Liphook Community Magazine Spring 2018

Poets Corner
Angelica
An English country lane
Meandering down
A green tunnel
Driven through high hedges
And sloping banks
Where flowers cascade in spring.
Tall spires thrust up
Their leaves unfurling
Above his head
Flowering umbrellas
Nod together
Whispering in the wind.
The mind’s eye
Works upon the scene
Inspiration for a
Nightmare world
Where man plays
Fast and loose
With nature’s schemes
Creating triffids
Monstrous giant plants
That can uproot themselves
Lash out their tendrils
And destroy.
And so a quiet country lane
Gives birth to science fiction’s
Most fantastical of plants.
Ruth Howes
The Forge
The Anchor Garage, empty, stands,
Where once the air was filled with sound.
The rev of engines, smell of oil,
Cacophonies of noise all round.
And on this site mechanics wielded
Tools of trade, deployed their skill.
With whistling banter interacted,
Above pneumatic tyre and drill.
But hidden deep within this site
A link with Liphook’s distant past,
Pre-cursor of this motor age,
A listed wall; one built to last.
When Village Hall was farmer’s barn,
And Annexe stood by Anchor Inn,
Horse and trooper crossed The Square,
And, restless, stood by Forge’s din.
As Windibank, the Blacksmith, brought
His hammer down on iron and steel,
The fiery sparks flew all around,
And trooper calmed his horse at heel.
Now modern shop abuts the site,
Enfolds the Forge, and tales of when
The Windibanks re-shod the steeds,
Of farmers, troops and Gentlemen.
So if you pass at dead of night,
And hear the sound of hammers fall,
And feel the breath of horses near,
Remember then, the listed wall.
Angela Glass
Inspired by
Pygmalion and Galatea
He stood before the slab of marble
on his artist’s floor;
He thought and pondered how to start
and what had gone before;
He laboured on through night and day
and then beheld with pride;
The smooth perfection of a form
that he had been denied.
From those skilled hands the marble stands,
a statue with a smile;
He’d fashioned her and shaped her form
and held her with his eyes;
He climbed upon her pedestal
and bravely stole a kiss;
She softened then and came alive
Her lips becoming his.
Linda Foster
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