These poems have all been composed, written and published since 2019. More poems can be found on the Military Conflict Stories page.

We make every endeavour to reproduce the style and layout requested by the poet, sometimes a particular layout is difficult to achieve on the website. Please contact this site if you want an alteration to a layout.


The Writers’ Group

by Sandra Stirling

We meet on a regular basis,
With notebooks tucked under our arms
Or iPads charged at the ready
For the Writers Group many charms.

For some, there could be a focus
On topics that follow a theme,
Like “Birthday,” “Garage” or “Delicious,”
While for others, it’s pure academe.

We listen to stories or poems
That engage, delight and enthrall –
The talent here is prodigious,
A talent demonstrated by all.

And mention must be made of the playwrights,
A particular skill here involved
As they’re written for radio only,
Special problems have to be solved.

We applaud, encourage, make comments
As work is read out aloud,
And if the author’s work is accepted,
They’ve a perfect right to feel proud.

I’m so glad I joined this Writers Group,
To be part of the ebb and flow
Of the talents and joy of this friendly class,
And the people I’ve come to know.

©Sandra Stirling, 2020

published 22 June 2020



by Peter Lucas

I’ll wait a little longer

For your eyes to close

when night becomes still

and streets are awake in yellow.

Ill wait a little longer

 for your hair to be brushed

your hand to be held

the smile to fade.

I’ll wait  for hot tea

and  memories

the girl you were 

the mother you became.

I’ll wait in this room

of faded photographs

and dried arrangements

with the smells of glycerine and rose.

I’ll wait sleeping in the chair

For your whisper

Telling me to go

‘It’s alright’, I say’ just a little longer

I curl deeper in the chair 

wait for the quiet even breathing

comforted by its motion

and the knowledge your still here.

©Peter Lucas, 2020

published 25 June 2020


Free Range

by Joy Meekings

There once was a chicken named Thelma her life was not going so well
For she was a battery hen and confined to a living hell
She thought she would never be rescued and be out in the sun all day long
She’d imagine blue sky, gentle breezes, pecking the earth, feeling strong
Her dream was to be a Free Ranger for that was the best she could be
Ooh to be out in the open, maybe sitting under a tree?
The ‘monsters’ running this ‘prison’ were convicted and now doing time
Confined to a very small cell, but does their punishment fit the crime?
Most of Thelma’s companions were unlucky, so mistreated they had to die
Thelma survived and is thriving, I thought you’d like to know why
Adopted by a good family she’s so much more than Free Range
Has all she could ever dream of, after thinking her life would not change
Her feathers have grown back completely, she looks and feels so well
Rarely thinks of her former life, for it does no good to dwell
Everyone please take notice, for we can bring about change
Let’s either keep chickens of our own or always buy Free Range!

©Joy Meekings © 2020

published 25 June 2020



by Gwen McCallum

Masked up and running
shoe laces tight as two old friends,
past scree weeds and stones
discarded plastic wrapping and graffiti
on red brick walls.

All the while in your head
planning a day a week a life,
waiting for answers-who wouldn’t,
everybody knows the questions.

Imagine a time, a place apart
when we sit down and touch,
fleeting or firm, a warmth, like
a swift injection into eager veins.

This is a ballad where notes are off
the tempo wrong.
Someone forgot the rules, 
a sharp reminder, because 
the conductor always calls the tune.


© Gwen McCallum 2020

published 27 June 2020