18th September 2025 • The HERALD • Page 81 v INDEPENDENT, LOCAL AND PROUD v Poets Corner Through The Door Into The Sea by FDE Cater© Here lies a poet. Floating at sea. Away from his writing, his family, his swelling despair. Here lies a poet. On a lifeboat at sea, Stroking the waves of this wanderlust ocean. at trickles with silver streaks. Here lies a poet. Whose confusion is bare, Whose black eyes are tainted back with dreams, Dreams that were gone. Dreams that were purgatory since it all changed. Here lies a poet. Escaping at sea. How he got here, how he discovered this world From the gateway of the white line, he will never know. Would you believe him if he told you? Here lies a poet. Not lost at sea. But free. And he sails. He raises his ag, and he soars into the enchanting waters Of what lies ahead. His journey to nd himself. We’re the envy of many Which we jealously guard We’re the same and yet different To separate is hard The Forest and Waterside Runs through our veins Like brothers and sisters Each sharing the strain A diverse community On a pocket of land Coast and countryside As one hand in hand Lives independent Whilst not far apart Each working together Like a scene of pure art Industry beckons The countryside calls Fine beaches all around us Snow seldom falls We live with the seasons Summer winter and fall Yet there’s magic in springtime Which we love best of all Many join us few leave us Most move here to stay It takes more than magic To temp us away We want for so little Most needs are around In this corner of Hampshire There is gold to be found With sunshine on green fields Or shade under trees White horses on water Or a light summer breeze Ships on the Solent Wild deer on the land This corner of England Holds our hearts in its hand The Forest and Waterside Runs through our veins We’re the envy of many Each sharing the strain. I was gonna do gardening today But the heat made me think “ ere’s no way!” My decision was quick As the ground’s like a brick It can wait ‘til tomorrow - HOORAY! So I’ll use my recliner instead It’s quite comfy, a bit like a bed Soak up sun to the max’ Get a tan and relax Better check that it’s still in the shed Found it rusty and hard to unfold It is well past its best - truth be told Hugely battered and worn And the canvas is torn It’ll do - I’m ignoring the mould Next, some suncream, I think, would be wise A high ‘factor’ the experts advise As my skin is so fair Slap it here, slap it there I’ll go mad if it gets in my eyes! Now I’m set for an hour or so When red patches will suddenly show Let me say in advance at there’s more than a chance at, tomorrow, my body will ‘glow’ I could ‘down’ a cold drink, now, with ease I’ll ask ‘wifey’, I’ll say “Pretty please” She can add cubes of ice But today would be nice As my tongue’s hanging down to my knees Next door’s barbie’s been lit, I can tell Can’t escape that magni cent smell Burgers, sausages, steaks Sweet aroma it makes And it’s putting my nostrils through Hell! Turned to ‘wifey’ and asked “What’s to eat?” She said “Salad - I’m not cooking meat, as it’s too hot for food” I’ll avoid being rude What I said, next, I shouldn’t repeat! I hear ‘tinkling’ of bells in the air ere’s an ice cream van somewhere, but where? Must be near, in our zone What I’d give for a cone And a ‘ ake’ - if he’s got one to spare Can’t believe it - we sit there aghast Because ‘dirty’ grey clouds have amassed Shortly a er - it pours So we trundle indoors Who’d have thought that the sun wouldn’t last?!!! It was good for a while, nonetheless Barbie would have been nice, I’ll confess But I won’t cause a fuss Cos there’s one major ‘plus’ As I don’t have to clear up a mess!!!! Corner of England by David K Wilson© ‘PHEW’ by Mike ‘Where’s my drink?’ Bennett© THE WISH by Neil Hotson© I don’t know if I’ll see him again Maybe at the end, I’ll see him then Don’t kid yourself, to the grave you go He doesn’t understand that I love him so One last talk about days gone by One last look, at those eyes even dry So did it matter the touch of a lover e sacri ce for him, to have another I’m weary now, my body is broken I wish, I wish, the door would open DON’T LET THE BED BUGS BITE by Marlene Parmenter© It had six eyes and three ears, One stuck upon its head, But it did seem o’ so friendly As it climbed into my bed. His lips curled up into his nose, His tongue wiggled all about. Then he stuck it in his top ear And merrily cleaned it out. He gave me a saucy smile, As he observed me with his six eyes. Then stuffed the pillow in me mouth To muffle me earthly cries. I was held by fifty furry fingers, Which secured me real tight. I could hear his tubby tummy tumble, Was I to satisfy his appetite? Slowly he released his hold, And sat and picked the wart upon his knee. Then in a meek and mild voice, He said, “I’d love a cup of tea.” Poem from Lottie the Toy Pony by June Arthur© Grandma has had me out in the sun. She says it’s too hot to go for a run. Such a shame as I was game, A run on the beach, that was my aim. If she was a pony she would feel the same So here I am, back in my pen Another day resting till who knows when. The copyright of all poems that are published in The Herald belong to the author and must NOT be reproduced without their permission Send your poems to us at 2 High Street, Hythe, Southampton SO45 6AH or email: editor@herald-publishing.co.uk
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