‘Thoughts from a Small Town Bar’ by Barrie Purnell

Sitting in a bar the other day
I was asked what I had to say
About state of the railway station
And what was wrong with United Nations.
I said problem with station is trains are late,
And the UN angered the United States.
Anyhow it’s no good asking me
I’m just about as dumb as you can be,
Ask a professor under a dreaming spire
Of that university in Oxfordshire.
I am sure that he will be able
To furnish you with graphs and tables,
To explain any problem big or small
Without using any facts at all.
As for me my limited education
Provided very little information
Useful for answering general questions
About world affairs or railway stations.

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‘The Plague’ by Barrie Purnell

How Futile is the fight with ignorance on both sides.

The enemy was invisible our defenses outsmarted
Behind anonymous masks fights had already started,
They recruited from the orphanage and prison as well
And from girls that mean business in the seedy hotel,
Those who never knew innocence those with no name
All headed up to the front just to keep in the game.

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‘Solitude of Longing’ by Barrie Purnell

Long lost photographs
Exhumed from dusty albums
Form a fistful of lost faces
Which stare out accusingly
Against their long isolation.
I let the memories slip in
Through the gateway of my eyes,
A small stream of the remembered
Flowing across a wilderness
Of the forgotten. Among them
I see her unforgotten face,
My brain turning ventriloquist
To remind me of her voice.

Oh the solitude of longing
And the solitude of loss,
The loss of our belonging
The longing for those lost.

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The Rainbow’s End by Kara Wilkinson

It came so quick from so far and wide,
Our hectic world just taking a dive.

We have all had to take it all in our stride,
The commute to work just being set aside.

This little virus that we can’t even see,
Has changed our world and where we will be.

Our schools have closed and kids are bored,
But it’s given us time to sort all that we hoard.

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‘No More After Me’ by Barrie Purnell

I am the last of the line
There will be no more after me,
I have no sons or brothers to carry my name
When I die we will just cease to be.

I am the last of the line
When young I never gave it a thought,
Now I am older I think it’s a loss to the world
Then again ……. maybe it’s not.

I am the last of the line
As a result of inadequate conception,
I produced no progeny of either sex
But extinction was not my intention.

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‘The Book Keeper’ by Barrie Purnell

Barrie wrote this wonderful and imaginative piece in response to last week’s picture prompt. Please do share yours with us too.

I’ve travelled across an ocean of unused words,
Climbed over the high walls of my pride,
Pushed through a forest of rejections
Only to find her on the other side.

She was the custodian of every written word
Who looked upon all writers with disdain,
Working with her soulless keeper of books
It’s metal hand recording each author’s name.

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‘Signals’ by Barrie Purnell

I really enjoyed this original poem that Barrie has written in response to our last prompt ‘Green’.

She stood apart from all the others
Between the music and the wine,
The road behind littered with those
Who had misinterpreted her signs.
Oh yes you were the pretty one
You were every young man’s dream.
They were waiting patiently in line
For your signal to turn green.

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