In the quiet of the evening

When the world is lulled to rest,

I find wonderful contentment

For I put aside my quest,

I forget the day now ended

And the things that came to be,

For the magic peace of silence

Has taken hold of me.


Worries leave my mental storehouse

Just like birds upon the wing,

And deep inside my heart I find

A tender song to sing,

As the great big ball of fire

Sinks into horizons blue,

There is beauty sent from heaven

That my eyes are blessed to view.


I believe God made the evening

So that man could realise,

The reason for his being here

Beneath the tranquil skies,

So whenever I am able

In the evening light I pray,

To gain the strength I need to face

The cares that come with day.



* * * * * * * * * * * *


Life’s a supermarket

With shelves that can contain

Chaos and confusion,

Worry, grief and pain.

Keep looking for the bargains,

And surely you will find

A measure of real pleasure,

On the shelf marked ‘peace of mind’.

Gloom is there a plenty,

But its value must be curbed

Let it lie beneath the counter

And remain there undisturbed.

Long before the final check out,

The incentive’s there to see….

Seek the shelf marked ‘happiness’,

It’s on offer and it’s FREE.




* * * * * * * * * * * *



To break a bad habit,

To love an enemy,

To think logically,

To admit ignorance,

To withhold judgement,

To grow old gracefully,

To persevere without haste,

To wait without impatience,

To suffer without complaint,

To know when to keep silent,

To be indifferent to ridicule,

To concentrate in the midst of strife,

To endure hatred without resentment,

To fraternise without losing individuality,

To serve without compensation, commendation, recognition.



* * * * * * * * * * * *


Gerald played at full-back for the school;

A big, strong boy with a kick like a mule.

In one game he stopped; his lace was undone.

"Tie it up, lad, the game’s going on."

Gerald stooped and tied his lace,

Took one step - and fell flat on his face.

That’s what happens when one lace is tied

To a lace from the boot on the other side!

Brian Sumner


* * * * * * * * * * * *



Eye halve a spelling chequer

It came with my pea sea.

It plainly marques four my revue

Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.


Eye strike a key and type a word

And weight four it two say

Weather eye am wrong oar write,

It shows me strait a weigh.


As soon as a mist ache is maid

It nose bee fore two long

And eye can put the error rite,

It’s rarely ever wrong.


Eye have run this poem threw it:

I am shore your pleased two no

It’s letter perfect in its weigh,

My chequer tolled me sew!