Herald - Issue 397

v THE NEXT HERALD IS OUT ON 19TH NOVEMBER v 29th October 2020 • The HERALD • Page 69 PART TIME SCHOOL RUN DRIVERS REQUIRED We are currently looking for new drivers to fill rewarding, part time roles in our busy, family run business. We specialise in transporting disabled and vulnerable children and young adults with a range of special needs to school’s across Hampshire. All applicants must be physically fit, 100% reliable and punctual with a pleasant attitude towards others. A New Forest District Council Private Hire License would be an advantage, however, we can help you obtain this. In return we offer good rates of pay and a reliable and well maintained company vehicle. Our working days are Monday-Friday and approximately 17-20 hours per week during term times. These position may suit retired or semi-retired persons but all applicants are welcome. To enquire in the first instance, please email: tccsoton@gmail.com Poets Corner HERALD RECRUITMENT based at Hythe Marina Village We currently have two exciting roles within our growing communications company that involve working as key members of our operations team. The ideal candidate will have an excellent telephone manner and good IT skills. Full training will be provided on our own bespoke systems. For a full job description, please call us on 023 8160 0608 PANNAGE by Dorothy Lockyer I’m so excited, because today’s the day! With my mum and siblings, we are on our way. Into the forest, leaving our farm far behind, To see what delicacies, we can find. “Keep close” said mum, “there’s a special treat for you, Something that you can all nibble and chew. They are called acorns, which we can eat and eat, Fill our bellies with this fantastic treat”. Down with our snouts, we didn’t need telling twice, Chomping and crunching, they’re ever so nice! Lost in a world of culinary delights, For us pigs, exercising our ancient rights! The Catherine Wheel by David Wilson e Catherine wheel sits quietly Not yet burning bright Peaceful on the old oak post In the bon res ickering light Suddenly its ignition on Touch-paper starts to glow And it’s spinning round at super speed e main star of the show Multi-coloured sparks of light Spin o all around Some land in the apple tree Others on the ground People smile with oooh’s and aaah’s At this most spectacular sight Until a rocket busts above their heads With facets of bright light e Catherine wheel is spinning fast But few are looking on Eyes turn skyward in the night All attention now is gone One last burst of colour One last sparkling ame A glow of red and it’s almost dead And life is much the same! We are born quite stationary en we learn to walk and run We go to school break all the rules Life has just begun Teenage years they hold no fears In our twenty’s spinning fast Watched by all we’re in free fall Leaving older folk aghast We slow down reaching middle age Settled now with families As they grow up so we grow old Fewer leaves on the tree We spin on to the very end Admiring looks now gone Stopping without that rosy glow Near the end of life’s sweet song e Catherine wheel sits quietly On the oak post in the night Until suddenly its ignition on And facets of bright light! Just once every year no burnt toast, e reversal of the hour allows me to wake rst, to creep down and prepare: crisp brown toast, lightly buttered, Oxford marmalade, china plate, cup and saucer arranged on linen – my annual gi of love. ree hundred and sixty four days I awake to rhythmic scraping, the acrid perfume of bread absentmindedly burnt but never wasted. ree hundred and sixty four days I receive gratefully these charred o erings, the sturdy mug, contents occasionally slopped on kitchen roll – His daily gi of love. The Last Sunday in October by Lexley George The Mask by Chris Howlett I glimpse their eyes as they walk by They glance at me with suspicion And always keep their distance, Then back away at speed. Some eyes twinkle above the cover Some eyes glare with fear, Some eyes look lost and worried And some eyes really don’t care. All I want to discover again though Is their smile. Is it there? WHEN TEARS STAIN A PAGE by Paul Howlett A poem is only right when words bypass the brain. A poem is only right when the heart has it’s say. A poem is only right when light removes dark from a space. A poem is only right when a smile cracks the face. A poem is only right when words slice open the fear. A poem is only right when measured by the weight of a tear. And burning the guy, In honour of poor Fawkes, I’m wondering why. For when you look back Did he deserve what he got? Or should he have a medal For the incredible plot. This moment in time To me it seems clear, I think it would be A tempting idea. Bonfires and fireworks Anon