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life and love


dv cooper
Who was D.B. Cooper, it’s a name you may not know,
On his death bed he admitted a crime committed many years ago,
The crime was most unusual, being the first of its kind,
If you consider the facts an unusual story you will find.
A Boeing 727 was flying from Portland to Seattle in 1971,
On board were thirty six passengers and crew,
A passenger told the stewardness that a high jacking was taking place,
That she must listen carefully whilst he told her what to do.
He opened his case to reveal cylinders joined by wires,
That he had a bomb was very plain to see,
The stewardess was told to inform the pilot of the fact,
And that their co-operation would guarantee their safety.
The pilot was told to land as normal in Seattle ,
The passenger were set free as soon as the plane landed,
The crew however were not aloud to leave the plane,
It was then that a ransom was demanded.
The hijacker asked 200,000 dollars and a parachute,
Which the authorities decided was a small price to pay,
In return a promise was given that the plane and crew would be safe,
So the ransom was paid, and the plane took off without delay.
The first orders were to fly the plane to Mexico ,
But soon after take off the orders were changed,
The pilot was ordered to reduce height and speed and to open the rear door,
The hijacker jumped when everything had been arranged.
The police knew the area where he must have landed,
It was an area which contained a lot of marshy ground,
They thought that he might have been killed on landing,
But in spite of a widespread search he was never found.
His thin clothing and the atrocious weather conditions,
Made it very unlikely that he could survive,
But after months of searching without finding his body,
The police had to assume that he was still alive.
The numbers on the ransom money had been recorded,
It was hoped that when it was spent it would provide a clue,
But none of it was ever found in circulation,
After a few years the police decided they had other things to do.
In 1977 D.B Cooper married, but used a different name,
His wife had no idea of the crime he had committed,
They lived a peaceful normal happy life together,
It was only on his deathbed that his guilt was admitted.
His wife was surprised and told the police of his admission,
They must have been happy that the truth at last was known,
They could not understand why the money had not been spent,
So the reason for the crime is still unknown.
Thirty years after the hi jacking a young boy playing in the area where the hijacker landed found a bundle of 50-dollar notes, which had been part of the ransom money.
It is possible that the rest of the money was lost in the marshy ground, which would explain why none of it was spent.
Ron Martin

Tear drop rolling down my face – Promote Yourself


Tear drop rolling down my face’ through a haze eyes so glazed’ through a sadness of despair ‘ into madness every where.
Darkness falls each night’ where people are out of sight’ where places are so strange’ an every one out of range.
Where no sound can be heard’ not even a twitter from a bird’ where no life can be seen’ not even in a stream’ in this land that I found ‘ its so quiet and profound.
I must go’ its a must’ this land is full of dust.

Patricia bourne WordPress 2014.

Demon Dialers-promote yourself

A Blink of an Eye – Promote Yourself



To celebrate the launch of the Canal & River Trust, renowned English poet Ian McMillan

has written ‘Canal Life’.

Ian McMillan, renowned English poet
Ian McMillan, renowned English poet

 The canal tells you stories

The canal sings you songs

They hang in that space

Between memory and water


Once saw a narrowboat raised up,

Like it was cutting through the air,

Between two grass walls and the road below

Like it was sliding through history,

And a tiny vole swam across the water

So a tiny vole swam through history.


The canal tells you stories,

The canal sings you songs


Once saw a man floating belly up in a canal

Like he was in the bath. He shouted

‘This is the life’ as I passed by on a narrowboat;

The sky was reflected in the surface

And we tied up in the places the map never showed us,

The man floating by, making ripples on the surface.


They hang in that space

Between memory and water


Once got waved at by a jogger as I stood gongoozling

On the towpath; her running  gave rhythm

To the early afternoon, dog-strollers and kids

Who’d rather be here than sitting in school.

To gongoozle is to stand and watch narrowboats pass

And a canal is a lesson, a water-based school.


The canal tells you stories

The canal sings you songs


Once these canals were information highways

If coal and iron can be information,

And I think they can be. And there are bridges,

Pub gardens, the laughter of children

As they walk by the water; and the canals

Turn us all into curious children.


They hang in that space

Between memory and water


Once is never enough for a canal, I reckon;

You need to go back and see it again,

And sail it again, and smell it again, and

Touch it again; canals run through our veins

Like they stroll through this country

Like blood through our veins.


The canal tells you stories

The canal sings you songs

They hang in that space

Between memory and water

Ian McMillan




On Sheltered Words


The Starting End – Promote Yourself



Tongues That Tie Cherry Stalks and the Eaters of the Cherry – Promote Yourself


“The Chimney Sweeper,” from Songs of Innocence -Famous Poet-William Blake


When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ” ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep!’ “
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved: so I said,
“Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head’s bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.”

And so he was quiet, & that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned & Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
He’d have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

………………………………………William Blake



As the tires hum I grip the wheel

Through miles of barren landscape,

My wife, daughters make the sound of sleep

As the emptiness rushes by,

I am alone in this desolate land

With only my thoughts for company,

The San Joaquin Valley stretches along

This ribbon of road,

On the CD player, Jonatha Brooke

Sings her sad, soulful songs,

I am so far away from home

As the sun lowers behind the distant mountains,

Wherever I travel, or choose to exist

I long for the home

I fear I may never find,

There is something inside

That I do not understand

That will not permit peace,

A happy family is mine

But conflict and emptiness still possess me,

Forever alone.

Walt Trizna

Come show thy Durham Breast – Your Favourite Poem



Come show thy Durham Breast
To her who loves thee best,
Delicious Robin—
And if it be not me
At least within my Tree
Do the avowing—
Thy Nuptial so minute
Perhaps is more astute
Than vaster suing—
For so to soar away
Is our propensity
The Day ensuing—

Emily Dickinson



A Farewell to Cardinal Egan – Promote Yourself



White Thing, The Blank Page – Promote Yourself


My name is Emma Ware, and the link to my WordPress site, The Smiley Poet’s Thoughts, is 
I’m fairly new to your website but I already love what you do. The quality of content you give is amazing.
I was hoping to submit one of my poems to you for your perusal, and I hope it’s good enough to share.
I am a 21 year old university student whose dreams only involve using words in some way to help people. I want to write and read, and nothing else. Poetry has always been a passion for me and I adore the pursuit of the written verse. I am a Christian, so much of my work has to do with faith and the inner struggles that come with it. I also write about writing, which is the subject of the piece I am submitting.


Majesty – Promote Yourself

Proud trumpets of daffodils on diases of green bathe

In shafts of sunlight through the window pane glazed

Flowers discreet but radiant. Sublime, reigning supreme


On the lounge table they sit, jewels in winter but a dream

From their crystal blue vase they cheer the room

Even in the late evening they majestically bloom


Outside, plentiful daffodils, their comrades, to cool music sway

Their sworn duty to chase the last frosts out of sight, far away

Whether indoors or out, listen closely as their trumpets play a fanfare soft

Announcing that to new life and spring they point with their heads aloft.

Joanne Hayle

Flowers on a lamppost

Flowers on a lamp-post

A loving display

Tributes to a loved one

Whose life was taken away

Why did it happen?

For it`s tearing me apart

The pain that I am feeling

It`s breaking my heart

I keep on thinking if only

These things are within my head

If only they had been somewhere else

They would still be alive not dead

Oh God where were you?

When your help was needed most

If you had been with them

No flowers would be on the post


My child of the material

I sense and feel your pain

I have not failed you

For you will see them once again

I was with them when they needed me

I took them by the hand

I surrounded them with love and light

As we moved to the Summerland

Fear not for their safety

For their love for you will remain

For the bond of love is strongest

As they comfort you through your pain

When you look at the tributes

That you placed upon the post

Remember, I was with them

When they needed me the most

Malcolm Bradshaw

Fish And Chips


Has I walk down  Hastings promenade

I stand and watch the fishing trawler net cascade

Seagulls following right behind

Swooping, diving, seeing what they can find

Holiday makers eating chips

Seagulls watch with an eagle eye

Looking at their fish and chips

Or any odd food bits

They will dive, and swoop,

Take a sandwich from your hand

Politeness they do not understand

They will come from miles

To pinch your chips

Happily on your head they will sit

If you come to Hastings or St Leonard on sea

Don’t forget seagulls love fish and chips

Just like you and me

Thomas Sims

MY FADING INK… – Promote Yourself

Is my last safe refuge
From the cold dark pits of my now weakened heart
I was once reminded that resolve needs revival
A forward momentum of momentary standstill
And Suppose you know the formula of fraternity
To forever form a feeling of friendship
Forever eternity
A summoning of souls seals the silence
Of the now lost lambs
As love leaves laughing “lackadaisically”
Hate has migrated to distant lands



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