Christmas Day 2023 Limerick

Christmas Day Limerick 2023 

Christmas Day’s done so that's that
Watching TV and growing fat
With Midwives and Menders
and a shock in Eastenders
but my favourite was Tabby McTat


Richard Ashen

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Welcome

   Welcome to the South Chingford Poetry Blog! If this is you first visit, then you may wish to  view the preamble  first, to see how and why the blog was developed. If you have visited before, you may prefer to  proceed directly to the list of poems  available for reading. Some people prefer to listen to poems being read out to them, rather than reading them, so recordings have been added in some cases (the links are at the beginning). Navigation through the blog is entirely via hyperlinks, which in general appear as blue text. Just click on these to follow where they lead (on a computer, the cursor shape changes to a hand when you hover over a link). At the end of each poem, there is a "RETURN TO LIST OF POEMS" hyperlink, which facilitates moving from reading or listening to one poem, to another. Thank you to all the contributors for allowing me to post their work. Enjoy!                     ...
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List of Poems

To read or listen to any poem, just click on its title below A Poem                                                                                           Anon What a Difference a Year Makes                                    Frank L Ashen Being Ninety - - - If only ...                                               Frank L Ashen Eighty Five                                                         ...
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South Chingford Spring 2020

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  Early on during the first lockdown in 2020, the King Lear Prizes competition was announced (so called because Shakespeare  wrote "King Lear"  during sporadic outbreaks of the plague in 1605 and 1606). This was open to contributions from those 70 and over, in the categories of short story, music, and poetry. This poem was my entry, based on very personal and local experiences at that time :  Listen to recording SOUTH CHINGFORD SPRING 2020 The line of senior stoics moves slowly past the trees whose beauteous blossom white trembles gently in the breeze. Till eventually, bit by bit, the queue disperses in the store, while nearby 406 traffic thunders past with mighty roar. Once inside we quietly shop while warily keeping our distance, two metres it is, who can forget, but announcements give assistance. When on our daily walk, one is allowed, most roads are near deserted. Pedestrian crossings now redundant, no crowds, just people skirted. To keep apart,...
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