A Network of Writing and Community Publishers

August 2010

06 May 2012

Horray for summer

Horray! The summer holidays are here. Here's to lazy days in the sunshine. All school uniform is in the wash, no rush to get it sorted out. Big Brother is on tv. That really means summer to me. Summer won't be the same without it when they take it off air. The kids have late nights and get up late which is fine with me because I have a peaceful breakfast. I'll plan some days out. Hopefully a day at Camber Sands will be happening. I guess I'll be making picnics which I don't enjoy doing, but I will have to as we can't always eat out. I'll look forward to a visit to an open farm and going on yet another tractor ride. Lets hope for lots of sunshine and being able to pop down to the beach and eating lovely ice creams. I love it when the kids say, "I' hot" It's loads better than hearing, I"m cold" Well one year I'm sure we will have a long hot summer holiday. I suppose we can always dream.

Debbie Feltz

AUGUST 25 2010

I love the green that shimmers in the rain
The fall of drops that pelt my window pane,
The glow of reds and pinks
The gold, that streaks upon the grass.

I watch August leave behind
The summer days that now must pass.

For September shows before its time
The force of windswept leaves,
As beauty weeps and petals fall
The days steal by like thieves.




At the beginning. A little girl comes running.Subway is in the distance.A couple of boys walk by as she sits drinking her peppermint tea.

Baby looks around from its pushchair. The sky is dull and she begins to wonder about life.

The weather is quite different from yesterday.The music in the background gives her a sense of achievement in her life. She has found the gumption to carry on.

It is summer coming on to Autumn. Schools are out. Many teenagers are about. Many mis-haps between friends. Grandparents coming to their aid sometimes when just off to bed.

Not long ago the families relative passed away. It affected all. Times were hard wondering about the future. As she sits with her peppermint tea, she begins to
wonder about the life that they had before her son was born. It is still summer.

She will go home soon and find the lovely cabbage waiting for her to place in the microwave to cook. She came across a similar pack a few weeks ago. It was delicious. A cabbage melody. Such a healthy meal. She had it also last night.She wonders what she will have with it tonight. Last night, if she remembers correctly, it was salmon. She went off all fish and dairy and meat for at least 3 weeks; she thought she was doing the right thing, trouble is, her oesophagus began to hurt again, she found it hard to swallow. Although she was having the alternative of soya, that also felt greasy, but obviously not enough. She has stayed off meat.

Briony went back on milk 2 days ago, and her ossie... didn't feel so painful, so, again she had done the right thing. Sometimes, its not a case of just losing weight which she does need to do, its about considering the health problems you have.

That beat is nice, its peaceful, triumphant to the soul.

So her goal is to enjoy her writing again.

The beauty of the summer months have been great. Now Briony will rest again in her soul, continuing her journey through life.

©17.8.2010 Josie Lawson
All Rights Reserved
Member of GROW

Some Are, Some Where

Summer good
summer bad
summer summer in between

summer bright
summer dull
summer OK
summer grey
summer blue
summer of a different hue

summer fair
summer fun
summer rose
summer thorn
summer rain
summer storm
summer summer in between

summer times the livin's easy
summer times it's really hard
summer times the rhymes come easy
summer times you sack the bard

summer fruits
summer flutes
summer loves
summer doves
summer thrills
summer spills
summer BOLD
turns into
Autumn gold

Dave Chambers
Newham Writers Workshop


What did summer mean to me? Perhaps a day beside the sea.
My parents never went away to have a summer holiday.
My family didn’t have the money to go somewhere warm and sunny
When other people could afford to spend their holidays abroad.

So during my school holiday while all my friends had gone away
I sold shoes in my cousin’s shop; at weekends too, until I’d drop.
My dad said I could stay at school if I obeyed the family rule
And contributed to my keep; and so I worked when not asleep.

My mum was ill, my father toiled, but with no trade was not well oiled.
And of his plight, I had a fear, so worked hard for a good career
In a local authority. Applied myself diligently.
Yet once I made it to the top I still worked hard, until I’d drop.

I also found that as I grew I could do what the others do
And take my wife and kids to play abroad, upon a holiday.
To realise that it’s not much fun to burn up in the scorching sun,
Fighting foreigners by the pool and wishing for my days at school.

Andrew Diamond
Newham Writers (Monday Group)

Dangerous World

Volcanic ash, the planes might crash, so they no longer fly.
And up above, a greyish-blue, no engines in the sky.
No one’s going anywhere, we’re all stuck on the ground.
In Kew they can hear bird song, a most unusual sound.
The Country’s losing millions, no goods are being shifted
And that is how it’s going to be until the ash has lifted.
I want to book a holiday, but when I hear the news
I think, best not to try to fly, perhaps I’ll book a cruise.
But then there are tsunamis, giant waves and earthquakes too.
The number of disasters has increased from just a few.
And what with global warming, and the flooding that’s about,
Perhaps it’s best to stay at home, indoors, and not go out.
Apart from bits of shopping I must do around the town,
I’ll just sit in the garden in a deck chair turning brown,
And smell the pretty flowers that give off such a sweet aroma,
Whilst hoping that my freckles don’t turn into melanoma.
So beware the force of nature, because the day may come
When it turns round unexpectedly and bites you on the bum.

Andrew Diamond
Newham Writers (Monday Group)


No Case to Answer

Standing at the carousel,
Though I know my suitcase well,
Other people’s look the same.
Punch up at the Baggage Claim.

Oh how bravely we all fought.
Then they took us off to court
Where, they found, I had no case.
They’d flown it to a different place.

Tried to claim on my insurance.
I was praised for my endurance,
But to pay they were unable;
Doubt about the luggage label.

So my case is truly lost
As I found out to my cost.
Where my stuff is no one knows,
If you find it, wash my clothes.

Andrew Diamond
Newham Writers (Monday Group)


When the sticky heat seeks out every body crivice
The noise from children off school invades your ears.
It's August

When the smell of cooking animal flesh fills the air
Lager and charcoal sales increase threefold
It's August.

Sun worshippers grab the last chance for a tan
in case Septembers' Indian visitor doesn't come
It's August.

And brown wrinkles pile up like ripples on wet sand:
you pray; trying to stop another year slipping away.
Too late!

It's Autumn.

Jim White


The long seeded grass blew gently in the breeze. The faded olive water butt leaned against the lattice fencing, and the old rusty wheelbarrow looked ready for the scrapheap.

Stinging nettles weaved themselves through the slats of the wooden gate that was covered in dark moss.

The garden looked more like a jungle where it had been neglected for quite some time now.
Weeds could no longer be distinguished from plants – everything was overgrown and dry from the heat of the sun.

The tall fir trees that once stood tall and proud now lay dead on the hard baked earth. The only indication that the trees had ever been there were the large round stumps and the deep roots buried far below in the rich earth.

At the very bottom of the garden the old steam train ran as regular as clockwork on the hour. I could hear the loud chugging noise and see patches of her smoke billow up into the sky, disappearing into the white downy clouds.

The only sign of life was the blue and orange flames of the bonfire that danced in the late evening sun, and the grey smoke that spread endlessly into the warm air.
The garden would be beautiful once again when restored and finished to its final glory.

Sue Rabbett

Summer Fun

Sunny afternoon, bright blue sky,
happy children in the playground,
swings, swings low, swings swing high,
roundabout, roundabout spinning around

Down very fast little boys slide
screaming, shouting, laughing loud
whilst little girls gently glide,
floating, falling soft as a cloud

Scrambling, clambering, hand over hand
race! Win the race up the climbing frame.
Far down below, mothers, fathers stand.
"I'm here! I'm there! I've won the game!"

"Time to go home time for tea
please don't cry, don't be sad
we'll come tomorrow you and me."
"Thank-you mummy, that's good, I'm glad."

Jan Hedger


28 August 2010
Your Name: jan hedger
Your Comment: Hi Sally - good to read your work as always! Great poem of topicality - with the shifting weather and season patterns!

Your Name: Andrew Diamond
Your Comment: Very clever Dave and a great ending.

Your Name: Jan Hedger
Your Comment: Dave love the Summer, summer, repeated pattern poem - innovative!Summerisation of summer!
Andrew - always a joy to read your work!Thanks for brightening a dull grey, summers day, when for me no play, work calls!

Your Name: Jan Hedger
Your Comment: Jim, can you send your poem to the met office? I think they have mis-programmed this August! Lol
Imaginative description Sue!

Your Name: Jim White
Your Comment:
Hi all, a bit late but pc probs. Great stuff every month. Could we be heading for an anthology?
Thanks for your comments Jan, of course you may save Yeserdays Dreams, that's what the FED is about, sharing. - J

Your Name: Andrew Diamond
Your Comment: Lovely poem Jan. You've described it as it was and as I hope it still is.

Your Name: Ashley Jordan
Your Comment: What a lovely start to the August Challenge, Jan :-)


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