortal shell

I wonder am I for Heaven or for hell

I wonder will you hold my hand

I wonder will I understand

Dominic Doyle

Wonder

Golden shafts of Autumn slant across the grass

Summer slowly fades away, and soon she will be passed.

Yet Summer clings to Autumn, her colours leave a trace

Of green with the russet, bronze and gold on Autumn’s lovely face.

Crystal jewels of Winter hanging from the trees,

Autumn slowly fades away in Winter’s gripping freeze.

Yet Autumn clings to Winter when golden leaves are found

And sometimes Autumn sunshine warms the frosty ground.

Eager buds of Springtime pushing through the earth,

Winter slowly fades away to welcome the new birth.

Yet Winter clings to Springtime when all is cold and still

And morning frost instead of dew relives the Winter chill.

Heady scents of Summer, flowers all ablaze.

Springtime must surrender to long, hot, sunny days.

Yet Springtime clings to Summer, new life she’ll always bring,

For every flower of Summer has echoes of the Spring.

The circle turns and golden Autumn slants across the grass.

Autumn goes, then Winter comes, then Winter’s time has passed.

Spring and Summer ebb and flow, the seasons all entwine –

The circle turns, the circle turns until the end of time.

Jill Pemberton

A Little Wonder

We teach the children, when they go

to school, the way to make a bow

for ribbons, and for shoes.

We pass it down from hand to hand -

a knack they’ll never lose.

A useful, necessary skill

from practice honed each day, until

it’s easy beyond thought.

Deft expertise, down all the years -

a common work of art.

We pass it on, an easy flow

with use and beauty in one go;

we make a loop, and round, and so -

the little wonder of a bow.

Carole Martin

Wondering

I sit and wonder in the bookshop bar

while idly watching others from afar

as they queue together glancing at me,

and when they do I think on what they see.

I sit and wonder as they shuffle and stare

at the food and drinks on offer there –

the regulars and others who wander in,

and those who might a new routine begin.

I sit and wonder at the busy scene

as each one’s character I briefly glean,

as pairs and singles wait in line to see

and familiar faces acknowledge me.

I sit and wonder as they look my way

with my daily paper and usual au lait

as I soak up the printed daily news

while urging it to challenge and amuse.

I sit and wonder as I watch them all

as some chose a table by the wall –

their age and manner and station in life,

married or single, in peace or in strife.

I sit and wonder as they check their phones,

a manic habit of which most are prone –

the students on laptops tapping away,

and office workers snacking at midday.

I sit and wonder observing the fact

of the silent couples who barely react,

and attractive youngsters who gabble away,

and the lonely ones passing time away.

I sit and wonder as I view the array

of those who are working and those at play,

and those like me who speculate thereby

while shooting the breeze with a covert eye.                                   

Ian Hill

The Wonder of Ageing

Fame and fortune have passed him by

He no longer worries about “when or why”

Been there, seen it, done it, without regret

Bringing peace of mind, “he’s in no ones debt”

Devoid of anxiety, self-doubt and stress

Blind indifference, means he couldn’t care less

Growing old stubbornly has been his only crime

As he continues the journey down the streets of time

His fading memory ebbs and flows

Yet his enjoyment for life grows and grows

Many thoughts and feelings he wants to share

These inner possessions make him a millionaire

Having family round him and friends at his shoulder

Life just gets better as he grows older…

By “Th’owd Mon”

If you’d like to hear more brilliant poetry, why not join us for our National Poetry Day Open Mic on Thursday 1 October at Central Library, Le Mans Crescent, Bolton, BL1 1SE, from 6:00pm to 7:15pm.

Performance slots are now full, but everyone is welcome to come along, enjoy the readings, and be part of the audience.