Tag Archives: Writers Assemble

Ice Cream Mozart (by Russ Crabtree)

It was great to hear the children play

To the sound of the ice cream van’s harmonic tones,

Up and down the street they ran

Excitement built at the sound

Of the painted ice cream van,

Every day it never failed

Mozart sonata in C major

Was the tune it always played,

Wolfgang would not even realise

His music composition

Made the ice cream taste so nice,

When a little girl was introduced

To Mozart’s tune and it produced

An accomplished organist and pianist,

Now how the years have flown

that little girl has grown,

and is now teaching students of her own,

Inspired by that harmonic tone

And her first taste of a

Five pence ice cream cone.

( Russell Crabtree is a member of Writers Assemble,the local community development project of Destiny Poets)

The Haircut (by Russ Crabtree)

There once was a maiden so fair

Who cut all her families hair,

Collected all up in a great big bin

Threw it all over the garden in Spring,

Sat down in the chair for a rest

To watch the birds pick it up for their nest,

But the maiden got angry began to shout

The birds made a mess on her washing she’d just pegged out,

It was dire

all over my best white shirt I wear in the choir,

Them birds can be a pest,

I’ve let them use my hair for their nest.

Editorial footnote:

Russell “Russ” Crabtree is a part of Writers Assemble -the local community group project run by Destiny Poets as part of our wider community involvement and outreach.

For more info, checkout the facebook page for Writers Assemble.

Water, The cycle of life (by Doug High)

Water, The cycle of life.

People scatter ashes
to visit now and then
but I have found another way
to always remember them
I look up to the clouds
all colours do I see
evaporated water
that we all used to be.

Water cannot ever be destroyed
it’s always been around
from the steam from a cremation
or buried under ground
they say that half our body
is made of water pure
but water it must leave us
no use to us anymore.

But the world will keep on turning
as it has for eternity
and water is into everything
from ice to a huge oak tree
it’s even in refreshments
that we all have to drink
even in the washing up
that ends up down the sink.

It will start another cycle
from the sea up to the clouds
end up in another creature
forever going around
but no one escapes the cycle
it’s in every kind of people
the good the bad the ugly
even the dam right evil.

So next time when you shed a tear
don’t be quick to brush away
it could be a long lost loved one
saying, hello I’m always here
and when we leave this paradise
and thrown into the mix
rising from your ashes
will be water your phoenix.

Doug High.

ROOM 42 ( by Susan McCartney )

ROOM 42: NATIONAL FILLING FACTORY NO 1: Barnbow, Leeds

The fog crept on kitten-cat paws

A comforting grey blanket

Holding a hint Of frost and coal dust

‘Bye Mam. See you later.’

Maggie, 17, might have called

Closing the door

heading for her last shift

at National Filling Factory No 1

Tuesday, 5th December, 1916

The fog, tiger-like

padded around Barnbow

A yellow miasma

engorged with TNT and cordite,

Staining skin entering lungs and livers

tapping sulphurous claws

on doors, windows

Widows Of Filling Factory No 1 watching

Waiting For the inevitable

Then,,10.27 pm

With a monster roar

It came

Earth and ear shattering

with screams

Scattered limbs,

hisses of scalding water running scarlet

Plumes of toxic fumes

and the smell of blood

The fog sucked it in

that scene designed by Dante.

Then satisfied with its carnage,

It turned yellow eyes

towards the city

whilst those remaining

picked up the pieces

Of Room 42

By Susan McCartney

Foot Note: The explosion, in Room 42 of the munitions factory at Barnbow, took the lives of 35 girls and women. Many more died later of shock, their injuries, and TNT poisoning. Some unidentified. They were nicknamed the ‘Canaries’ because of their yellow skin – chemicals having entered their livers. It was a foggy night. A veil of secrecy was drawn over the dreadful event. The full facts remain shrouded. Even now. Maggie Barker, 17, from Kippax. A victim.

(This is original work presented at Writers Assemble who meet fortnightly at The Junction Pub,Castleford,West Yorkshire.The group is a community development project of Destiny Poets)

Visible (by Jade Thomas)

Visible

And he said it never happened…

However, she still felt a sharp pinch in the pit of her stomach, her pupils widened. The back of her neck began to sweat.Thoughts consumed her entire body and for once, her memories of another women enlarged.

How could she forget? How could she forgive?The love of her life could not cause her any pain. She knew he was dedicated to his work as much as he was to her. He amended his past and gave her anything her heart desired.

So why did he glance more than once that summer’s day and patted the neighbour’s pretty shoulder when she came home claiming she had been fired?

How could she have been so visionless? How could she have been gullible?

Are these thoughts all a coincidence or now has she become more visible?

He made a beautiful vow, her husband caressed her into his arms, the same places she always felt protected. “She is jealous”! He justified.

She stared with her blue eyes at the sparkle in her wedding ring, she felt disconnected.Her hopes and dreams shattered into a million pieces while she felt their first kiss on her lips. Once again the magical power of feeling in love.

She could still hear his voice through the pounding of her heartbeat. His declaration of undying love would always be with her but now would never be enough.

Suddenly, her mind was screaming aloud and nothing in the entire world mattered anymore. Unforgiving images came flooding into her perfect life.

She could not handle the pressure of her soul darkening; she clenched the sharpest kitchen blade that hung down symmetrically to their family portrait.

She was no longer a person with a conscience or even a human being; she was no longer a beloved wife.