The Joy of Sue's Day

It was touch and go

All wired up to the clicking machine

My heart beat a mark on a neon screen,

Frightened of what may be

I cling to Jan in pained silence,

While nurses fussed and spoke in whispers

And I fell into a heparin dream.


There she stood tall

Bathed in golden light

Smiling softly in her own sweet way,

Her dress rustled as we moved

Towards her wedding rites,

Across the grassy sward

For this was her day.


The rays of light shone

Through the courtroom windows,

While promises were made,

Joyously the contracts signed

We emerged in to the autumn light

To drink a toast, to hug,

To kiss before the afternoon light did fade.


For me it was pure joy

For I was alive on her wedding day,

At East Dean Down

Up in the hills amongst the trees,

With laughter and joy

Whilst Jan's gentle whispers wiped my tears away.

By Lawrence Crisp


Armed with chocolates

Armed with chocolates, roses and a card he stumbled through the door

But before he travelled far his eyes were drawn on to the floor

Where a little gift wrapped package tied expensively with a bow

Looked like a gift, but was a bomb and just about to blow.


Moving in he scooped up the gift and walked a little further

Till intercepted by his wife with something akin to murder

In her eyes, quickly he stopped to re-assess his stock

Chocs, flowers, card – no he had got the lot!


Instinctively no fearfully he proffered forth his wares

But nothing, no response just a maniacal stare

At the smallest gift upon which he noticed a swinging label

"To my sex god I loved last week – wow and with a table!"


Blinking, quaking, stunned he thought "perhaps I'll start again"

But in seconds was experiencing excruciating pain

As thorns were ripping through his trousers to his very loins

Roses now exploded from where he usually kept his coins


Rewind last week - he forced himself to think

At the finance directors' conference – to what levels did he sink?

Frantically he inquested events to lead him to this mess

And gradually it came to him – "the module based on stress."


The project leader said that humour was greatly underused

So scenarios were painted that would help to lift those blues

One was about the hapless hubbie and ordinary bloke

Who unknowingly fell foul to a Valentine's Day joke.


By Roger Mills

Bracklesham


How long?


how long shall I wait for you?

until the seas reclaim the land,

the mighty towers tumble

mountains fall and turn to sand?


how long shall I wait for you?

until the sky is black and cold,

the Sun no longer lights the sky

and all the world has grown so old?


how long shall I wait for you?

until my my broken heart bleeds dry

my body and my mind grow frail

and there are no more tears to cry?


how long shall I wait for you?

tell me, dearest, I must know

I'd wait a thousand years and more

if you will only tell me so


By Sian Gethin

Worthing



An Angel Once Touched Me


Speechless is love; veils has it been veiled,

Yet know it cries aloud unto you; and would stand revealed before you.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

Deep is the longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires.

When love beckons you; and wings enfold you,

Only then all these things shall love do to you; will you find the secrets of your heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only loves pleasures,

Love gives not but itself and takes nothing for itself.

Love possesses for love is sufficient to love,

And finds you worthy and directs your course.

Love has no other desires but to fulfil itself but if love and must need have desires....

To melt and be like the moon that sings its melody to the night,

To know the pain of to much tenderness,

To be wounded by your own understanding of love.

To bleed willingly and joyfully,

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks to another day.

To rest at the noon hour and meditate loves ecstacy.

And then to sleep with a prayer,

For in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.


By Louise Coe

Chichester


Saint Valentine's Message


Do I deserve just one days' grace?

As if this task's not hard-enough -

For I've been charged to oversee

'Everyone' who would know love.


Love: an abstract noun that all would hold

As something concrete to their breast.

And bold are those who speak of desire

Before this day, then

Every day that follows after.


So, ignore the shops festooned

With garish cards at foolscap size,

The pink, heart-shape balloons emblazoned:

"Will you be my Valentine?"


Ignore what the fourteenth would have you say,

Turn aside cliche; don't think of kneeling -

For every day is lover's day:

And here romance shelves with deeper meaning.


By John Clatworthy

Chichester


Memories


I remember! – I remember!

When we walked on yonder hill,

Downland turf beneath our feet

– the sound of the murmuring rill,

Drifting clouds like thistledown

created pictures in the sky,

In the boundless blue the skylark sang

its melody on high;

In the stillness of the drowsy day

we wandered hand in hand,

We breathed the scented Sussex air

and a golden future planned,

But many paths have gone awry

as we've travelled thro' the years,

There's been bleak and dismal days

fraught with anxiety and tears,

Life is not an easy path

with dark shadows along the way,

But sweet memories and hope

bring solace when the skies are grey;

I thank God for the many years

– the years we've spent together,

'Neath bright warm summer skies

and in cold bitter winter weather,

Carefree youth has slipped away

– salad days now gone forever

And I remember the happy days

– golden days to treasure.


By Doreen Sparkes

Chichester