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Poetry Corner

Winter is Ours

Winter is ours
if we can locate
skates
skis
snowmobile
sled
and
sauna.
Santa won’t do
overtime,
he watches
ice hockey
instead.

It is ours
if we dare stay
indoors
smell cinnamon
sip mulled wine
watch birch burn
hear music play.

The skin glows...

...it definitely is ours.

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www.khayaronkainen.fi
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Death Note What are they fighting for?
Do they even know?
The wind rips by For every time I cry
My spirit takes its fall Such little strength I show.
And everything inside me seems to curdle
I’m up against a wall. Given all the facts of life
And all that it entailed
The sun dies out I decided to give up
I’m seeking in eternal toil For I know that I have failed.
Which way do I turn?
My blood begins to boil. Bruce Firkin - 1951 to 2003
Trials and Tribulations
My heart pumps out my life
Though everything inside is dead Bruce had a very special place in our hearts – he was family.
How many realise Bruce was a very deep thinker who took life’s punches in his stride
How many tears I have shed? and although this poem suggests otherwise, he did not die by
his own hand. However, mental health was very close to Bruce’s
heart, not only was he a veteran but he fought courageously in the
And though this void is everlasting aid of others. He touched many lives positively with his charm,
Sometimes in others I see light patience, compassion and inspiring words. Always willing to listen
Why do I give up? and a great lover of music and literature. Bruce, we salute you
When they all seem to fight? and hold your memory dear.

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