Herald - Issue 372

v THE NEXT HERALD IS OUT ON 30TH MAY v 9th May 2019 • The HERALD • Page 69 PART TIME SCHOOL RUN DRIVERS REQUIRED School run drivers required to work for a friendly family run business located in the Totton area. Drivers must be flexible & reliable with a clean driving licence. A New Forest Private Hire licence would be an advantage. A Car and fuelcard will be supplied to the successful applicant This position would ideally suit a retired/semi retired person. Hours will be between 15-20 hours per week with good rates of pay. Please contact Paul or Ross on 023 8086 2040 between 9.30am-4.30pm or email drivers@tccsouthampton.co.uk HERALD RECRUITMENT Poets Corner THE NEST BOX by Dorothy Lockyer The Monster on Hythe Pier by Jennifer Jones THE BILL by Marlene Parmenter I know I shouldn’t really spy Because you’re very small and shy. I’ve placed a camera in your home. is to you, completely unknown! I’ve watched you through cold winter nights As light of day has taken ight You it into this warm dry space Like a gentle breeze, leaving no trace. Spring has come, there’s much work to do With you new found mate helping you. Gathering moss, dries grasses as well Weaving, shaping as together they gel. Lined with feathers a perfect shape In which to lay eggs, one to eight. I watch with you in anticipation And when they hatch, in celebration! I crept upon the pier, hoping the monster wouldn’t stir, but it woke as I’d feared. My heart began to pounded, with my feet as I ran. Travelling down the tracks, the monster’s bones go clankety clank. So, I raced to keep my pace. All this time, the Sun’s rays danced and played upon the waves caring little for my fate. Peeking through the sun bleached timbers; the sea would watch me run. So, my only choice is to carry on, hoping time and tide are on my side. And finally, my tired legs reached the end; the monster too is out of steam. I gazed down the pier, not thinking about what lays ahead. But, the monster known what time will do. Those fledgling years flew too fast, but now the monster carries me. Together we travel along those old silvered planks; I smile as I listen to its old bones go clankety clack. But now, I watch on as other children race along being chased by the monster just like me. Posted through the door Like a letter bomb. Sitting on the table “With love from Telecom” I dread this day each quarter And wonder if it wise, To have our telephone bill Changed to itemised. “ ere better be no mobiles Or international calls” Its head decapitation For those who break the rules. Each occupant is interrogated. Mother, girl and boy, “Was this call necessary? e phone is not a toy”. Eyes scanning through the numbers Marking them with ticks, What’s this one for two hours? And not even a er six. I’ll have their guts for garters, Oh, but now I see, at phone call was essential, It was made by me! Spring by Jim Dolbear (In words of one syllable) Oh how I yearn for the Spring, to see the leaves on the bough. And the lark soar on the wing, while fields are tilled by the plough. The lambs they will frisk and play, as the fox dreams in his lair. To wait for the end of day, when the owl comes out to stare. The green fields will soon yield hay, to be stacked high in the barn. Cows to milk will wend their way, and old men will sit and yarn. The crows high up in the trees, will glean twigs to make a nest. Then fly to fields on the breeze, ‘til the sun sets in the West. Bees will fly from bud to bud, then back to the hive will fly. Fat pigs will root in the mud, then lay in the sun to dry. Oh how I yearn for the Spring, to bring new life to the earth. And hear a child laugh and sing, then life will be all the worth. Stalagmites and stalactites Growing closer through the years Like long lost lovers in the dark Each crying secret tears Fingers reaching stretching probing Through darkness and through gloom Where tiny cracks in granite Let sunlight slant into the room Fingers reaching from the floor Forever searching wanting more But ten thousand years of patience Still await the bride and groom Ten thousand long years slowly pass Each teardrop building on the last Nature’s etchings unsurpassed In pillars made of tears Fingers greeting fingers touch Five thousand years and hands will clutch Two forms united join as one In a lover’s long embrace Stalagmites and stalactites Growing closer through the years Like long lost lovers in the dark Each crying secret tears Secret Tears by David K Wilson Bookfinder by Warwick Smith I buy books Fascinating, absorbing, momentary, Take them home, shelve them, Lose them Among the long shelves Of other books. Do I read them? No. I treasure them A pleasure yet to come - If they can be found Alongside other momentary Acquisitions. He was nearing the end of his story It had been a great read Albeit at times a little unpredictable But now he was feeling sad He knew he was close to the end Close to the end of his book Such many varied and different characters The main one’s had become like close friends Others had just passed through He looked back once more over the final words And he knew At that very moment There would never be another story To equal this one It had always seemed to him Like he was the main character in the book It had been wonderful From the very beginning To the very end He sat back lowering the book And as he put it down The candle flame guttered And flickered Until finally it went out He peered into the darkness Into the distance Way out into the distance Where he could just make out A very bright light The light seemed to beckon to him To call him Towards a bright tunnel As it always does As it always has And as it always will In the last chapter Of the book of life! BOOK OF LIFE by David K Wilson

RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MTIyNzI=