Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Lifeless it sat there on the table, an empty vessel awaiting a soul. Its two eye-shaped holes stared unseeing at its creator, and a slit lined with human-like teeth gaped in a vague approximation of a smile. But there was nothing human about that face. It had no nose like its orange counterparts of the modern world, lacking the character often bestowed upon those distant relatives in the here and now. A candle passed into the hollow frame, though the lantern was made no less eerie for the orange glow. Its creator didn’t seem to notice. This was her favourite time of the year, and she observed these ancient customs with more than just sacred duty. Lady Sarah of Wilton stood back to admire her handiwork. She could have had the servants carve out the turnip for her, but every year she insisted on doing it herself. All Hallows’ Eve was one of the few nights where anything might be possible. It was a night for lost souls, their one chance to find their way to Heaven through the prayers of t

  Calls to act now Languish on deaf ears. Images of arboreal destruction, Melting ice-kingdoms And flooded plains Tell us we must do more. Earth weeps.   Champions of the future, Help those who come after us And show them we care. Nurture our precious planet. Go in search of new ways. Even now, there is time.   Ask yourself – what can I do, today? Climb out of your habits. Turn the tide.   Not on our watch Or our children’s, Will we let this continue.   An acrostic poem is one in which the first letter of each line spells out a message.            

Margaret, a spinster, mid-fifties, is at the kitchen sink washing up and looking out of the window. She is thinking of the passing of an acquaintance. Well, of all the things I could think of, one of them was not watching that woman from number sixty-two parading herself on the arm of a swanky looking man in full daylight. Has she no common decency? No sense of grief? And she is wearing red shoes! What is the world coming to, I blame it on the television.   Mind you, I always knew it would come to this. I had a feeling when the funeral was on, not that I attended, not for all the tea in China. Not that I didn’t like the husband, no. It was more I that disliked her.   He was as regular as clockwork. Walked past me every morning at 7.45 on his way to the station and back in the evening at 5.55, always had a cheery smile for me. He worked in the city, Leeds, in one of the big banks, Midland, I think. I hear he was a big noise in property too. Their house is nice enough but n

I’m Colin the computer and I work in A and E No one even knows my name and no one speaks to me. I’m very stressed and overworked,   I rarely take a break I sit in line and don’t complain - it’s hard for goodness sake. They bang my keys and spin me round, they simply do not care Sometimes they gather in little groups, just simply stand and stare. I always seem to get the blame when things are not quite right But I only store what they give to me - morning, noon and night. An x-ray here, another scan and even a ruptured spleen Dashing about here and there, switching from screen to screen. Zooming in and zooming out,   please make up your mind Something else they must have lost or simply cannot find.   Poor Carol’s in reception and she doesn’t like that crowd. It’s busier than ever and they’re noisy, rude and loud. Carl has done much better, he’s sitting with a nurse A private little office, now that must be a first. Not a major accident or another late n