Guest Writers

Poppy Appeal A centenary Of single, scarlet petals Lest we should forget This bold sacrifice Rivers of blood, and heartache For those left behind The tears we now shed Mere droplets in time. Our thanks? The least we can do.   Lesley Young – Writer and Poet   Lesley specialises in helping senior managers in the NHS

Identity Crisis She was looking for herself In all the usual places Seeking a connection But finding just blank spaces She’d tried the church and dancing class And some unusual places Chasing her identity But tripping on her laces She’s been to Paris, and to Rome And more exotic places But sadly, much to her

I can resist anything but temptation * You’ll never be left on the shelf Reclining there so provocatively In your skimpy white robe, Your golden-skinned body Shimmering with promise And perfectly formed.   How can I resist you –  And your enticing wickedness? ”Take me” You silently command.  And I am rooted to the spot Powerless.   I must have you now Lose myself in

The Long Sleep Years I slept, long and fettered My slow-motion life This weariness, a leaden cloak My line of sight Blurred by wine and circumstance My hopes and dreams, for want of nurturing Crushed and wounded It took the wisdom of a trusted mentor, A poet’s watchful eye, And an angel’s guiding hand To

Comfort Eating “I’m leaving!” He declared “Life isn’t always a bowl of cherries living with you, Florentine!” “You’re so selfish” He added As he headed for the door                                                      

Autumnal Equinox Yesterday, I watched A proud, defiant sun Rise above the cool, grey sea. I felt the chill of summer’s passing Only briefly, As a hundred Swarovski crystals Danced among the glassy waves In rays of light Like theatre. A magical day, as long as night The Autumn Equinox come at last Reminds me