Poetry Corner - The Cancer Support Group

The Circle

Five ladies and one gentleman

Meet at the village hall

Set out the Woods Ware, Beryl green

At the hatch in the wall

One fills the tea urn, jug by jug

Another unpacks bags

Bringing leaf tea, milk and biscuits

A box of small name tags

Others set out red plastic chairs

Clanking metallic legs

They put them in a tight circle

Next to empty coat pegs

The table in the middle holds

Tissues in a card box

Amidst the Beryl green china

A stop clock steadily tocks

Five ladies and one gentleman

Sit and begin to chat

They share tea and their own dying

Among jumble sale tat

Sarah Miller Walters

I have a new poetry collection available to download from Amazon for 99p. 'The Wooden Spoon Under the Bed' is a collection of 15 poems inspired by problem page letters of the 1940s and 1950s. Click the link below to find out more:

Click here

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The Curious Case of the Whitminster Village Hall Thief

This article is copied from The Illustrated Police News, 14 February 1935: Judge Thanked "Thank you very much, sir, I've got off very light." Remarked John Moore, 76, when sentenced by Mr Justice Hawke at Gloucester Assizes to six months imprisonment on charges of breaking into Whitminster Village Hall and stealing articles valued at 4 shillings and 6 pence. There was a term of 344 days remaining of a previous sentence, and Moore was told that he would have to serve that time. P.S. (Police Sergeant) Howkins revealed that since 1904 Moore had been continually in and out of prison. Since that time he had been sentenced seven times to penal servitude, involving in all 23 years. In addition, he was in 1927 sentenced to four years imprisonment and had served further sentences most of them in respect of house breaking. Moore's last sentence was three year's penal servitude. Moore handed in a statement to the judge, beginning "I most respectfully wish t...

The Ode to the Village Hall

I hope that some of my own poems that I have published on this blog have raised a smile of recognition. But I’m not the first to write poetry inspired by village halls. Back in 1936, the Warwick Advertiser published an article about a Mr Smith, who had written a poem about the village hall at Hatton. This was so well received by friends and family, that he had 401 copies printed, and he sold them for a pound apiece. The profits were divided between the church fund and the working men’s club fund. Hatton Village Hall - the charming inspiration Happily for us, the Warwick Advertiser saw fit to publish Mr Smith’s acrostic: T his grand village hall which can scare be surpassed H as been built by one to remember those passed E ver thoughtful of others, kind friend of us all V ery ready to help and obey duty’s call I n summer or winter, in sunshine or rain L ending a hand without seeking to gain L ooking after the sick and helping the weak A nd a kind cheery s...

The Story of a Harvest Tea, 1945

Extract from “The Countryman” journal, Spring 1946 At the end of the casual workers’ season last year we had as usual our harvest tea. The “boughten” cakes must have been fairly good; and the bread and butter was helped down by some home-made preserves and potted meat. Although it was a poor spread, things being as they are in the food line, our guests seemed to understand and enjoyed it…for decorations there were flags, and the words on a rather faded portrait flag stood out, “God bless Queen Victoria.” After the tea Harriet recited “The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck” and “Dare to be a Daniel”, and sang “The Bells of Aberdovey” and “Don’t Hang My Harry; You’ll Break His Poor Mother’s Heart.” During the applause the board placed on apple boxes for a seat collapsed. There was a bit of a mix-up and it was agreed that Polly, who weighs 15 stone, should have a box to herself. Up to this time young Tommy had had 10 cups of tea and 15 cakes, and Jim had dropped...

Woods Ware China at the Serving Hatch

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