Poetry Blog by Dorinda MacDowell

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MortimerBlooming on They Hadn't Learned (1 day ago)

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dorinda macdowell on Art Gallery, Stockport - A Tribute (8 days ago)

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Philipos on Art Gallery, Stockport - A Tribute (10 days ago)

M.C. Newberry on Old Man's Communion with a Young Man (Wed, 13 Feb 2019 04:02 pm)

poemagraphic on Old Man's Communion with a Young Man (Wed, 13 Feb 2019 12:30 pm)

Big Sal on Two Boys (Mon, 30 Jul 2018 05:26 pm)

dorinda macdowell on Two Boys (Mon, 30 Jul 2018 05:19 pm)

Big Sal on Two Boys (Sun, 29 Jul 2018 02:06 pm)

They Hadn't Learned

Noticed two little kids playing in the park.

One child was black, one child was white.

They were happy; totally engrossed in their play.

They hadn't learned how to hate.

Lovely to see. It gave me hope.

And I wondered:

What could we learn from them?


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Art Gallery, Stockport - A Tribute


Art Gallery, Stockport – A Tribute


It’s almost hallowed, the ambience

within your lofty halls


A kindly air of learning,

of knowledge sought and gained,

of shared imaginations


It is a place where creativity is celebrated,

where a passion for the arts

and a love of the written word

find their being


A serene birthing place


It is a treasur...

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Hi All

I have written something which I hope is uplifting, and a silly haiku. They're attached. Hope you like them!

A Gift


I have a word to say to you

to bless, and to uplift.

There is no charge for what I say,

because it is a gift.


When hard times come, and come they will,

and right now springs to mind,

my heavenly Father waits for you,

His ear to you incli...

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At end of day, man on his knees,

Cried out to God “Lord, help me please!

My sins are dark, that much is plain –

How can you pardon me again?”


And, like God’s kiss upon his face,

He heard “I am the God of grace”



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Old Man's Communion with a Young Man

Old Man's Communion with a Young Man


We talked, you and me:

you in the spring of your life;

mine almost fully drained,

yet it’s dregs, sweet still –

Always hope, eternal, they say: that is mine.

Is it misplaced? I cannot tell –

yet I cling to it. It is mine, that hope.


Embrace your young days, young man, I say;

they will not come again.


I reach the end:...

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Another Day (Foolishness Themed Blog) 1-4-2018

Another Day (Write Out Loud 1-4-2018) – Foolishness


Another Day


The clattering on the cobbles

of clogs, now fade away

and dark November dawn brings

another bitter day


of making do; attempting

to keep all her kids fed,

determined they should never

again, go starved to bed


And, as for her, her hand shakes

as she fills up the pot:

a cup of tea: ...

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Spring - A Sonnet

Please would you re-send this for me? - I was a little hasty in sending when there was an error in there! My sincere apologies! - Dorinda


Spring – A Sonnet


Oh bitter wind of winter, never may

Your chilling hostile grip invade the soul

Which is my essence, longs for warmer day

Forbid it be it was my hope you stole


Your predecessor, russet autumn breeze,


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Spring - A Sonnet


Spring – A Sonnet



Oh bitter wind of winter, never may

Your chilling hostile grip invade the soul

Which is my essence, longs for warmer day

Forbid it be it was my hope you stole


Your predecessor, russet autumn breeze,

Fortelling your harsh entrance, deeply grim,

Both overtaking summer’s breath, allied,

Conspire together to sing nature’s hymn


Most ...

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I’m hard-up, poor

I look it

So I keep my head down

And shuffle, carefully not touching

Beautiful, clever people:
They must be

Beautiful and clever

To be so rich


Thank God – - -

Is there one? – - -

I’m not yet about to

Sit outside McDonalds

With an open cap

And a dog


Summer’s good: nice and warm.

Winter’s better.

I’m shamed.


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Her Present Darkness

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Two Boys

Two Boys


The first small boy,

quite full of joy,

got answers from

his good Grand-Mum:

She did not look awry

when he asked “Grandma, why?” –

but answered truthfully:

a happy boy was he!


The second boy was sad;

a very tearful lad –

and, hearing such a crier,

people would stop to enquire:

“Small boy, why do you cry?”…

Each time, the sad reply:


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Nice July 2016


Nice July 2016


France, I salute you

You should never witness

such barbarity

You are beautiful:

every boulevard,

every humble, small, rue,

every field, every square,

every grande avenue

speak the beauty that’s you –

France, I stand with you:

with your people.

They are strong,

will withstand

vile attacks on your land

Your spirit of joie de vie


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My "Why?" is rather different to the recent entry bearing the same title.....


I wrote ‘Why?’ with a humble spirit, with a dim yet acute awareness of how Jewish people have suffered for so long, at the hands of so many, in so many senseless, cruel ways. I cannot possibly understand their suffering, but I can empathise: this was written not to offend all those whose suffering will mark th...

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Baby otters are wonderful creatures

So I've often heard it said

They brush their teeth without demur

Before they go to bed

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Paris, 13 November 2015

Paris, 13 November 2015


I weep for you, Paris,

Every beautiful boulevard,

Every humble street

Whose pavements so often have welcomed my feet –


Every drop of blood shed;

Every beating heart dead;

Every au revoir said –


Your heart-beat is mine, too:

Paris, I weep for you –


And WE say to hate: you will never destroy

Good. And we SHALL sing for joy ...

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Nonsense Rhymes (Two)

Having been denied a day in Marsden last Sunday, I sat at home and nursed my cold, the cause of my non-appearance there, and read some Hilaire Belloc: wonderful! I was thus inspired to write the following (no literary merit at all, but I had great fun scribbling!) Hope you enjoy:


Baby otters are wonderful creatures,

I've often heard it said.

They brush their teeth without demu...

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Why Is It?

Why Is It?


Why is it always on a Tuesday

I fancy egg fried rice?

Or chicken with cashew nuts?

When sweet and sour sounds nice?


When fish and chips don’t grab me,

Nor sausages and mash,

Not baked spud with a salad,

Nor good old corned beef hash?



It’s really quite frustrating

And quite the cruellest cut:

It’s always on a Tuesday

Our Chinese chi...

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Notes following meeting Mon 14 Oct 2013

Hi Maggie, John and Nigel

A palindrome is "a word or phrase that reads the same backwards as forwards, eg: madam".

William Ross Wallace 1819 - 1881 (Wallace was my Mum's maiden name so maybe I have some sort of illustrious ancestor?!) wrote "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Rules The World". I've just printed it off as it really is rather beautiful (and John, it rhymes!!!)

Last of all...

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Upside Down In The Sink


Upside Down in the Sink


Once again this week, I espied a wonderful notice,

this time in a Stockport café

which was an absolute delight to read….

It was along these lines (more or less as it was written):


“All staff to rinse out tea pots

and stand upside-down in the sink”


Well! A poem begging to be written

and here it is:




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As the bus I was travelling on slowed down on the A6, I noticed a sign outside an antique dealers shop which read “Antique Customer Parking” with an arrow pointing to the back of the shop. It just begged to be developed into a poem, and this is it, for your delectation! - - -


That sign read “Antique Customer Parking”

With an arrow to say

Park you...

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Praise His Name With Dancing


“Praise His Name With Dancing”


Thomas went a-dancing

One sunny Sunday morn,

All up and down the hall, for

They did not have a lawn


Quite like the Vicar had, which

Was grand, and never trod

Upon by dancing children.

Or young-at-heart – or God…..


And Thomas kept on dancing

Until he heard the call:

“It’s time for church, so Thomas...

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Ee Love




“Ee, love, what a sad time to meet –

You could have knocked me right off me feet

When I heard about your Stan –

Such a lovely, lovely, man…


He was all but in his prime –

Well, we all must go sometime –

Ee, love, now, don’t take on so:

Here’s a clean hanky: now bear up, you know

Time will heal…..Eh, your Stan –

Such a kind, lov...

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Christmas Tree


Christmas Tree



It’s blurred, that big, bright red bauble

On my Christmas tree:

It’s reflected in the frame

Which holds your photograph

In pride of place

On my window sill………


I think

How its outline should be

Crisp and clear

And so it is

When I look closely at it;

So it’s not my tears

That are making it blurred…..



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New Beginnings


New Beginnings


She looked, longingly, up that steep hill:

It was summer still –

Favoured summer smiled on her:

Her heart joined forces with her will –


She knew, sure as the summer sun

Shone bright that day,

All the world – it was hers –

She held all in her sway –



Brave beginnings! – ah, well! –

That glorious day beckoned,


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Me and My Nana





Me and my Nana

Go to the park

And make daisy chains

-          When it’s spring


Me and my Nana

Run very fast and jump up

And try to catch

The sunbeams from the sky

-          When it’s summer


Me and my Nana

Walk down our lane

Add kick up all the golden leaves

-          When it’s autumn



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Another Nail in Culture's Coffin

I feel so strongly about the possible closure of the Art Gallery and its effect upon all of us, I wrote the following: a little harsh, perhaps, for me? - but 'to myself I must be true'......!....


Hammer down the lid, lads! -

Give it a good clout! -

Make sure timeless words and

Culture don't get out!




I will give the response form some thought and...

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Silken Threads

It was cold in Grandma's attic:

Like the chill of her last rest -

How I loved her! - and her dying

Left me sad, alone, depressed -


And the key that she left for me

To her wooden, japanned, chest

Now unlocked what was my portion:

Now, could my soul find its rest?....


In that chest, a vast profusion

Of many a gorgeous evening gown,

And the silke...

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A Boy And His Dog

The day was clear, and still,

Summer was almost gone,

From my window, I saw

How bright the sun shone


Upon this small, fair boy

Walking along the way;

And in his hand, a lead,

Holding his dog at bay -


The boy looked poor: his clothes,

Poor too - his trainers worn -

But when I saw his face,

It was not sad, forlorn...


And right then...

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Lost Spring

Sweet lies, promise of spring;

Seductive skies of blue -

My mind so full of you...

Love lost, on angels' wing...


How soft my heart would sing

When love was vibrant, new -

My all I brought to you -

Now, tears my offering -


I shall not greet you, spring:

I shall not heed your call -

For pain is all you bring -

And I have lost my all......


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Billy Brown

Billy Brown, you're a rogue

With your wandering eyes

And your soft, lilting brogue

And your plausible sighs....


Billy Brown, there's no doubt

This I know, certain, sure

How I've felt many a clout

And I've dodged many more


From your big, heavy fist

When the drink made you mad -

Next day, sorry, you kissed

Me, repentant and sad




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"To Thine Own Self"

“To Thine Own Self”

(Hamlet: Shakespeare)



No offence to the Bard,

But I found it quite hard

When composing a sonnet

My face had a frown on it….


His iambic pentameter

Could not have been sweeter –

Mine should have been neater….


His verse flowed like sweet wine,

Every word quite divine –

Rough and ready, was mine!




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howeverI stand by the words therein!it was actually a good challenge attempting to writhe above was written tongue-in-cheekWrote this today following our Stockport Write Out

The Boy On The Beach

The Boy on the Beach




The boy sat cross-legged on the sands;

His bony knees held in his hands,

His hair, all tousled by the breeze

Which blew in from the open seas.


His countenance was not of joy;

Quite the reverse, for this small boy

Looked rather sad. He heaved a sigh

And rubbed at his now leaking eye.


The sun was very bright th...

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The Woman in the Corner Shop

The Woman at the Corner Shop


The woman at the corner shop

By name of Bella Blenkinsop -

A stout and sturdy woman, who

Sold Pegrams tea and dolly blue -


And firelighters and penny chews

And copies of the Evening News

And Woodbines, packs of five, and Twink

Home perms, to make the men-folk wink


In short, she sold most everything

From a mop...

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Persecuting Pensioners plc

 Persecuting Pensioners plc


Persecuting Pensioners plc:

Our unofficial name, you see –

For actually we find it fun

To persecute most everyone –

But pensioners are best of all:

They think that we must know it all –

Whereas many a younger client might

Retaliate, put up a fight.


So many ways to persecute

Those old folk, and increase our loot


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after several unnecessary hiccups with them!reallyWith apologies to those of you who work for the 't


I Hated Being Outdated



They said our library was outdated

So now we’ve gone all automated - - -

Well, I don’t like it: sounds absurd! –

Once, I enjoyed a civil word


With the librarian at the counter:

Such a pleasant, nice encounter! –

All that’s gone! – and, dearie me,

We’ve gone all high-tech and IT –


And poor old Martha Plumton-Scot...

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Proud as a Peacock

Proud as a Peacock


On Sat’day, went to the market –

And stopped for some tea and a bun –

I sat in the old market café –

Glad all of the shopping was done.


The day was all drizzly and dreary

With nothing much lovely to see

When this young man strolled to the counter:

And how everyone stared – even me!


He was dressed, head to toe, in black gar...

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Muriel and Me

I wrote this following a writing workshop in Stockport. It was prompted when we were asked at break time if we would like a cup of tea.




Muriel and Me


A cuppa tea?

- For Muriel and me?

- Make it G&T…

And if it’s no trouble,

Please make it a double….




These writing classes are superb:

We learn about the written word –


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Hope springs eternal, or so they say –

Sometimes I wonder, as each new day

Brings unseen headaches. If I could see

Them onward winging, then I would be


Ready, and armoured; equipped for the fight –

But they are devious, and I take flight

From all their torment, all unannounced

Knocking me backwards, nastily pounced

For new attack,...

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I Thought I Was Different

 I Thought I was Different




Mum’s lined face,

Slightly smiling

Thus betrays

Inner feelings;

Buried rage.


Never, I swore,

Never for me

The pain, the torment –

Long shadows I see

Casting dark clouds of loathing

Over every last reach

Of faint hopes of

A calmer, brighter day.


I thought I’d escaped

Those hurtf...

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The Two Sides of Pride

The Two Sides of Pride



Church tells us all “pride is a sin”,

And so it is, when from within,

We think more than perhaps we ought

Of ourselves: that’s not what God taught.




He paused. He looked bewildered

Outside the pawn shop door –

His shabby jacket threadbare –

His boots all cracked, and poor.


At outstretched palm ...

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A Little Touch of Heaven

A Little Touch of Heaven




They bring their priceless tokens

Of fondest love, for me –

A smile, a tear, a flower:

What greater gift could be?


I do not seek expensive,

Vast gifts, for all to see:

Those two young boys’ affection

Is worth the world to me!


Far greater is their giving:

What greater love could be? –

When, breathl...

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