It’s time to hang your hat, sir.
Your work has come to an end.
Harry S Alford My Grandfather the Postman
I’ll miss the hand waves and the bells
of a much beloved friend.
Seeing you early each morning
counting out the coloured cards
placing them through each letterbox
with a smile, wink and kind regards.
Rain or shine, you were always there
the glue that held the villages
together with paper and ink
and postcards of flowery bridges.
But, the wheels of time push progress
and you have been found wanting.
Time, she has made you redundant
and so Death has begun knocking.
It’s time to hang up your hat, sir.
Your work has come to an end.
We’ll remember you in our scrapbooks
and label you, a long lost friend.
Poem was inspired by an article in The Age:Are you ready to abandon snail mail?
Back in the days of jeans and bandana’s
I would tip toe along the old stone brick walls
taking a swing on the old iron gate
into the old tennis-racket shaped road.
We were the children of the River Bourne
playing happily above our ancient wood
cycling in circles around our bubble
waiting to venture down the unknown path.
We created chalk worlds on the grey pavement
where our art reflected our village life
of summer carnivals and bonfire nights
bringing this circle into another vibe.
I remember standing outside my home
eighteen years of me imprinted in those bricks
echoes of laughter bound through the parish
as I waltzed into the woods, goodbye.
The 90s children have all grown and gone
new pedals and canine friends take their place
but the brown robins are still all twittering
like the old ladies down by station house.
The road I grew up on belongs elsewhere
in a time of jeans and bad bandana’s
when dancing to ‘Under the Sea’ was cool
and dinner was hot curry sauce on chips.
I see you in our little coastal town
a photo awakens a reels of memories
of childhood antics on rocky beaches
and Welsh mountains that we would race down.
A traveller of the last century
I remember how you could spin a yarn
We would laugh at your terrible acting
every moment you made legendary.
Written across a tattered birthday card
printed like a human type writer
said the infamous words “Carpe Dium”
words that are tattooed in my mind and soul
as the world twists and turns without you.
Inspired by We Drink Because We’re Poetsprompting us to reawaken a so-called dead language via a Latin proverb. I chose ‘Carpe Dium’ meaning to Seize the Day.
Todays prompt was inspired by my other interest in researching my family history. The journey took me and my dad to the New Forest where we found the church my great great great grandparents were married (and presumably) buried in. I remember sitting in the churchyard thinking about what I would say to them if I could…
Todays entry was inspired by yesterday (23rd April) being St. Georges Day in my beautiful home country of England. As much as I love my new digs in Australia (been here 10 years now) England will always have a special place in my heart…
B By and by, I’ll be home in those woodlands
R remembering myself in yesterday’s
E earldoms, skipping along the ruins – gran
A alway there, with her sea candy in May.
T too many tales and stories to relive
H happy, we were kites floating in the sky.
E every memory and moment was a gift
E Etched in my soul; eternal in my eyes.
N now I’ve departed my darling island
G grateful I am to be a part of her
L long may she breath through my feet and my hands
Charlie Ann Alford 
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