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Crich village cross

Poetry Corner


I am I - why am I?
You are you - who are you?
Why me ? Why me?
These questions that we ask
Give us quite a task.
We live our lives on this earth,
To our death from our birth.
Who, or what is to blame?
Are we not all the same?
Why friend or foe?
Do we not know?
People suffer every day
Why ? We all say.
What do they gain
From all their pain?
Some are happy in their ignorance,
Depending on the circumstance.
Do we choose?
Can we refuse?
We live, we die
Do we know why?

Shirley Crosby

Cupola Park



I begin to fear,
That over here,
Our village is such a dump.
If here was a person,
I�d love to give him a thump.
What a palace it used to be,
But now the rubbish is up to my knee.
And all the vandals breaking glass,
What�s the point?
May I ask?
Our vandals are always at work.
All the time with a great big smirk.
Why can�t the teenagers go away?
I would love...
To see the day.
It used to be like a countryside,
If I�d called it that now, I�d have lied.
With all the new houses that have appeared,
The fields of green,
Have now disappeared.
The pavements brown with all the dog poo,
I�d like to kick� em and make them shoo.
It�ll take a miracle to save this place.
But until that time,
Most of Crich will stay a disgrace!

Blake Curzon (aged 13)