Eddie Holden Poetry

NOW POETRY IS SOMETHING EITHER YOU LIKE IT OR YOU DO NOT,WELL I LIKE IT, WHY WELL I LOOK AT IT LIKE A BOOK, IT TELLS A STORY, BUT IN VERSE AND MUCH SHORTER.

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No 1

My first one is, its about life and my wife has this in one of her little jotty books,it looked the right one to start with.

I shall pass through this world but once.

Therefore that I can do ,of any kindness.

That I can show to any fellow creatures.

Let me do it now,let me not defer or neglect it.

For I shall not pass this way again.

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No 2.

THOUGHTS by Georgia Jones of ELY

At something past one l awoke in my bed

Well I would for that's where I lay my head

Where I switchout the light and get to sleep.

Each night it's a habit I keep

But early this morning I woke from my dreams

And everythings strange or so it all seems

Someone else is awake someone I can't see

But I feel as if someone is thinking of me

Now its just two and I'm still awake

So I've crept downstairs and I think I,LL make

A pot of Earl Grey a comforting brew

A typically English thing to do

I settle with tea in a comfortable chair

And glance round the room theres no-one else there

And yet I feel someone as close as can be

Someone somewhere is thinking of me.

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No 3 .

ELY CATHEDRAL. by JOHN ELLIS, LITTLEPORT

The ship of the fens stands proud on a hill

Watching over the land, where fen farmers till.

In floodlight splender at night she stand

And from Stuntney Hill looks very grand

Then in the morning as the Sun rises higher

Tis a scene that doth inspire.

As it shines on the Cathedral Towers

Brings home the truth of its Christian powers.

Since the eleventh century it has survived

And for fourteen years has been revived

The people of ELY should be very proud

A symbol of HOPE, FAITH, and Trust

To keep it going,really is a must.

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No 4. This poem belongs to Kathleen Gillum

Foretaste of Spring.

Out of the cold and frozen earth the tiny shoots appear

And always take me by surprise at this time of year.

These dainty, fragile drops of white on slender stalks of green.

Have somehow sprung up overnight upon the winter scene.

They are the first of all the flowers to brave the ice and cold.

Who gives the secret strength they have, to stand there brave and bold.?

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No 5 THE GARDENER'S POEM AND HYMN Presented by GILL PEAKS

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small.

All things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.

But what we never mention, though gardener's know it's true.

Is when he made the goodies, he made the baddies too.

All things spray and swattable, disasters great and small.

All things paraquatable, the Lord God made them all

The greenfly on the roses, the maggots in the peas.

Manure that fills our noses, he also gave us these.

The fungus on the goose-gogs, the club root on the greens.

The slugs that eat the lettuce and chew the aubergines.

The drought that kills the fuchsias, the frost that nips the buds.

The rain that drowns the seedlings, the blight that hits the spuds.

The midges and mosquitoes, the nettles and the weeds.

The pigeons in the green stuff,the sparrows on the seeds .

The fly that gets the carrots, the wasp that eats the plums.

How black the gardener's outlook, though green may be his thumbs.

But still we gardener's labour, midst vegetables and flowers.

And pray what hits our neighbours, will somehow bypass ours.

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small

All things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.

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No 6 , UNIQUE. By Georgia Jones, of ELY

It took me a very long time to see that however different, I've got to be me; from the time we're born we've each unique

Yet we'll spend all our childhood trying to seek a way to fit in, to be like the others.

But to hide our true self only smothers the real person we are, the one we call l.

We must dicover ourselves because time will fly.

Don't leave it too late to set yourself free, hold your head high, and say; "I'm me".

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No 7. WINTER, By Grayston Burgess, Histon, Cambs.

First the rain, then comes the mud sleet and snow to freeze the blood.

Nothing moves when all is chill, light reflects from distant hill.

Naked trees host mournful crows, frosted feathers, numbing toes.

Waiting for a signal clear when to cackle when to cheer.

Hardened ground pays little heed to the birds who come to feed on crumbs from from rich mens tables.

Weary workers trudge the street drooping hearts with plodding beat in the surly hurly-burly.

Of the morning rush hour, early.

Shall we ever hear the spring daffodils and bluebells ring ?.

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No 8, FLOWER OF LOVE, by ROWLAND KING, BARTON.

My garden is a place of dreams adorned for you with a myriad of themes.

A sweet and personal venue hallowed by my love for you.

Honesty is an attribute to enact the reinforcement of our valentine pact tenderness kindles my fancy, anew sincerity is my plege to you.

Love-in - a - mist does not dim my sight shadowy outlines would add to my plight surely your radiance will filter through to indulge in my love for you.

Passion flower of embracing desire leaves unfathomable depths of my soul afire searing my mind with love, so true burning with my longing for you.

Forget-me- not my love l plead be respondent to my amorous need see my lovelorn eyes dim and narrow beseeching cupid to fire his arrow.

Love- lies- bleeding will personify its past in a floral tragedy that will shatter my heart the scrarlet of ardour will turn deep deep blue if ever you reject my love for you.

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No 9 , FOR HELEN, by PETER DEAN.

Deep sea eyes, crystal blue look at me, l look at you.

Straw blonde hair, tied back at times flicking across your face so fine.

Open laughter smiles once in a while from your face (and)echoes for miles.

Your friendship is such a good thing with all the joys a good friend brings.

So miss crystal eyes shining blue just look at me and l at you.

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No 10. BEING MUM, by ROS HEWETT.

First and foremost-l'm a MOTHER, from their birth-forever more.

To love and care unselfishly that's what a mother's for.

My role is often changing not only am l mum for when they're sick and poorly a Nurse-l then become.

A book to read at bedtimes before l dimmed the light.

I read to make them sleepy a Storyteller-everynitht.

The school-years came so quickly a lot they had to learn a Teacher- is my next job and respect l had to earn.

I tried my best at meal-times healthy food they had to like a Chef is surely what l am.

So Jamie Oliver-on your bike as l watched them growing and encouraged all they've done.

A lot of trips l had to make a Taxi Driver-was no fun teenage years have come and gone

A good night's sleep-deprived a Counsellor-l was to be but still we have survived.

All grown-up-now adults and friends we have become of all the jobs-throughout the years.

The best one's Being MUM.

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No 11, TWO LITTLE LIMERICKS, by ANNE BROWN.

A stout sado-masochist from Sutton wore trouses that never would button.

To keep up his slacks he pushed in tin tacks for punishment he was a gutton.

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Apigeon that flew around Mepal landed one day on the steeple he burbled "ooh-oo" .

What a wonderful view from here l can ' spot ' lots of people.

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No 12, SPRING TIME by Elizabeth Gozney

There's a banner of green in the hedgerow now, there's a flicher of spring in the air.

There's a chatter of birds in the tree top bough, and the earth's waking up everywhere!

There's a smile in the sky, as a puffball cloud sails by on its platter of blue.

There's a promise of hope, in the green shoots proud, and there's spring in the first morning dew.

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No 13, MY DREAM ISLAND. by REG WENN, also known as WENN-THE PEN.

As l closed my eyes to shut out the light, there was not a soul to be seen, the water lapped around my feet and legs, this was like paradise from a dream.

Beautiful odours drifting thro' the air, the ebbing waters cover my toes, what a wonderful way to be far away, on an island that nobody knows.

Its all coming clear l have nothing to fear, there's not a cannibal in sight, there are dancing girls in skimpy grass skirts, 'Oh l do fancy her on the right.

I gave her a smile and she smiled back, her lips swayed with majestic ease, my pulse is racing and l'm in a sweat, she certainly knows how to tease.

I am sure the tide is coming in, the water's risen way above my thighs, 'Oh my God she's coming towards me', l must look longingly into her eyes.

I'll serenade her with that Aker Bilk number, The Stranger on the Shore', "You won't" said the wife, "Your bath's over-run, so now you can dry up the floor."

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No 14, THE DOG SHANDY AND THE ROBIN. by REG WENN, WENN THE PEN

Snowdrifts deep, so fresh, crip and white, it is wonderful to see, this seasonal sight, l sat by the window, just gazing around, snowflakes floated down, silent not a sound.

I then sensed a movement, what's this l spy, after turning to investigate, l just had to sigh, for there was a robin, his feathers puffed out, he looked rather hungery as he hopped about.

He made his way to our dog Shandy's dish, onto the side, thinking I'll have some of this, he then jumped in, yes right down inside, it was pleasing to see he was well satisfied.

Old Shandy was dosing, he wasn't disturbed, at the liberty taken by this petite little bird, Shandy opened one eye, his thoughts seem to say, you are lucky you caught me on a good day.

That night, as l prepared to get into bed, the thought of that robin entered my head, he's out there somewhere, all on his own-e-o, because Shandy didn't see him as a Bonio.

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No15, AN EVENING PRAYER, by REG WENN , WENN-THE-PEN.

Time is passing on, darkness falls, the world is still, slumber calls, it's almost time to go to bed, and on soft pillows rest my head.

I turn to GOD, with lights down low, he is my strenght, believe me l know, l thank him for his constant care, and all the good things that we share.

I thank him for his gift of prayer, that we can talk no matter where, and never do l pray in vain, l know he helps to ease my pain.

I ask that he will bless and keep, all the good people as they sleep, and as they rest within his care, they sleep sound knowing he is there.

So dear Lord l am now in bed, upon my hands l rest my head, l know you will always be a guide and coimforter to me.

The Lord is my shepheard, guiding me, ensuring my spirit is always free, as l sleep, for my soul he will give care, for that l thank him, in my evening prayer.

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No 16, EARTH WAS A BEAUTIFUL PLANET, by REG WENN. WENN-THE-PEN

Earth was a beautiful planet, until that eleventh day of September,when cowardly fanatic executioners, turned thousands of lives into an ember.

Good innocent people of this world, in prominent buildings of the United States, had their lives extinguished by Osama Bin Laden and his mates.

The ancient scriptues build us a picture of Christ's historic birth, and how God created for us all, the heavens and the earth.

They tell us of all the creatures, they were both great and small, and that the Lord in heaven above, was the maker of them all.

Thanks to God's creations, we see the birds and the bees, performing for us daily, in the flowers and the trees.

Seasons come and seasons go, nature's story doth unfold, a show of glowing colours, just like those scriptures told.

We learned that man sailed the seven seas, with great anticipation, to explore and later wage war, on many a different nation.

"Twas many many years ago, man spoke of 'Peace on Earth', but history has proven so many times, thay are words of little worth.

All the beautiful things on earth are God's gifts to his creatures, he created this once wonderful world; we should not change its features.

Sadly man made toxic waste, which flows into our rivers and seas, plus destroying the ozone layer, our good Lord this will not please.

The world was once a beautiful place, given to us by the Lord, then came the mass destruction, to disrupt our love and accord.

God intended this planet earth, to be a good place for all to dwell, these brutal terrorists must be stopped, for earth has become a living Hell.

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No 17, BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE. by EDDIE HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM

Born, Washed,Cuddled, and Greatly Loved, put to bed. A story told, or a well known song, sung, me to sleep.

Nappies changed, clothes all washed, ironed made like new. School days, off l went with all the other lads, l new. Now you be careful, Yer OK off l went.

Growing up, and out l went to Football matches, and Cinerma too, Now you be careful, Yer OK off l went.

To work l go on my bike just new, good breakfast, packed lunch, at times a choc biscuit one or two, now be careful, Yer OK off l went.

War comes, Army l go, where no one knows, now be careful, with tear in eye, now be careful, Yer OK off l went.

Home after years away, and in all one piece, there to greet me, tear in eye, straight in house, tea if kettles hot, and it's a cupper ide like, it's right here.

Marriage, wife, and children, a voice said; now you be careful, Yer OK off l went.

Years passed, and now she's gone, a mach-o-man that's me, l stop to think,

a kiss, a cuddle, and to say l love you mum, it's too late now, don't be like me, Say it now don't be me, Before it's too late like Me.

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No 18, MOMENTS, by TIM KEIRMAN.

In the darkness of my sorrows l cried to you, and in that moment you brought me joy but yet that joy did not bring me happiness.

In the moments of annoyance you did not reject me only offered an ear to listern and a warm heart.

But as other friendships had died we remained together in our moments of laughter we smiled together and our hearts we joined in a chorus of joy but those moments did not last for an eternity.

In our moments of love we clung together and the choirs of angels sang to our tune for our souls were as one and danced forever.

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No19 ,WELL TODAY A LIMERICK by MIKE ANTCLIFF.

There is a young scholar at King's who not only studies but sings.

He stands in the choir sings higher and higher, like a lark rising up on its wings.

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No 20, WHERE HAVE ALL THE YEARS GONE.by EDDIE HOLDEN.

The year 1950 two people in love and married, liveing with In- Laws was the thing of the day.

A converted tin Nissan hut of P.O.W. camp was offered, we said yes with glee, a home at last of our own wonders never cease .

First daughter arrives and on time, I'm a dad now and proud, then a new council house was offered all brand newe.

Now another daughter arrives that makes two now, one makes me up with curlers and lipstick, the other has me on the floor hands and knees, a horse l be.

Belt in mouth for reins daughter as jockey, go on dad up the hall again, till dead beat.

Growing up to youth club they go, dad is taxi to and thro, party's at our house

with friends, spin the bottle to make sure it stops at the boy to kiss.

Purchase land to build a home of our own, every spare hour to build it, finished in thirteen months we built our home.

Daughters now have boy friends, marriages come along and then grandchildren , they too are all grown up now,

They too have partners and wed, the year is 2006, and 56 years have past and now we just sit and reminisce and say we did our bit.

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No21, HAVE A LOVELY BIRTHDAY GRANDDAD, by EDDIE HOLDEN.

Birthdays come, Birthdays go, three score and ten long gone.

Come on granddad get a computer, what me at my age, yes why not.

Now a email, website too, just to put my own point of view.

Emails come, Emails go, another world l am in, letters l rarely wrote.

But emails l sent everyday, but my website cause a bit of a stir.

If it's truth l say, so truth it be, but they say that truth always hurt.

Why don't you just float on to my website,

See what you think, and you just might like what l say.

But then again you might not, but this birthday boy is surfing the world.

And l still sit in my chair, wonders never cease these days, you could do the same.

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NO 22, A LITTLE KINDNESS by Iris Hesselden

Someone listens, someone shares, someone hears, someone cares

Someone says a kindly word, and joy and hope are gently heard

Someone is in need of you, needs a cheerful line or two.

Be the one to light their day, sending happiness their way

Someone needs a friendly smile, just to make their day worthwhile

Show a little kindness too, and kindness will return to you.

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NO 23, MY GARDEN, by Georgia Jones. ELY.

Will anyone know l've been here, in many years from now?.

Will there be anything to show the things l did, and how.

I walked in the garden, tended the flowers, and loved the roses on the bowers?.

If sometimes l come back to visit, will someone suddenly sense my spirit.

And know that l was happy here, in the garden which l hold so dear?.

There's a secret place at the bottom, between the roses and fir trees.

Where l sit, all else forgotten in the sun, and feel the soft breeze.

If someone, in the years to come, is aware of a person they can't see.

Gently walking beside them in my garden, it might be me.

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NO24, NO SUCH THING AS FAILURE BY CYRIL HEAPS

Failure does'nt mean you are a failure. It does mean you haven't yet succeeded. Failure does'nt mean you should give up. It does mean you should try harder. Failure does'nt mean you will not make it. It does mean it will take a little longer.

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NO 25, THIS IS A POEM WRITTEN BY PLILLIP BENSON GRIFFITHS HIS BOTHER WAS KILLED AT IMPHAL. READ OUT FIRST TIME ARMISTICE 2004

To a fallen soldier.

Young soldier from the west mortally wounded laid to rest.

Some Mother's boy, some Father's son.

Tired and hungry, cold and wet faced bullet, shell, disease and bayonet!.

Far from home he shed his blood now he is buried in Imphal mud

Never again to laugh or jest, they miss him most who loved him best, "ADIEU"

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NO 26. WATCHING THE BIRDS, by HILARY ALBERTS, FORDHAM.

Rooks the rooks are everywhere rushing here, dashing there

Building up their nests so high I love to watch them gliding by.

A robin came to supervise my gardening work, with little cries of; can you find a worm for me?

I'd love to have one for my tea, the blue tit's come, you know it's spring especially when he starts to sing.

Hopping around from bough to bough you can't help feeling happy now!

When I went out the other day a handsome blackbird looked my way head on one side, he started chirping but I just had to keep on working.

The little wren looks oh so sweet when she lands upon your garden seat .

Don't make a move or she'll be gone, she never stays around for long.

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NO 27,DAWN CHORUS AT WANDLEBURY,by KATHLEEN HARVEY,WATERBEACH

Hail to thee blythe spirits! but quietly so, who meet before dawn to hear a wonder in woods all dark where owls swoop low and ducks are sleeping yonder.

No one speaks but lowly in a whisper" listening, listening, now it's beginning,

And with the cold before sunrise the whole wide world is singing.

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NO 28, THE SEASIDE, by Georgia Jones. Cambridge road ELY.

There's a place where children love to play, called Hunstanton-by-the-Sea.

We often went there for the day, Mum,Dad,my Sister, and Me.

When the train neared we'd all look out, then suddenly there'd be a shout, "I saw it first""No it was me"I was the first to see the sea.

With buchet and spade held tight in hands,we'd scamper down the golden sands.

Where we'd build castles tall and fine, "your castle's not as good as mine.

Then Mum would call "Come on lets eat",and we'd rush up the beach pebbles hurting our feet.

Those were the day's happy and carefree, a regular pleasure for Mum and Dad and "we three.

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NO 29, THIS IS AN ODD ODE, ABOUT OUR HEALTH CENTRE.by E,C, HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

A VISIT TO THE HEALTH CENTRE.

To visit our health centre can be a bit of a laugh.

To post your monthly prescriptions in the hole in the wall.

You have to wait a week to collect,and you stand at the hatch,and next you hear, "name" that's Carol on the war path.

You reply in a shaky voice, minutes later it's a paper bag , that appears.

Sign here and there comes a stern voice, before you have gathered it up "next".

Next thing to make an appointment to see your Doctor, now there's a laugh.

Now the receptionist says, well you can see him or her, in a month come next Friday.

You on the out side, thinks I COULD BE DEAD by then, anyway you take a chance, and have a laugh.

After you have seen your Sawbones, he or she says make an appointment to the nurse,"why" she will take some blood, I gave 5 lots 3 months ago, never mind we want some more, "WHATS" going on here, do our Doctors employ vampire nurses, and this is a cheap way to feed them, that would be a laugh.

Now you are sitting there to wait your turn, in come the Doctors one at a time, they just walk straight past you, without a smile or a nod, me I'm a feeling that they got out the bed the wrong side today.

I sit and look I feel better already, I am sure they feel worse than me, the only one that I see smile is Dr Bass Shangri-la as I call him, he's always game for a laugh.

Now sitting there waiting your turn, the tannoy comes to life, and you can tell what mode the Doctors in by what is said, if he's in a good mode, would Mrs Bush come to the surgery, please, but if he's in a bad mode, it's Next Bush.

Now over the years, our Dear Doctors have got signs of wear and tear, some have nearly lost their hair, some are greying, others have got a little rounder, and some walk a little slower, and also glasses appear.

So when we go to the surgery the first thing they say, on the scales, and then it comes, "you are over weight", and then you look at him and think, who's calling the kettle black, and how are we to get weight off, when the reception sells packets of chocolates, thats a laugh, for Mac Millans nurses fund.

Now joking all apart we the public, we owe a lot to you all at our Surgery, and Health Centre.

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NO 30, WORDS FOR THOUGHT. by Georgia Jones, ELY.

We're born into this world, and our journey begins past milestones, through traumas, losses and wins.

As we're tossed on life's waves, from one year to another, do we give enough thought and time to each other.

For all too soon a life can end without any warning, no time to defend ourselves from the shock when we are alone.

So try to appreciate your present state, make the most of your lot, before it's too late.

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NO 31, APRIL, by Eirian Bennet Jones. Little Ouse, ELY.

The apple trees are frothy with blossoms pink and white.

Beside them flourish tulips their hue a wondrous sight.

The turtle doves are crooning grey squirrels awake.

White swans are gliding softly with cygnets on the lake.

The swallows skim the river their mud nests now complete.

The fields are green and fertile with spike of growing wheat.

Long catkins dangle gently beneath the hazel tree.

Young lambs are skipping wildly delighted to be free.

The air is sweet and balmy soft sunshine makes it warm.

Beware if clouds are forming there'll be a sudden storm.

Adieu to frosty weather farewell to winter cold.

We welcome thee fair April with daffodils of gold.

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NO 32, THE BADGER, by Mason-Wright.Abington.

When badger takes his evening stroll, the sunset bathes the trees in golden glow.

With shuffiing gait and body roll, he sniffs the spore of rabbit doe.

Dead leaves crack beneath his weight, he roots the ground for worms.

Then slithers 'neath the farmer's gate, while captured meal still squirms.

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NO 33,THIS IS A LIMERICK, by Eirian Bennet Jones,Lt Ouse, Ely.

Now England have lost - oh what pain, it's worse than being drenched in the rain.

No shoot-out to watch, No nail-biting match.

No Beckham, or Owen, or Wayne!.

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NO 34, GROWING CONCERN, by Georgia Jones, Cambridge Road, ELY

Oh, what delightful beauty in the early sun, as I walk to the bottom of the garden.

Past each delicate flower, and each leafy tree, all saying "thank you" for the water you gave me.

The feeling, and the sight, were maqical, I felt the garden knew I was there, loving it all, it breathed.

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NO 35, BOOKSHELF, by Phillip Mason-Wright. Great Abington.

Open a musty book and read the tale it tells,a flower, crushed beteen the leaves, of pink Dogrose still smells

The auther and the owner doubtless long since, breathed their last.

To each the other gave fulfilment, and to the present, show the past.

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no 36, WORN OUT, by EDDIE LAWRENCE, LICHFIELD ROAD, CAMBRIDGE

My get up and go just got up and went is it because of the 84 year's I've spent.

In the 1920's the pace was slow, but these days everything is go go go.

I look around and I can see, many folk, far worse off than me, so to them all, I wish all the best.

Keep soldiering on, like all the rest, over many years, I've found out it does no good to rave and stout.

But! if I count my blessings one by one I'm more than grateful at how well I've done.

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NO 37, JULY1916, BATTLE OF THE SOMME. by Eirian Bennet Jones. Little Ouse Ely.

Four score long years and ten, have passed since that horrendous day.

When Britain's youth was massacred and thus reduced to clay.

When "call to arms " came the three friends young Harry, Dick,and Tom.

Enlisted in the Suffolk Regt, and went to the Somme.

Wave after wave went "o'er the top" wave after wave mown down.

But Harry Dick and Tom went on, the friends from Ipswich Town.

The shellsa flew past but on they pressed the German lines to gain.

Men fell like flies around their feet, and others screamed with pain.

First Dick was hit , then Harry too, and last of all young Tom.

The three East Anglian friends so brave, lay dead beside the Somme.

What courage and what sacrifice that day upon Somme.

When twenty thousand men were slain with Harry, Dick, and Tom !.

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NO 38, CREAM TEA CRUISE, by Barbara Stokes, Cambridge,

I went on a cream tea cruise along the River Cam, we had tea and scones with lots of strawberry jam.

It was organised by the City Council for pensioners in the area, they sat and chatted with friends on the Riverboat Georgina

Swans floated majestically, trees gave us shade from on high, drinkers waved from Pub gardens, as we floated by.

The sun shone down from a clear blue sky, and a gentle breeze rustled the reeds nearby.

We cruised the four miles to Bates Bite Lock and we got back on time at five o'clock.

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NO 39, DROUGHT - WHAT DROUGHT, by BARBARA STOKES. Cherry Hinton

Summer clothes are waiting to be worn, when I get up on a summer morn.

I give a shiver and smile with mirth, they say global warming is threatening the earth.

I look through the window and watch the rain, trace the drops running down the pain.

The summer's here and it's raining again, I can see it splashing in the lane.

The scientists tell us theres is a drought, the papers leave us in no doubt.

I lookat the rain and want to shout, what on earth's it all about?.

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NO 40, NIGHT, bY NATASHA BURTON, AGE 10 YEARS,

Dusk descends as the lamps turn on, we're preparing to get dark.

The birds start to round off their song, a bluetit, a jay, and a lark.

Flowers close to get ready for bed, and the moonbeams get brighter and brighter.

I close my fingers around my Ted, he seems to get lighter and lighter.

Blanket of night sweeps across the earth, and pinpricks of stars shine a light in the gloom.

As moonbeams soar and surf the shadows flicker and zoom.

The world is full of dreaming people cosy in their beds,

Quiet up to the highest church steeple , everyone rest their heads. (Goodnight) Comments, from Me, who ever you are keep writing and keep up the good work, Eddie Holden.

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NO 41, ASTRIA, by GEORGIA JONES, ELY.

Oh to be in the mountains, now that summer's here, the woody smell of the fir trees and the air so crystal clear.

There's a secret in the mountains, and each individual peak has a character of its own, though some can look quite bleak.

But all are very beautiful, reaching towards the sky, some look like profiles of people long gone by,

You could reside in the mountains, you wouldn't need a lease, you'd learn the art of relaxation, in incredible peace.

I was up with the birds today, we shared an hour or two appreciating the early air, and I admire the view.

As we trip o'er rise and dip with sights to feast your eyes, I feel yet another nip,- I'll kill those blasted flies.

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NO42, REDUNDANT CHURCH, by Eirian Bennet Jones,Little Ouse,ELY

The old church stands deserted, neglected and alone, while tangled undergrowth surronds its ivy covered stone.

Its doors and windows gaping,its oak pews, bells and clock are all long gone to auction rooms or antique dealers stock.

This church, now haunt of badgers and foxes, owls and mice, was once the hamlet's focal point its bastion against vice.

But times change, and religion has lost its old appeal while folk today are more obseessed with turn of fortunes wheel.

How sad to see it empty decaying and forlorn its stained glass windows shattered now a hayfield as its lawn.

Do ponder, church officials, when with a church you part, for once a hamlet's lost its church its also lost its heart.

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NO 43 , CLAUSTROPHOBIA, by Mrs Joyce M Jones. Cambridge.

No-one understands claustrophobia except those who suffer its curse, and the world's uncaring attitude just makes all us "crazy" folk worse.

I can travel in a coach or a railway carriage,even when lots of people are on board, the moment of truth is when they all stand up."I can't see the way out, where's the door".

My heart beats impossibly faster, cold perspiration bedews my brow, a black menace is crawling around me,I have to get out of here-Now!.

I f you push and shove just a little, people complain and deliberately block your way,they don't realise you could tear them to pieces, and if they don't move you probably may.

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NO 44,HATCH /MATCH /DISPATCH. bY Mrs JM Jones, Kinross road, cambridge.

When I was young it the Match list I studied in the paper all the time, "maybe i'll get to be bridesmaid.

I would surjest to" my partners in crime", a few years on and it's the Hatch list, who's been producing another offspring?.

Might get invited to the christening, means buying a silver teething ring!.

When long years have passed it's the dispatch list,that everyday catches my eye,

Have any of my friends or acquaintances chosen this moment to die?, I've studied the evening paper as a pupil student wife.

It'll figure my last appearance on the stage that we call life!.

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NO 45, FLANDERS FIELDS,by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae 1915

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow between the crosses row on row.

That mark our place; and in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly scarce heard amid the guns below

We are the dead, short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe, to you from failing hands we thow.

The torch; be your's to hold it high if ye break faith with us who die.

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.

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NO 46 , THREE SCORE AND TEN AND TEN. by Eddie Holden , Little Downham.

There's something wrong with me, my knee's crack, my hip's stiff, and heads in a swim.

I talk with a wheeze tone, I doze as soon as I sit, and at night it's to the toilet well spent.

I get up in the morning, but my get up and go , have got up and went.

But I get up and smile as I remember where the lovely places my get up has went.

Old age is wonderful they say, but I wonder, when your eye's on the table, your teeth in a cup.

Your ear's in a box, and I hope they are all there when I wake up.

I used to kick my slippers over my head, but now I just shuffle and they stay right beside the bed.

I go the shop I puff all the way there, and cough all the way back, I read the news paper.

I scan to the obits, if my name is missing, I know I'm not dead, so I have good meal.

Then sit back and say, well I am three score and ten and ten.

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NO 47, AUTUMN, by Elrian Bennet Jones, Little Ouse Ely.

Red berries on the hawthorn, nuts on the hazel tree.

Ripe apples in the orchard, and wasps in ecstasy.

Young swallows on the cables, fields harvested of corn.

School children back at lessons, with faces quite forlorn.

Bright colours in the woodland, leaves orange, rust, and red.

Black sloes, along the hedgerows, and toadstools where you tread.

Flocks of excited starlings, wheel madly back and forth.

First swans arrive in Welney, from Russia's frozen north.

Chrysanths bloom in the garden, late roses flourish too.

And multicoloured dahlias, the best of autumns hue.

But frost encrusted cobwebs, warn us that come what may.

Though loath to part with autumn, cold winter's on it's way.

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NO 48 , A THOUGHT FOR TODAY, Margaret Hobbs, Caldecote.

A dull and dreary morning no pleasures, plan to see.

A little bird sat in a tree and sang a song, to me.

Was it robin, wren, or thrush who trilled so merrily?.

However simple bird song lifts hearts you must agree?..

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NO 49 , TREES, by Sara Coleridge, This poem verse was forgotten now found again.

The Oak is called the King of trees

The Aspen quivers in the Breeze

The Poplar grows up straight and tall.

The Peach tree spreads along the wall.

The Sycamore gives pleasant shade.

The Willow droops in watery glade.

The Fir tree useful timber gives.

The Beach amid the forest lives.

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NO 50, AUTUMN MORNING, by KATHLEEN GILLUM.

Autmn makes her presents felt, in colours bright and gold.

And on nature's canvas splashes, amber, russet, gold.

Just like a rustic tapestry, spread out across the land.

She paints her pastoral masterpiece, untouched by earthly hand

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NO 51, ROBIN'S SONG by Rodey Bennett.

Robins sang in England, frost or rain or snow. All the long December days endless years ago.

Robins sang in England before the legions came. Before our English fields were tilled, or England was a name.

Robins sang in England when forests dark and wild. Stretched across from sea to sea, and jeasus was a chld.

Listern ! in the frosty dawn , from his leafless bough . The same brave song he ever sang, a robin's singing now.

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NO 52, THE CHRISTMAS CAKE, by ANON,

For fifty weeks l've languished upon the cupboard shelf. Forgotten and uncared for l've muttered to myself. But now the year is closing and christmastime is here. They dust me down and tell me to show a little cheer. Between the plaster snowman and little glassy lake. They stand me in the middle of some ice covered cake. And for a while theres laughter but as the week wears on. They cut up all the landscape till every scrap is gone, Then with the plaster snowman and little lake of glass. I'm banished to the cupboard for one more year to pass.

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NO 53, WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND? by Christina Rossetti.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you.

But when the leaves hang trembling.

The wind is passing thro; .

Who has seen the wind?.

Neither you nor I ;

But when the trees bow down their heads

The wind is passing by.

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NO 54 ,POETRY COME PRAYER, by Iris Hesselden.

The shepherds heard the angel's news, the wise men travelled far.

And there was wonder, joy, and hope for all who saw the star.

Now, father, once more help us seek the joy of Christmas night.

And spread the news across the earth, of endless life and light.

And father, may we share your love in heart and soul and mind.

And send your blessings round the world with peace for all mankind.

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NO 55, WINTER, by EIRIAN BENNETT JONES, LITTLE OUSE, ELY,

Short are the hours of daylight, long is the cold winter night

Bitter the wind from Siberia, silent the wild swans long flight.

Dark are the skies up above us, drab are the grey clouds below.

Brown are the straight winter furrows, slate-grey the river's swift flow.

White are the hard-frozen meadows,Icy the ponds and the lake.

Mournful the cry of the curlew, lonely the path of the drake.

Eerie the fog on the marshes, wraith-like the mist from the drain.

Sharp are the hail stones that spatter, black is the mud in the lane.

Bleak are the cold days of winter, dismal the outlook each day.

Would I might sleep for a season, till springtime is here to stay!,.

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NO 56, NANA ,by MRS VICKI STEARMAN BROSNAN,( MY GRANDDAUGHTER.)

A birthday is time to celebrate a special someones life, in your case you are my NANA and Red Devils loving wife.

You may be getting older but you'll be pleased to know ,you're still seen by me as superwoman and that'll never go.

I thank you for the time you spent teaching me new ways ,and remember all the fun I had on those summer days.

Clopping around on your verander, heels and cowboy hat ,admiring the people you helped and your creation for C.A,T .

You turn your hand to everything ,cooking ,flowers, and stitch, maybe I wasn't wrong , you might well be a witch .

Only someone with magic powers could make cream horns so yummy, and with patience and love give me such a special mummy.

It's hard sometimes to thank you enough for everything you do , I hope these words here are enough for everything you do , I hope these words here are enough -NANA , I love you .

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NO 57. THIS WONDERFUL WORLD , by EDDIE HOLDEN , LITTLEDOWNHAM'

Just sit ,and rest ,then think, it's best, who made this wonderful world,?.

We on earth will never know ,most people call him GOD ,but will we ever know,?.

Who created all this life on earth, who created all the mountains and valleys,?.

Who created the poles ,north and south, and created the seasons so life can exist,?.

Who created climate changes beyond our control and shatters lives to start again,?.

Who destroys and rebuilds this planet beyond our knowlege this greater being,?.

There must be a greater being ,so for now we will call him "GOD" - for now ,?.

Know as human beings ,we admire this wonderful planet, but will we ever know,?.

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NO 58. THE BRUSSELS BUREAUCRATES , by EDDIE HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM, ELY.

Brussels said Metric you will go , not us said the English stiff upper lips.

Brussels said Kilos you will weigh, not us said the English stiff upper lips.

Brussels said Kilometres you will travel , not us said the English stiff upper lips.

BVrussels said fines will be imposed if you don't , get stuffed said the stiff upper lips,

Now after years of haggling , brussels relent, and millions spent.

Brussels said you can keep you ,pounds and ounces, feet and inches, and your miles per hour, plus gallons and milk sold in pints, ,

At last England is England again , back to normal ,thanks to the stiff upper lips.

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NO , 59, ST LEONARD'S IN THE ISLE, by EDDIE HOLDEN,, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY

In 1659, bells rang out to call people to prayer, and were heard far and wide.

From time to time of the first bell ,the bell ringers have come and bell ringers gone .

They ring in the new life, and ring out the old life , ring new family's to start.

But ring old family's to depart, and ring praises a year gone by and new to start.

Now David has rung these bells , in snow , rain ,and sunshine, with a smile for fifty years,

A helper has now come to the fore , Ethel has stepped in in as relief, ringer,to the bells.

Now may the bells of ST Leonard's ring for centuries to come as they have in centuries past.

Calling people to come to Church for prayer, sadness, and happiness,

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NO 60 , THE FINAL INSPECTION , by ANON, but rephrased by EDDIE HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

The Para man stood and faced his GOD , which must always come to pass , he hoped his shoes were shinning brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now , you Para Man , how shall I deal with you ,?, have you always turned the other cheek ,?,, To my Church have you been true,?,,

The Para squared his shoulders and said ," no LORD, I guess I haven't , because those of us who shoot the guns ,can not always be a Saint.

But I never took a penny ,that wasn't mine to keep,, though I worked a lot of overtime , when the bills got just too steep,

And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear, and sometimes GOD forgive me ,Ive wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place ,among the people here, they never wanted me around , except to calm their fears.

If youve a place for me here, LORD it needn't be grand I never expected or had too much but if you don't I'LL understand.

There was a silence all around the throne , where the Saint had often trod, as the Para man waited quietly , for the judgment of his GOD

"STEP forward now , you PARA MAN,youve borne your burdens well , walk peacefully on Heaven's streets , youv'e done your time in HELL"

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NO 61,, VETERAN'S FREEDOM , PRESENTED BY , EDDIE HOLDEN. LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

It's the Veteran not the reporter who has given us the freedom of the press.

It's the Veteran not the poet , who has given us the freedom of speech.

I t's the Veteran , not the politicians that ensures our right to life , liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

It's the Veteran , who salutes the Flag ,who serves beneath the FLAG and whose coffin is draped by the FLAG.

If you care to offer the smallest token of recognition appreciation for the Military.

And pray for those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for FREEDOM.

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NO, 62, CHRISTMAS 2007, by EDDIE HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

Another Christmas and another year gone by , but some yuletides' are better than others, and 2007 was full of surprises.

This yuletide is little bit more special than some of the past, our granddaughter , said look at this , scan of her at three months.

Well wonders never seize, we are going to be great grandparents , no don't tell us what it's going to be ,boy or girl , due in June,

After treatment of I.V.F. she finally made it well everyone over the moon, and it's all baby talk from now on.

Grandson in Canada announced coming home for Christmas , with his lovely Canadian girl friend haven't seen for a year,

This will be great , a big get together was planned, Nan said ill pay, so a restaurant was chosen and words "be there"..

The law has spoken but after a sit down family meal , we all retired to Granddaughters for coffee,and sit and chat..

Now everyone trying to speak at once , well grandson and girl friend gave all a card ,everyone thought just another Christmas card..

Well on opening to see the card ,well what surpise for one and all ,another scan, yes another baby due in June , for a minute not a word.

Well then there's tears, laughter, and what a surprise ,yes great grandparents twice now .and about two days apart ,wonders never seize.

What a Christmas for 2007 ,that was the YULETIDE icing on the Christmas cake ,and now it's all baby talk ,from now on ,and as great grandparents thoughts of our younger days ,and how we looked at the future for our children.

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NO 63. OUR 58TH ANNIVERSARY, by EDDIE HOLDEN,, LTTLEDOWNHAM, ELY

Anniversary's come and Anniversary's go , it's 58 years now threw thick and thin, since we walked down the Aisle.

The things we have done together making babies, building houses, to our taste.

Yes we have our up's and down's but in the end love breaks through.

We have had sad times, lean times, good times, most of all happy times.

We have travelled to countries far and wide, and tasted exotic foods of mouth watering taste.

But now we get emails and phone calls from the grandchildren Hi granddad, are you OK ,and NANA , have you cooked any cakes latterly I've run out ..

All grown up now and cheeky too they are all too big to Ding their ears now.

Looking back on 58 years , I think we have done our bit for this lovely world.

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NO 64, MARY'S FLANNELETTE NIGHTY,, by EDDIE HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY

Married off on Honeymoon and yes the nighty came too.

Never goes anywhere without her flannel nighty, an old fashion girl is she and lovely with it just the same.

Mary's bed time seen is such a ritual ,everything off then on with the nighty.

What ever the seasons be it summer or winter the seen the same .

But sometimes I am first in bed,I take the nighty, and for a laugh ,I tie the darn thing in knots instead, in comes Mary cloths off , and starker's to find.

Her nighty's all knotted there, I suppose you think that funny as she begins to swear, I'LL kill you , the words come to my ear,you wait my lad.

It's banished to the other bedroom she declares, standing there,in the cold night air.

Years have past but the old flannelette nighty is still there, the knots I still do the same and Mary's still threatening me and swearing just the same.

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NO 65, PALESTINE,, BY EDDIE HOLDEN, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

From Jungle ,to Desert in 1946, ,to the Holy Land I was posted.

My fiest assignment was from , Jerusalem to Aquaba I was sent.

Through the Sinai I go , Bedouin Tribesmen I did encounter.

Search for arms none found , these friendly nomads say stop for tea.

We were in for a big surprise; their teapot was full of Gin you see.

On leaving their campment, we see two of everything, till we sleep it off.

On travelling back to base, Petra, the rock city comes in view.

A spot of sight seeing we did do , it's a place of wonderment for the eye.

Back to base and off again a walk this time from Nazareth to Bethlehem.

It's 80 miles of rough terrain , Joseph and Mary did this in BC 4, we are told.

We walk the very same route we are told to search all wells for illegal arms again.

But before on this journey , a letter posted back home to a girl I sent.

Return to base once more a letter waiting ,from a different girl that my letter went.

So a regular exchange of letters, have been written, to a girl back home in Great Britain.

Back home to blighty I am posted ,and a well earned leave, also meet the girl I've written.

Now to meet the girl the letters I sent , the first encounter was well received.

Now 56 years together, my letters well sent , and of the girl the letters, she sent.

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NO, 66. MY COUNTRY GARDEN,, by EDDIE HOLDEN,, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

It's my country garden just for me to cheerish as I wish , my plants are set in a higgledy-piggledy manner, a bush here and plant over there, and a few lily's by the fence ,and robin red breast sing's it's mine too.

Regimentation I don't like ,why you ask ,because nothing grows naturally like that , a few snowdrops over there and some daffs as well , with crocuses by the path, and variegated ivy climbing up the wall.

There's a evergreen shrub just near the linen post, and a lavender bush near by, two fish ponds joined by a channel, gold fish make a daily run, from one to other, ot's like a race track ,who gets there first.

The waterfalls makes a splashing sound , and frogs come to lay their sporn, then tadpoles emerge, later on when summer is high, a green ,and yellow grass snake makes a visit ,seeing what's for dinner no doubt.

I once had a little black fury friend who made little hills of earth, but he's gone , but prickles still comes to visit at night making chomping noises eating worms he also helps to keep my slugs at bay, and lady bird's by day keeping green fly at bay.

Bird's come and wash in the ponds, some come to eat seed, others like scraps of cheese and bread, and as I sit in my garden retreat and watch nature thrive, I say to myself ,as I sit and doze "thats" MY COUNTRY GARDEN.

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NO , 67, MEN THAT FELL FROM THE SKY, by EDDIE HOLDEN ,, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

We were brothers, mates, and oppoohs, together as one.

We shared a beer , a tea, or coffee, at the N.A.A.F.I. tent.

Weshared our last pennies together for a tea and a wad at the Sally Army.

They taught us how to take asunder our weapons and re-assemble blind fold.

They taught us how to use the Stleletto in close encounter we all became men of one mind.

They also taught us how to be compassionate in natural world's tragedies.

What men are these you say that fall from the sky.

Why they are men of the elite regiment, THE PARACHUTE REGIMENT,, , of cause.

But now our brothers, mates, and opoohs, they lie in foreign lands, who fought for freedom.

So that others can live in peace and without fear and become parents and grandparents.

As the words from General Montgomery's Epitaph to these men of the Red Beret, .

These are firstly all volenteers they are men apart and everyone an Emperor.

These men that fell from the sky's in Foreign lands will be remembered on Armistice Day .

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NO, 68,. ME AND MY COMPUTER,by EDDIE HOLDEN,, LITTLEDOWNHAM ELY.

Me and my computer at the age of htree score and ten and ten , you can do it granddad, with a little help from us as curser flies around,

Well a computer is quite a challege, to say the least , you do it like this granddad as the things fly in to place ,

So in the chair I sit ,now it's one click on that Icon, and two clicks to that one, see how easy it is granddad, right lets see how it goes, then things went haywire ,what's gone wrong , wrong button pressed,,

Well I see how it goes , now a letter, and click spell checker, yes it's OK it's Yankee style, all correct, except for , (center, ) centre, so what the heck.

If a word is wrong ,just delete and type again, now it's on the internet, I go with email letters, no more sending letters by post this is easy, and a return straight away, maybe..

So now the family is posted with emails, but now granddad we are giving you a WEBSITE ,and you can put on it what you like and say what you like ,your own point of view, now I can tell the world what I think, and the truth as it should be ..

I now have boxes for all sorts of things, history ,useless information, poetry, and my life story , plus true stories, for people to click on too and have a laugh or to learn as well.

It's only my point of view ,then I get an email saying you can't say that, well I have and I did so what, it's only my point of view , the religous section gets them going, to them the bible is the truth, but the stories have been stretched a bit , but it's hard to tell that to the ,, deep religous sect,, they will not listen..

This is another string to my bow, and who would have thought at my age another world has opened up ,I can travel around the world, and see cars in peoples drives ways, and to other countries to see the changes they have made..

I travel to the Smoky mountains ,and to the Rocky's of Canada, I also surf on to other peoples websites to see what they have to say about the world ..

Well if you are a pensioner like me ,give it a try, and maybe you too will become a computer freak like me , it's another world to the likes of us when are passed three score and ten and ten ..

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NO, 69,

NO 105. MECHANICAL SID, BY ALISON ARNOLD.

His coat of armour it once did gleam, alas it's lost it's sheen

He stood so straight and proud did he, but now he stands all bent at the knee.

He ran so smoothquiet and fast , unfortunately now it's a cough and a blast.

He keeps on going fighting with zest ,knowing that his past his best.

How much longer can he last ,until he gives us , one final gasp.

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BUTTERFLY BUTTERFLY, BY ALISON ARNOLD,

Butterfly , butterfly, so enchanting and dear, your marks and colours are so brilliantly clear.

From flower to flower you flutter and dance, with precision that's not taken by chance.

Chasing the nectar to sustain your thirst, repeating each ritual as thow it your first.

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NO 106.