SILVERPOETS    -    WINNERS  CIRCLE                                    Page 4 June 2006:                                                                                   COUNTRY  STATION           It's quiet here now. No waiting room On a winter morning. A friendly nod, Quiet chat, Round an open fire. No baggage room Bustling and proud Bags, boxes, portmanteau, Tickets and smiles, Preparations for travel. No Railway Cafe Selling fruit slice With pink icing. Clattering cups of tea, Real cup and saucer. No uniformed guard With red flag And whistle Helping all to board With smile and friendly word. No noisy train Champing at the bit Wanting to be off On a voyage to adventure! Do I hear the whistle? No excited passengers, They too have gone. Not even anticipation left To cheer the quiet hours. They've closed the station down.                                          by  Dawn                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Judge's comments: Most of this poem is about activity, giving us the sights, the sounds, the excitement, that the station once radiated.  This serves to augment the feeling of loss. 'It's quiet here now',  but not peaceful - there is an atmosphere of emptiness, deepened by the repetition of 'no'. As we consider the poem we are led to further thought.  What else in our lives may become part of a lost past? There is a natural rhythm when read aloud, and some words give out the sounds they portray,  as in clattering cups. The echoing of sounds, 'bustling, bags, boxes', 'voyage, adventure' and so on add to the poetic effect. The first line and last make a perfect link as the poem comes full circle.   Congratulations! Winner's choice of prize:    DVD "The Brittas Empire" Series 4 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- July 2006:                                                                                    THE  BOTTLE               Aunt Prudence wasn't ugly, but she certainly was plain,        And beaux had never lined up for her hand.        She lived her life in fantasy that some dark handsome swain        Would someday take her to her promised land.        She'd have a crystal castle high above a turquoise sea        On a verdant land beneath a gentle sky.        And she'd listen to soft music while she sipped her morning tea        While soft breezes through the frangipanis sigh.        She often-times confided in Sir Lancelot; her cat,        How her prince would someday wander by her side...        And carry her; compliant; to her cosy castle flat,        And there she would become his blushing bride.        The small beach was deserted where she strolled with her black cat        And he looked around with baleful yellow eyes.        In the surf was a small bottle, very close to where she sat,        And she picked it up amid the seagulls' cries..        It was old, and stoppered tightly shut, and badly battered too,        And had floated in the sea for many years.        She struggled with the stopper that seemed held in place by glue,        When released the giant filled her heart with fears...        It was, of course, a Genie, as is known around the world        That appeared within a cloud of crimson smoke.        "Three wishes ma'am, is all you get, for getting me unfurled,        So make it quick, this isn't any joke!"        She told him shyly of her dream of love and wealth and lust,        On an island floating in a limpid sea,        And of the handsome prince in whom she could place all her trust,        "And he will worship no one else but me!"        The Genie looked for objects to complete the task at hand,        A nearby rock became the verdant isle.        Some driftwood formed the castle, high above the golden sand,        The cat became a prince in regal style.        And so they came to keep their tryst above the azure sea,        He gazed into her eyes and held her near..      Her loving eyes said "take me now", a soft unspoken plea..        But glinting in his eye; a single tear...        He gazed upon her slender form, with tender love undying,        "I'll do my best", he said, "but I'm afraid...        That life would be so happy, and a lot more satisfying        If just last year, you hadn't had me spayed...                              by   Frank Halliwell                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Judge's Comments: A story in verse, this is written in rhythm and perfect rhyme, both of which are unforced and sound natural. This poem opens with a line that catches the interest, and progresses well to a closure that carries impact, a 'twist in the tail'.  As well as imagery and action there is some very poetic alliteration which, because of the humour of the piece, does not seem overdone, even with lines like "And carry her; compliant; to her cosy castle flat." Rather than detract, this adds to the humour.  Well done! Winner's choice of prize:    Set of "Live" Linux CDs -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back to: HOME  Back to: Hobbies & Games     Back to: Silverpoets (3)     Forward to:  Silverpoets (5)