SOMETIMES I THINK-ANTHOLOGY 2005

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SOMETIMES I THINK Sometimes I think…...but then….. maybe not I try to remember…....but,……now I’ve forgot Sometimes I think.. ……of the days of my youth Maybe the fantasy gets mixed with the truth Sometimes I think of friends, …are they now gone? Some maybe dead, …...but I can’t think  which one Sometimes I think…….of happy days now gone by Then I had a partner….. I can’t find her now, I wonder why. Sometimes I think… ah, ….…well maybe she’s gone Now the doors opened….well… maybe I was wrong Sometimes I think…. it must  be awful to be all alone But then shadows flit by,…ah… maybe it was no one. Sometimes I think…someone’s just given me a nod Now I’m meditating… why…....am I waiting for God Sometimes I think …..with my life, what have I done Oh, the doors closed where have they all gone.                                                                          Majinka Brocklehurst

THE BLACKPOOL JAZZ CLUB  1957-1990

Put out the lights, lock the door

Our old Jazz Club is no more

The jazz soaked walls have heard the last

Of small groups, and big band blast

For forty years we had such pleasure

Full houses and star names to treasure

But gradually, as the membership got older

They stayed by their firesides, as the nights grew colder

 The young people just did not come in

They prefer the sounds of Pop’s three note din

Of twanging guitars and lyrics so bad

The music scene these days makes me feel sad

 Now Country and Westerns’ taken over our room

At the present time it’s enjoying a boom

Fat fellas and lean women, in jeans and old togs

Sing of fifties Chevies and Old Hound Dogs.

 Now a little sad, we all sit at home and play

Our records of Satchmo, Duke and Lady Day

Of Eddie Condon’s band, having a jazz band ball

And Benny Goodman’s concert, at Carnegie Hall.

                                                                         Don Wright

THE HIGH FLYER Through the cold wet silent streets there shuffled a tramp. He knew tonight. the pavements were far too damp to give rest to his weary bones, tonight a park bench his bier. as he shuffled he thought of the days when he’d been a high flier. Back in his youth in the eighties during the Thatcher regime had flash cars, nice house, he’d traded in futures, now all a dream. Gone forever, the yuppie had thought it could last but the bubble had burst, and he didn’t get out fast His world had tumbled and he’d lost it all, First the car, then the house, he’d gone to the wall. And now as he shuffled past pillar and post remembering the times when he’d had the most of the good life, realizing it was now all gone. He quietly muttered Oh Margaret, Margaret where did I go wrong. Majinka Brocklehurst

A STARLIT NIGHT

Tonight,  I  am a free spirit gazing at a starlit sky,

And as I meditate, I dream, my memories fly by,

of times when, under other tropical starlit nights

We made love, and our expectations took flights

of fantasy when we soared high on gossamer wings

For then we loved and did such wonderful things

But  now there’s only a dream under this starlit sky.

and in my dream I beg,  take me away, again let me fly,

For now I am alone,  I need a reason for our love's end,

someone tell me why I’ve lost my dearest friend.

But in my dream she is again under some starlit sky

And she too is asking the same question… why oh why?

Then she whispers ‘my love, did you flee

Or are we separated forever for, we

are both victims of the tsunami.

                                         Majinka Brocklehurst