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National Library for the Blind

I have just received an appeal from the N.I.B
Asking for money to provide books for those who cannot see
And whilst I have every sympathy with the plea
I ask myself why they have to rely on my generosity
For we live in a country claiming to improve education
And it’s distressing to hear of this case of deprivation
That the blind children have to plead for a donation
Is surely a blot on the character of our nation?
The blind children are desperately in need of books in Braille
And their provision is one in which we cannot afford to fail
For these books would help to fulfil their need
And in their adult life would help them succeed
If the government are sincere in their concern for those in need
This is one aspect in which they should intercede
To make available the funds for their education
So they can participate fully in the life of the nation
The blind are unable to join in many games and to enjoy the fun
And have never seen the beauty of the setting sun
The beauties of the world are something about which they have only heard
At the very least they should be able to enjoy the written word
Ron Martin




The day I lost my Angel,

I traded my love in for something repugnance,

And I by no means even put up a struggle

I never even spoke, Not even showing a

Single expression.

I just raised my arms towering to

The sky above, I just gave up

I ceased to distinguish who I was.

I became nothing, a soul I had

Never met or knew.

I had loved you, A feeling that

You out grew.

A love I never knew.

I never once considered the repercussions

Of my emotions

Or my thoughts.

It’s strange how a single ripple in the sea

Can work to transform everyone

And everything it comes in contact with.

Never leaving any inclination

Of its presence, or its effect

Upon the vision that is cast into

The waters of prospect.

Now I have nobody left,

No one and nothing at all.

Nothing in my                                                                

Heart or in my soul.

The graceful love I showed


But who am I to say.

I am just a guy at heaven’s gate                                            

With broken wings.

Hoping that today is the day I may get in.




“Gift Receipt”:


Awoke and Spoke – Promote Yourself





Our eyes are closed to many things,

We look and don’t always find,

For things that are important,

To our eyes are blind.


Like natures wonderful creation,

It was created for all to see,

For all the things He did create,

Were meant for you and me.


Open your eyes to suffering,

Open your eyes to pain,

Open your eyes to understanding,

So that you may see again.


We only see what we want to see,

The rest is hidden from view,

Seek out the truth and you will find,

Clear vision will come to you.


For your eyes that once were blinded,

Are now open so wide and clear,

So don’t be blinded by deception,

Jealousy or fear.


We are all Gods children,

Equal in every way,

Only man has failed,

That is why we have problems today.


So don’t be short sighted,

Thoughtless and blind,

Just open your eyes and be honest,

Be truthful, loving and kind.


And remember as you go through life,

Your eyes are there to survey,

Do not stumble in the darkness,

Don’t let problems get in the way.


Just ask for help,

And you will find,

Those that now see clearly,

Were the ones who once were blind?


 Malcolm Bradshaw

THE WRONG HOUSE – Promote Yourself


people sweeping dust
into another’s eyes
parents losing faith
upon their own child
father demands for medals
while the mother
wants credentials
But the boy
only wanted to paint
so he did
a portrait of him
on the wall,
on the wall 
that is crumbling down
Nipun Bajracharya

Probing Voices-promote yourself

 (something known enhanced/re-freshened by something new, gifted from a new-found friend and brother)

I Am The Shadow – Promote Yourself

I am the shadow,
I exist in a world of light,
Blending into the darkness of night.
My face you cannot see,
My expressions, sometimes misleading.
If you hear a whisper in the wind,
It may be me.
I am the shadow,
I exist in a world of sounds, good and bad.
Of laughter,
You think that I feel nothing,
No love,
No hate,
No anger,
No fear,
No pain.
But you are wrong.
You think that I do not cry,
But I weep silently.
You cannot see the tears that slide down my cheeks,
But they are there.
I am the shadow, you cannot touch,
Always within sight but never within reach.
I am the shadow, afraid to trust the light for it distorts me.
Please forgive me if I trick you,
I cannot control it.
I long to live in the light,
To be held and loved,
But I am only a silent shadow,
Watching but unable to take part in it all,
What others do, I can only dream of.
So I lurk in corners,
Always waiting for the night to come,
Always dying but never dead.
I am the shadow, I have no friends,
Even in a crowd, I’m all alone.
Existing in somber shades of gray,
A lonely shadow,
I’m doomed to stay.
By Joyce Savage, 1990.


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.
 Ron Martin
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.

PARIS SHOOTING – Promote Yourself


Refuse a Full Circle- Promote Yourself


Refuse a full circle
Spiral going viral
Moving on
Slinking and sliding
Or sidling along
Or inferencing
Drawn arcs
And settled new points
To start off again
In spiralling form
And still tired
But tested
And tried
So inspiral faith
Keep going

Cheryl Bhagwandin

CITY DEATH- Promote Yourself



Murdered by concrete

and polluted air,

Witness to city’s growth.

Yielding shade to sultry summers,

Forming crystalline sculptures in winter,

Morning droned with saws

A barren stump your marker

Death your reward.

Walt Trizna

Revealed: the only known poem by an adult Winston Churchill – 1874-1965


Winston Churchill in the uniform of the Fourth Queen’s Own Hussars and part of the poem entitled ‘Our Modern Watchwords’ 


The search lights twinkle on the sea

The silence of a mighty fleet

Portends the tumult yet to be.

The tables of the evening meal

Are spread amid the great machines

And thus with pride the question runs

Among the sailors and marines

Breathes there the man who fears to die

For England, Home, & Wai-hai-wai.

The poem makes reference to cities under the rule of the British Empire including Wai-hai-wai – Weihai in China – Sokoto in Nigeria and Karochaw in Japan.

It was acquired several years ago by Roy Davids, a retired rare manuscript dealer from Great Haseley in Oxfordshire.

Mr Davids, 70, said: “This is the only poem in Churchill’s handwriting as an adult. There is one at Harrow School but that was one he wrote as a boy and it was for a competition.

“The archive at the Churchill College at Cambridge University has never heard of another poem and that is a pretty certain statement.

“I don’t think it’s a bad effort. It is quite competent. It is quite rousing stuff and is an imperial celebratory poem that references cities that stretch the British Empire.

“It is interesting that more than 50 years after the death of the most famous Englishman of the 20th century, we are still discovering new aspects of his life.”

At the time of writing the poem, Churchill was serving as an army war correspondent – a position he chose in order to see the most possible battle. He served in countries including India, Cuba, Egypt and Sudan and wrote dispatches for the Daily Telegraph and the Morning Post.

The poem was produced before Churchill served in the Second Boer War, where he took part in the relief of the Siege of Ladysmith.

Allen Packwood, the director of the Churchill Archive Centre at Churchill College, Cambridge, said: “Of course he was a great writer and orator and he used poetry in some of his famous speeches.

“He was someone who was greatly influenced by poetry and was able to memorise and recite large parts of other people’s poetry.

“But it is rare to find a piece of poetry by him as an adult. I am not aware of any others that exist.

“Having read it, it seems to me that it was part-influenced by Kipling and Tennyson and the sort of poems he would have read at school. “

A spokesman for auctioneers Bonhams said: “We don’t of course usually think of Winston Churchill as a poet but perhaps we should not be surprised to find that he wrote verse.

“He was a man of many parts who, over the course of a long life, threw himself enthusiastically into a whole range of activities beyond his main calling as a politician and statesman.

“The work certainly provides a fascinating extra insight into the life of one of the country’s greatest figures.”

The poem has been given a conservative estimate of £15,000. It will be sold at auction on April 10.

The only known poem by an adult Winston Churchill, written as a young cavalry officer and describing marines on the eve of a naval battle, has come to light.

The wartime leader was an unrivalled speechwriter, prolific author and winner of the Nobel Prize for literature, but despite being a lover of poetry, he was only known to have written one poem, as a schoolboy at Harrow.

Now a 10-verse poem penned over two pages in blue crayon by Churchill while he was serving in the army has emerged for sale at auction in London.

The poem is a rousing celebration of the British Empire and of going to war to defend her, and describes anxious sailors and marines ahead of a battle. It is said to have been influenced by Kipling and Tennyson.

It is signed by Churchill and was written over two sides on the headed notepaper of his cavalry regiment, the 4th Hussars, in about 1898. He would have been 24 years old.

Two of the 10 stanza of the work, titled ‘Our Modern Watchwords’, read:


There was once two girls on the way to school,
They thought there was a possibility that they might be late,
One decided to stop and pray that she would get there on time,
The other prayed as she ran all the way to the gate.
There are many who believe in the power of prayer,
Others know that God will not do what we ourselves could achieve,
Working in close co-operation with God can be effective,
But this is a power which is only given to these who believe.
Prayer is two way communication with God,
In which we tell God what we require,
At the same time God will speak to us,
To tell us what we must do to get what we desire.
It really is important that we are prepared to play our part,
Otherwise the communication with God is one sided,
We should not expect God to do the things we ask,
Unless we are willing to follow the path which he has decided.
Which of the two little girls are you like?
The one who stops and kneels down to pray,
Or the one who gets on with the rest of your life,
Whilst praying that God will help you on the way.
Ron Martin

Two Petals – Time Will Tell – Promote Yourself


Threshold Of Prayer-Promote yourself



Where Do Babies Come From?


Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than anyone knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs’ wings.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here

~George MacDonald

How Do We Read


When you look upon the written word
How do you read what thought was sent
It isn’t the type or print that can influence
It is our own emotion, times we spent.


For black and white, possibly color added
The pages cannot give us the intent of heart
So why do we feel the words deep within
Can we know the end, reading from the start.


As we read the words that another has shared
We feel with the thoughts that we put to word
Not like a recording where we feel their emotion
The words read give us any emotion that is stirred.


Each has a reason why we read someone’s word
And I’m thankful for those that return to read mine
If I could put my emotion clearly into each word I write
You’d understand the reason for each letter of a line.

Charles Townsend


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