A Psalm For People
Joyce Worsfold presents a psalm for the troubled - a psalm for all people.
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Joyce Worsfold presents a psalm for the troubled - a psalm for all people.
Grey clouds remind Caroline Glyn of ancient gods.
There's a fragile beauty in the view through a misty window, as Caroline Glyn's poem reveals.
A mere glimpse from a speeding train was sufficient to give birth to this poem by Caroline Glyn.
Caroline Glyn paints a word portrait of a world-famous station.
Joyce Worsfold's poem reminds us of why we exist.
From a wet and dark Earth Caroline Glyn dreams of space.
Joyce Worsfold's unforgettable words will make you realise just how lucky you are.
On Mothers' Day 1993 an IRA bomb exploded in Warrington, Betty McKay's home town, and killed two children. The horrific event prompted her to write these verses.
Trains are the lords of the night, says Caroline Glyn's poem.
Ken Patterson wrote this poem for his granddaughter Haven, who was then five years old.
Open Writing has already published two poems by Tracy Gaddin, who in her all-too-short life wrote words which brought comfort to others who also suffered from mental anguish.
Those poems, which can be read by typing Tracy's name into the search box on this page, were greeted with enthusiasm by readers around the world.
Here now is another poem by Tracy, written when she was not feeling unwell and was able to welcome the dawn of a new day. Our thnaks for to her mother, Dianne, for allowing us to publish it.
May Johnson lived in Whitstable during the flood of 1953. She died in 1995. Her poem is presented by her relatives Ian and Jennifer Johnson as a memorial to a beloved aunt.
Caroline Glyn's poem reflects upon the fact that though people shelter behind identical masks, beneath the surface no two are the same.
Marjorie Upson presents two poems which feature the Yorkshire river which flows through her home town - the River Calder.
Caroline Glyn tells of a dozing fisherman who experiences a colourful dream.
Linda McLean's poem brings the reassurance that after life's storms there is calm.
...There are feelings in my fingertips that remind me of you.
The satin of your shoulder that makes me want to cry...
Brian Lockett's poem tells of the images of love which, though they may fade, never disappear.
Linda Jane Robertson's poem reminds us of our place in the great order of the Earth, and the life upon it.
Betty McKay's poem concerns first thoughts.
Caroline Glyn tells of a bleak, seemingly-endless road.
...But I bless you, child of my mind,
who went where I could never go, behind
the images, into the myths, and raised them for me
visible in a magic painting book...
A child's gift brings to Caroline Glyn a different outlook on the world.
...My greatest elation is the exultation
That follows five hours' silence and desolation.
Each night I lie in darkness and I die
A true death, when at last I cease to be I...
Caroline Glyn welcomes the oblivion of darkness and night.
...A frozen midnight and a dream that did not pass.
He lay in great peace in the straw, and heard,
still sounding on, the all-creating word;
Above the doorway marched the circling stars,
Turning on the unseen point, on the unheard cry;
As his own life had rested all along
On that which he now knew as awakening song;
Beneath his time he had felt it timelessly lie...
Caroline Glyn writes of the illuminating light that burst upon Caedmon.
Betty McKay's poem conjures up the frightening and hilarious days of wartime as seen through they eyes of a child.
...These swaying boughs seem to chatter and joke
Gesturing as if they were dignified ancient ladies
Enjoying a fashionable cocktail party...
Caroline Glyn conveys the courtly nature of elm trees.
Caroline Glyn's poem celebrates one of Nature's fearsome wonders.
The persistent rosebay willow brings colour and life, even to a scrapyard, as John Waddington-Feather's poem reveals.
John Waddington-Feather expresses his affection for that cunning rogue - the fox.
Recently we published a poem entitled To Inspire The Vanquished by Tracy Gaddin which brought an enthusiastic and appreciative response from readers around the world.
From the depths of her own anguish Tracy was able to fashion words which brought sympathetic comfort to troubled souls.
Here is another poem by Tracy - an offering of nourishing words that will implant themselves in hearts and minds.
Continue reading "Vasbyt - Alles Sal Regkom - (Hang In There - Everything Will Come Right)" »
...Your favourite meal was turnip leaves
Nasturtiums pleased you too,
Cabbage and grass, oatmeal and bread,
E’en docken leaves would do!...
Hugh S Robertson's heart-warming poem tells of the rescue and befriending of a frightened young animal.
Masimba Biriwasha's profound poem concerns the greatest evil: the rule by force of one country over another.
Masimba Biriwasha writes of the seemingly fragile but undeniable power that drives the longing for freedom.
Do please type Masimba's name into the search box on this page to read more of his moving and inspirational poetry.
Tracy Gaddin's heart-felt poem expresses desperation, and a desire to be free from hangups.
At the heart of Tracy's words is a deep sympathy for and a desire to help those who suffer from depression.
John Waddington-Feather's poem is as noble and natural as the bird it concerns.
John Waddington-Feather hails that humble flower, the daisy - a small copy of the sun.
Then, one day, the ripples of our hope
Grew into a crest-high wave
That tore through the dictator's barbed walls
And made us believe again...
Masimba Biriwasha writes a powerful and memorable poem about the most prizes of human possessions - freedom. The force of his words are all the greater when you realise that Masimba, who now lives and works in Thailand, is an exile from his troubled homeland, Zimbabwe.
To read more of his poems please type his name in the menu on this page.
Masimba Biriwasha's poem brings to life the power of the word.
Masimba Biriwasha's poem tells the shocking tale of a naughty lady.
Joyce Worsfold writes a poem about people in need – then asks questions about what can be done to help them.
...you must become quiet so
you perceive the river of light
on the edge of adversity...
Poet Masimba Biriwasha shines a light on the difficult path we follow towards the meaning of life.
Masimba Biriwasha's poem expresses the lightness and beauty, the hopes and dreams of a fragile butterfly.
For more of Masimba's richly imagined poems please type his name in the search box on this page.
Masimba Biriwasha, personally aware of the unending anguish of exile from one's homeland, tells of the desire that no dictator can supress - the longing for freedom.
...Out of the mud, the lotus of your being unveils itself..
Masimba Biriwasha's poem advises us to look within ourselves to find that for which we search.
Masimba Biriwasha presents a poem which sings and swirls across the blankness of time and space.
Masimba Biriwasha's words will haunt your thoughts.
"The function of an artist is to reveal an inner divine realm,'' says Masimba Biriwasha. "This essential divinity is tragically submerged in humanity. To ignore this divine impulse is to destroy one's potential for achieving authentic selfhood and psychological maturity."
This poem by Masimba concerns a woman who unlocks her imprisoned soul.
...Dreaming a different dream is hard,
A dream with eyes wide open, a dream
That makes blood within to boil with renewed passion,
A dream that weaves music like a butterfly's wings,...
Poet Masimba Biriwasha's words give visibilty to the deepest human desires and feelings.
...My heart urges me in whispers -
It tells me to swing and dance in the wind of a rediscovered self
Like a morning butterfly - so sweet, so free, so there...
That fine poet Masimba Biriwasha tells of thoughts and feelings experienced by every questing human being.
Masimba Biriwasha sees a message of hope and inspiration in a dead butterfly.
For more of Masimba's wonder-filled poems please type his name in the menu on his page.
Masimba Biriwasha reminds us that the price of freedom is the blood of dead heroes and martyrs.
Mary Shepherd of Ashington, Northumberland - a Geordie, and rightly proud of the fact - brings us an ode to stottie cake. Stottie is a kind of bread - and if you haven't eaten it, well you really haven't lived.
...fill that dream here
now
amid strife and stone
let the dream
sing through your fingers
carrying you to the brink
of that golden river...
Masimba Biriwasha's poems awaken a realisation of the wonderful possibilites for the human heart and soul.
To read more of his words please type his name in the search box on this page.
Oh for those days of the old-fashioned telephone. Katharine Bentley is no fan of the mobile phone, as her poem reveals.
Masimba Biriwasha's poem nurtures the thought that each day is a new-minted opportunity to live a full life.
There is compassion and understanding in Joyce Worsfold's poem about the fading of the light.
Masimba Biriwasha's poem concerns an ancient dream, and a noble vision.
Masimba Biriwasha believes that the function of an artist is to reveal an inner divine realm. This essential divinity is tragically submerged in humanity. To ignore this divine impulse is to destoy one's potential for achieving authentic selfhood and psychological maturity.
His poem most satisfyingly proves his point.
Masimba is the Policy and Programming Coordinator of Health & Development Networks based in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Please visit www.hdnet.org
Brian Jenkinson tells of the last night of Peter the Apostle.
Ramraj Khakurel of Nepal sums up in verse his overwhelming urge to write.
Mike Cunningham brings a sombre word portrait of life in present-day Johannesburg, once the most vibrant and well-run city in Africa, but now sliding into chaos, crime, filth and degradation.
Mike lived in the city for 15 years and was proud of what had been achieved by its builders. His words were prompted by an evocative prose-poem by regular Open Writing contributor Barbara Durlacher who described the Johannesburg of yesteryear.
Both Mike's and Barbara's words appeared in editions this week of the online newspaper OhmyNews International.
But still the pepper waved its green fronds gaily,
Though breezes stirring them were hot and dry...
Elaine Lawton tells a rhyming tale of a tree that became a shrubbery.
Miriam McAtee’s poem is about a search familiar to everyone who tries to write.
…Yet those who in stained windows shine
Led lives the same as yours and mine.
And some whose halos have been won
Did things much worse than those we've done…
Brian Jenkinson’s poem is a reminder of the great things that are expected of us..
Masimba Biriwasha, an African living far from his homeland, brings us this heartfelt poem.
Violet Kendal’s poem indicates that Nature is fashion conscious.
...The time left to go often occupies my thoughts, and others of my age.
A lifetime that seemed infinite not long ago, now has a more defined dimension...
As the minutes tick away John Merchant pedals a stationary bicycle, his thoughts turning to that most significant of countdowns.
As snowflakes fall Moira Marchant thinks of childhood days. Moira grew up in Newfoundland.
Brian Jenkison’s poem recalls the bright angel who guided the wise men to Bethlehem.
Margaret Smith Macabe writes of her "Bonny Lad", Wilfred Dobson, who died earlier this year. Margaret was not much more than a baby when she met Wilf who was 'walking out’ with Rene Bray, the daughter of her neighbour across the street. The pair of them hit it off at once and began a friendship that endured for the better part of sixty years and will – as Margaret writes in her poem – be resumed when eventually she follows on to that place where Wilf has gone.
Bonny Lad is an oft-used expression of endearment by Geordies, folk born near the banks of the Tyne in the environs of the city of Newcastle, Northumberland.
A photograph of a small dog whose rear legs had had to be removed and replaced by wheels inspired Jean Cowgill to venture into verse.
Brian Jenkinson’s poem reminds us of the first Christmas.
You need all five senses to experience the best of Christmas, as June Digby reveals.
Miriam McAtee recalls the world as seen through the eyes and sensed through the nose of an infant.
Oh dear! Santa’s getting podgy, he’s eating too much pud, says Aileen Boyed.
…“Happy Christmas,” cried Mum, “Just see what I’ve brought,”
As she laid the bundle down. I kissed her.
It might have been boots! Well that’s what I thought…
What was this astonishing bundle that Mum had brought home? Barbara Burden reveals the delightful secret.
Peace settles,
The mountain is still,
Silver grey in the morning light…
Len Bourne’s poem paints a pacific scene.
So why does she bake those Devonshire pasties when she could buy them ready-made? Joyce Moon’s wise poem reveals the reason.
Cecilia Evans had a shivery, chilly time in that holiday bungalow.
Marjorie Upson’s poem was inspired by by Margaret Thatcher’s resignation as Prime Minister and leader of the Conservative Party. She also had in mind Thomas Hood‘s poem of the same title.
“Is there anything good about winter?’’ Alan Davey asks.
Marion McKeen's poem reveals that choosing marmalade can be a queasy business.
Marion writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
Amazing what a spot of winter sunshine can do, as Joyce Moon's poem reveals.
Edith Pleasance asks us to pity the poor who strived for a crust.
Ted Morris brings a poem for this Remembrance Sunday.
Cecily Cross writes of a peaceful place where you hear curlew's lonely call.
Joyce Moon's poem reflects upon the clasroom injustice of long ago.
Aileen Boyed tells of a profane message from the mystic.