Margaret Hanning
St. Austell, Cornwall, UK
Margaret HanningSt. Austell, Cornwall, UK |
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I was born in a village in Cornwall called Tywardreath to father and mother, William and Winifred Cartnen. I have two children, Steven and Susan, and three living grandchildren; our fourth (Ben) sadly died. I live at St. Austell with Peter and three cats. Many feelings flow from the pen and I proudly have a poem in "Quiet Moments". I have also been an Editors Choice. My work is in "Rhyme and Reason" and recently another was accepted for publication. My successes with poetry gives me incentive. I hope all who read my works feel the melancholy and joy I've experienced in writing them. |
House for SaleI stood in the midst of the empty house,It was silent, empty, and bare, gone was the laughter the tears and the life, and the family that once lived there. I stood there observing, to try to revive the memories this house had to share, the secrets, excitement, unhappiness too, these feelings so willing to bear. I heard children playing and lapping up life, I heard adults talking and scolding, This house bore it all with its solid repose, and accepted with wisdom beholding. I stood in the midst of the empty house, with a feeling of sadness around, abandoned and empty, a lonely shell, for the place never uttered a sound, it was silent and bare, where the rooms had been stripped and the furniture taken away, the paint had been scratched and the floor left unwashed when the house was abandoned that day. The ghosts from its past walk through each lonely room, and I sigh as I button my coat, I slam the front door with an echoing bang and a lump seems to lodge in my throat- for there on the green lawn for all eyes to see with dark letters outstanding on pale is a board standing taut in the cold winter sun with the large, lonely wording- "For Sale" | Old AgeI'm old and I'm wrinkled I sit in my chair,eyes dim and faded, but memories are there, of family and children, of lovers and like, of sorrow and glad times, of pity and strife. My heart beats much slower I look for the night, my hands gnarled, are shrunken, my eyes squint at light. Old age has crept on me, my beauty is gone Forever behind me, as death comes along, my youth smooth and shining is set to decay, my hair long and golden, now dull, thin and grey But, I have such stories of love in my head to cherish, remember, until I am dead, my live has been torment, I've known deep despair, I've lived on light laughter, and grief has been there I've known all these feelings, I've lived so I'm told, to laugh, to remember them - now that I'm old ! |