4 minute read
POEMS
NO OTHER GOD
God has made us in his image Have we need of aught beside? Need we any lesser god to satisfy our pride?
Should we worship health or wealth? For this soon will pass away. God will give us life abundant if we walk his way.
For his love is living water In a dry and thirsty land Bread each day he gives from heaven, if in trust we’ll stand
No need for us to worship beauty, For God will give us of his own If we’ll come to seek his face, - worship him alone.
Let’s us banish gods of stardom Or of popularity, Fame, we know, is oft times fleeting - things that others see.
You alone are King for ever, Your love eternal, strong and true And your word is living water. Yes, we will worship you.
Pauline Lewis, Porthcawl
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THANKS FOR THE MEMORY
My baby brother’s name is Scott And when he was young, he was sick a lot I had a favourite teddy bear That I didn’t ever want to share I loved that bear and called him Ted I carried him round and took him to bed He had brown trousers of corduroy He really was my pride and joy Then one day when I’d left for school Little Scott was playing the fool He borrowed Ted, a dirty trick Then he was quite violently sick He spewed up all that was in his guts Out came tomatoes, carrots and nuts Yes, you’ve guessed it the whole lot spread All over my favourite bear called Ted I cried when I got home that day I’d strangle Scott if I had my way My mother said, ‘He didn’t mean it, It’ll be good as new, son, when I clean it.’ So, Ted was washed and hung out to dry Beneath a sunny sea-blue sky He slept in the airing cupboard that night My mother said, ‘Now he’ll be all right.’ Was he all right? No, not at all He smelt of sick, which made me bawl I grabbed him by the arm and ran And threw him down the toilet pan It dealt me such a heavy blow But that was forty years ago Now Mam has gone and left to me A cardboard box in her legacy In that box was little Ted And a lovely note which simply said I kept this bear for you to see Oh, thank you Mam for the memory!
John Davies Eglwys Nunnydd, Margam
APRIL
April is with us, Spring’s in the air. But what awaits us? And should we care? Be very careful Play it all cool. Don’t get tricked and Become ‘April Fool’! Easter approaches, Eggs appear overnight. Easter Bunny has been To children’s delight. The end of the month May bring more April showers, But don’t forget They bring those May flowers.
Judy Dee, Porthcawl
ANOTHER DAY
Another day is dawning The future is yawning Another hope unfolding Another dollar unrolling, I stand and embrace a day by the sea, A new day is dawning for me. Take off my shoes and socks On the slippery, sloopy rocks, In the company of anemones and crabs Choose some pebbles and shells for these bags, Oh what a wonderful, roaming adventure, exploring The beaches and shore I was born in, A sleepy embrace of each day be the sea, Another day is calling, For a new day is dawning for me.
Sally Richards, Porthcawl
THE ETERNAL SOUL
I was born in Danzig, beside a plough, We owned a farm where I milked a cow. The world was at peace, But upon that fateful day this would cease.
The Nazi invasion had begun, We were unable to run. That was only the start of their terror, It seemed that it would go on forever.
We lost every right, I had a new card that night. They changed my name to ‘Israel’, And so I embarked upon this dreadful tale.
Off to the ghettos I was sent, To face what, endless torment? So many were already dead, Starved of even a loaf of bread.
How could I survive? Most certainly, I could not thrive. I entered the dreaded gates, With thousands, I faced Auschwitz and its fates.
I smelled death from a chimney, The Final Solution would erase me. Children, separated, would cry, They must have known that soon their parents would die.
Now, I am weak and must shower, We all cry, but do not cower. They told us nothing but lies, I mop my brow as the gas burns my eyes.
Black and white is all I see, My hearing is crowded by those who wish to flee. Dear reader, do not forget me in this silent tomb, For forever at Auschwitz my soul shall loom.
Rhys Jones, North Cornelly, age 14
REINCARNATION
When a day is a word in the sentence of a week. And a month a verse in the chapter of a year. Then one life is but a book. In the library of our enlightenment.
