A place to add your poems forum: Poem
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WE,VE HAD SOME SNOW. By Brian Colley, Clowne, Derbyshire. Oh dear! Again we've had some snow, Why all things stop I just don't know. Few inches can cause cars to halt Although most roads have grit and salt. Rail services are also hit, But buses are the first to quit, The airports close with cancelled flights, While TV news shows all the sights, Reporters sent throughout the land, To talk to kids who think it's grand Their school is closed and they can play in all the snow upon a sleigh, While those who do not want to shirk walk through it all to get to work. Forecasters full of doom and gloom sit nug and warm inside a room to tell us not to venture out while all the snow lays roundabout. But old folk dash for milk and bread, They think they need to plan ahead. In numbers large they all invade the local shops, the shelves to raid. To then allay their deepest fears they buy enough to last for years, they're risking broken arms and legs to go and buy a dozen eggs. If ever snowfall is so great like that of '47 weight, How will we manage? No one knows. This counrty will just have to close. Muriel |
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| Dear Muriel, I make my own bread and soup, and make sure my neighbours get as much as I can get them. Blitz spirit my dear that is what it is. As for your poem yes it is very true, for the lazy! Love. Neil. |
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| Hi Neil, I make my own soup. Sarah will tell you have far I have cleared the ice from Horton street (Side entrance) from the front gate up the side of the house) so I am shattered now, but being on a slope it is no fun for people walking down the road, went to put some grit and salt down all gone from the bin, end of the road, so it will be just as bad to walk on in the morning when the ice comes back. Neil do you know if your Mum got her parcel (Latest one). No mail today yet again if everyone cleared outside their property, (boundry ) the postman, and any one else could do deliveries. Last of my parcels went off Tuesday, god only knows when people will receive anything. Not heard from my auny in Michigan, she is not too far from the lakes. so could be all snowed in. Love to Sarah. and of cause you Mum 2. |
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I love the poem. more fun to read about the snow and ice than to be in it .  |
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| THE INQUISTIVE MIND OF A CHILD By Author Unknown. Why are they selling poppies, Mummy? Selling poppies in town today. The poppies, child, are flowers of love. For men who marched away. But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy? Why not a beautiful rose? Because my child, men fought and died in the fields where the poppies grow. But why are the poppies so red, Mummy? Why are the poppies so red? Red is the colour of blood, my child. The blood that our soldier shed.. The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy. Why does it have to be black? Black, my child, is the symbol of grief. For the men who never came back. But why, Mummy are you crying so? Your tears are giving you pain. My tears are my fears for you my child. For the world is forgetting again From Muriel |
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