Readers’ poetry from the Bury Free Press of Friday, September 13

Readers' poetry
Readers' poetry
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This week’s poem, by Graham F Linney, is called Momentary Glance.

My eyes delight at the August scene,

of cereals gold and flora green.

Horizon’s tree line hazy blue,

that fades into a mauve grey hue.

Tall grasses wave in a warm August breeze,

as momentary glances of life I freeze.

Cumulus cherubs play chase on cyan,

while the gold in childhood memories I pan.

Like cooling swims in the river when hot,

quite nude little caring if seen or not.

On a swaying rope hanging from high sturdy bough,

I’d swing back and forth to the canopy sough.

Those first attempts at riding a bike,

falling off’s something I didn’t like.

Cuts and grazes when hitting the ground,

hurt lessened greatly once balance was found.

Peddling to school now cycling’s more natural,

slung over shoulder a worn leather satchel.

A question arises needing little reflection,

The choice of facing the other direction.

In a classroom corner too many times stood ,

not contemplating the things that I should.

Punishing cane stripes on palms that burned,

for rules in mathematics not thoroughly learned.

Hot July days my thoughts could not dwell,

on learning maths tables or long words to spell.

Impatiently waiting for lessons to end,

just dreaming of how that evening I’d spend.

School summer holidays of six weeks or so,

some days to the seaside by bus we would go.

Not having lessons was the best thing of all,

plus playing with friends at a game of football.

In harvest fields playing, midst straw bailed with string,

Angry nettles waiting for children’s legs to sting.

Or going with a jam jar catching gudgeon fry up stream,

then laze on the river bank ,with friends counting bream.

Silvery shoals of infants,swim as one from side to side.

like drifting clouds above them in unison they glide.

Many things remembered when the atmosphere is right,

but memories oft resemble free butterflies in flight.

August days in sunshine too soon came to an ending.

did it really never rain or just in child’s pretending?

September evenings drawing in means earlier to bed.

but firstly searching book shelves for stories oft times read.