National Poetry Day

Yesterday was National Poetry Day, which I missed, so I’m belatedly including one of my many poems written way back in 1988 which was published in an anthology as one of the winners in a national poetry competition.

Its sentiments are, I think, equally important today as they were then. I wonder what you think.

Old lady half hidden behind curtain lace, arthritic prisoner at her window
sat there friendless etched upon your face. No family to tend and nurse
a discarded burden on the state. I, minding my own business, can no longer
ignore your lonely stare; so do not be surprised to hear the opening of the gate,
a doorbell ringing, I asking neighbourly of anything you need or
fetching shopping. I haven’t got a great deal to share only time passing
the pot of tea and kindness to show there are still people
Who care for a weeping child huddled in a corner frozen blue with cold,
frozen stiff with fear of a fist that beats; scolding for no reason
left neglected, hungry; dirty the guilty secrets kept hidden locked
under stairs. Screams at night, not silent, I can no longer ignore ­—
I must be the someone who has to interfere to stop the cruelty a helpless
child is suffering. No more tears, for the hand now holding is of
A friend who cares when forests are cut down, oak tree dead giving space
instead to glass office blocks in urban conurbation town with precinct square.
Where Springwood Rise is only a name remembered up high on a towering
concrete wall and people in their designer houses cannot recall what once
was growing there? When paper is just a faded museum exhibition piece
the acorn I have planted in my garden will have grown and spread its seed.
The news flashed on computer screens commuters daily read that my
children’s children’s children will sit beneath the dappled shade to hear
the leaves whispering “Thank God someone showed they cared!”

Do contact me via my contact page or on if you would like to write a Guest Post for Kit Library on any matter or topic concerning books, reading or writing, or a topic for Kit’s Loving Life

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