The Tale of a Gentlewoman – Geraldine Tunstall

Her heart was sore

A special thanks to Geraldine Tunstall for her powerful submission to Voices and the poetry competition. Have you found your soul mate? The mysterious nature of love and the human need for companionship and appreciation is addressed masterfully in ‘Tale of a Gentlewoman’. We really appreciate Geraldine sharing this special poem with us.

The Tale of a Gentlewoman

All she ever wanted

was to give her heart to a deserving suitor

Her prized possession

had a little wear and tear

but was still fully functioning

Most wanted one with all the bells and whistles

but she was waiting for a man

that wanted an old antique with some charm

Her heart was sore

she didn’t know how to feel anymore

Lump in her throat, it was hard to breathe

wishing everyone would just leave

so much chatter in her head

trying not to see red

She heard the cries

and whispers in the wind

Not sure of which way she was going

she took a deep breath

and told herself it didn’t matter

as long as she didn’t stop

They met in a dark place

the shadows made it hard to see

So many times they stumbled

but patience and communication were key

She intently listened

held her hand out for him to find

Knew she should share her thoughts

as he couldn’t read her mind

Her face trembled

as the tears brimmed to the top

She’d been holding it together so long

she was ready to pop

She put on a brave face

as he pulled her close

Baby, what’s wrong?

tears streamed as if she’d just seen a ghost

Geraldine Tunstall

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation.

Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

Dancing Queen – Elizabeth Train-Brown

the world is a stage and the speakers are on

It is very special to celebrate the life someone special through the medium of poetry, and Elizabeth Train-Brown remembers her Nana, who ‘spent her century-long life dancing and teaching others’, in a magical way. We are very proud to present ‘Dancing Queen’ in the blog. Having had experience working with cancer charities, she was very keen to support this project. Elizabeth followed her parents into a life of performance, becoming the ‘fire breathing Phoenix on stage’ and has also pursued a career in writing. Find out more about Elizabeth at: Dancing on the Knife Point. Thanks again Elizabeth for sharing your exceptional poetry.

Dancing Queen

(for Violet)

Her legs are stiff with age; it’s been so long since she danced,

Twirled and chartered the floor, chanced

Each night with a new man on her arm

Now, she’s stuck in a chair, blanket warm

Over her knees and the sky went dark hours ago.

She’s been dreaming with her eyes open, you know,

Gazing at the wall with a smile on her face as music drifts

Through the air and partners fly around her like swifts

In the sky. There’s a band in the corner, playing louder and louder:

Sax and bass and drums and voices shower

The dancefloor in streams of light, bathe the room in

Tangible ribbons of sheet music. Her lips part to sing

And somewhere, in another life, her voice echoes

Through the room and not a soul dare go

When their ears catch those fluttering notes.

Here, the air circles with lazy dust motes

But there, the world is a stage and the speakers are on:

I’m here! She cries into the mic. Did you think I was gone?

Their whoops and cheers carry her like stretchers

Through the crowd, each brush of skin electric with embers

Of song and dance and excitement in her veins again.

She’s dancing the foxtrot through torrents of champagne,

The waltz, the jive, the rumba, the salsa,

The tango, the jitterbug, the cha cha cha—

Her legs are alive after an age of rest,

Awake and electrified and the best

You will ever see from all around. She’s whirling and spinning

Across the dancefloor as if she never stopped; she’s finally winning.

They’ll cry, she knows, in that other life

Damp on their cheeks, hearts of strife.

But one or two will smile, spare a grateful thought

That up there above, heaven has a dance floor.

Elizabeth Train-Brown

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation.

Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

The Decimation – Xavier Coughlan

under the guise of playing saviours

We are extremely grateful for the talented Xavier Coughlan’s offering to Voices, and we appreciate his support. Xavier is a student who often chooses to address the theme of mental health within his poetry. Eloquent, profound and thought-provoking, we are very fortunate that he has decided to share ‘The Decimation’. Thank you Xavier.

The Decimation

Berkshire. A high-security psychiatric hospital designed by architect Joshua Jebb to accommodate Britain’s most elusive and intuitive.

An assembly of ten,

unburdened by morals,

gathered one fierce night

to float suggestions

of a solution –

to fabricate subtleties

in catastrophe

and solve

what makes you man.

–

These mighty ten

had been convened

by fate and a sectioning law,

and together round a table,

crafted by Joseph’s son himself,

the group disputed your future.

–

The Richest clanged

for an annihilation;

the demolition of a continent

blessed not by wealth,

but by culture,

and all the economics

heritage entails,

under the guise

of playing saviours.

–

One proposed a decimation

and advocated it by tying a noose

and swaying from the hands of

Our strongest

and jiggling to the pain of their

blood-crossed hands.

–

We were subdued by two thoughts

in watching him dangle:

admiration for not being formulaic

in not using the flush of lighting;

and the eulogizing of his manifesto

in watching its flair unfold.

–

He was right.

That night, we shared his Lithium,

grinding the pills

into equal amounts –

complying with the cadaver.

Decimation was the future.

The decision had been made.

They bid farewell and set off

to tackle the execution.

Pax vobiscum

Xavier Coughlan, Pewsey, Wiltshire

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation.

Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

Nursery Mares – Stuart Hardy-Taylor

my life was scarred forever and a more

Thanks to Stuart Hardy-Taylor for his humorous and witty contribution to Voices Poetry Blog and the competition. There is indeed a certain darkness in many of the stories and rhymes we are told when we are children. Stuart sums this up in a very clever way, and we are sure his excellent poem will make you smile. We really appreciate his unique offering.

Nursery Mares

Ever since I was a child, I’ve had horrendous nightmares

Because of all the stories and nursery rhymes, like Goldilocks and the three bears

And Hansel and Gretel and red riding hood

witches and granny eating wolves, how could that ever be good

And every night I would worry, unable to sleep

Because I was so emotional and scared, about bow-peep and her sheep

Expecting me sleep and stop crying, parents what were ya thinking, it begs all belief

WHEN ALL I COULD SEE IN MY HEAD, IS A BRIDGE AND THE TROLL UNDERNEATH

Jack and the beanstalk and the goose laying gold eggs

But only thing i can remember, is the giant that wanted Jack for his bread

And the three little pigs, i was petrified the wolf, would blow my house down, just like the one with the sticks

And my life was scarred forever and a more, because Humpy dumpy would never be fixed

And I’m not surprised I took drugs, come on, cows jumping over the moon

The fox ate the poor ginger bread man, and the dish ran away with the spoon

And the little dog laughed because he thought it was fun

But I would cry and I’d weep for the little piggy that had none

And little miss Muffet and that great bloody big spider

Fancy telling me that as a child, that it came and sat down beside-her

I never wanted to hear, about the old duke of York and his ten thousand men

And especially the time that they wasted, just going up and down and again

Putting all these things in my head, I didn’t think it was healthy or fair

Oh the nightmares that I had, about the mouse in his boots, WHERE, there on the stairs

But I’m going to bed now, and going to try and go sleep

And you can do one bow-peep because I don’t care anymore about you or your bloody lost sheep

GOODNIGHT

Stuart Hardy-Taylor, Loughborough

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation.

Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

Global Warming – Allan Thomas

the air around us has changed

We are sure you will appreciate this very thoughtful, thought-provoking and topical poem from Allan Thomas about climate change. Allan is a physicist who hails from Teeside, and very kindly decided to enter our competition. Thank you for taking the time to pen this poem Allan which reminds us all of the urgency to respect the environment.

Global Warming

Fifty years ago we thought that that fossil
Fuel was a finite resource which would run out.
That which burns never returns.

Since then improved technology has helped
And enabled us to extend founts of energy !
North Sea oil etc seemed to be an answer.

We now know that gases from coal, gas
And oil have a detrimental affect on the atmosphere
Unfortunately the air around has changed in a profound way!

Greenhouse gases Methane and CO2
Are the villains of the piece and adding more
And more adds more to the flame of global warming.

Recent research points to a maximum tolerable rise
Of 1.5 deg C .More than this will produce catastrophic changes !
Yet this does little to engender a collective response !

Allan Thomas, Teeside

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation.

Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

Purple Flowers Bloom – Darran Cosgrove

I offer a hand that should be strong

Thank you to Darran Cosgrove for his moving offering to the Voices Poetry Blog and competition. The sight of flowers conjure up a myriad of emotions for us all: loss, romance, grief, happiness, hope… Darran is a student currently residing in Bathgate who ‘enjoys writing whenever he can, mostly on the train or when essays are overdue.’ We are sure you will appreciate his excellent work.

Purple Flowers Bloom

Purple flowers bloom, their sight is succor to our forgotten,

Who’ve aged years before their time, stricken fast by cruel chance.

They battle the body, showing spirit beyond ken.

What drives them I cannot know.

Fear or family, faith?

My own fate is simply to watch. I offer a hand that should be strong,

It shakes with the shame I fear I show.

In their eyes I see resolve, a burning vigor no disease can slow.

They break the grip and stand steady,

They’ll bring me to the garden when I’m ready.

Darran Cosgrove, 21, Bathgate

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation.

Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.