We meet on the second Tuesday in the month at 10.30 a.m. Group Leader is Diane Silverston.
Still a small but cheerful band of Poets. We have been writing Rondeau Triolet and Kyrielle poems and Sonnet, we continue to attempt new challenges as well as revisit known forms of poetry. We will be discussing what we will do for the open day in October. After our meeting we then enjoy a light lunch before going to the U3A general meeting in the afternoon. We have room for any budding poets.
APOGRAPH - where each word in the title appears in the lines of the poem.
The Wonderful Sight Of A Child’s Smile
The World is such a beautiful thing to behold,
As those wonderful colours and plants unfold.
When you turn a corner and get an incredible sight.
With marvellous varied shades of shadow and light.
A Pleasure which is altered as the skies are changed,
When a child’s life might have to be rearranged.
But that smile helps a story to be told.
Time To Put The Clocks Back
Suddenly we realise that time is flying,
And the changes to our life is rather trying,
Being put into isolation.
Is not natural for the nation.
We are used to being organised by a clock.
Having spare time back is a shock.
Below are some more samples of recent work by group members...
Midsummer Night's Dream
Midsummer Night’s Dream
I love this Shakespeare play
Definitely all is not what it may seem
So much mischief on a midsummer day
Up and away goes Puck with his potion
Making Bottom wake with a donkey’s head
Making Titania love with such devotion
Even though he brays instead
Ruining plans for lovers’ dates
Night time meetings under the trees
In amongst the tete a tetes
Gaining momentum if you please
He, Puck, that is, caused more harm
To all who came within his sight
So lovers wandered arm in arm
Dreaming they were doing right
Returning Puck, to make amends
Everyone partnered as they should
All players were happy and friends
Meeting as only Shakespeare could
Why am I looking for strawberries, and quite desirous of Pimms?
It must be Wimbledon fortnight, a blur of rackets and limbs.
Murray and Konta are calling. Federer's strutting his style,
Becker is telling us that we'll see Kyrgios showing some guile.
Leave me alone with the telly, as if I'm on Henman Hill,
Expect the crowd to be vocal, whether the score's good or ill.
Down on the court there's Serena, smashing the ball against Fate.
On a large sofa I'm lying, just me and the tennis, it's great!
Next match is on in 10 minutes. Bring it all on - I can't wait.
Propelling us into contemplative mood,
Opening our minds to divine mental food,
Etching fine verses into our brain,
Touching our hearts with a haunting refrain;
Rendering beautiful moments of woe;
Yes, this poetic art form is our status quo.