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Reader's Poem.

EVERYTHING IS BORROWED Borrowed dollar, borrowed dime, Living on, borrowed time, Borrowed flat, borrowed street, Borrowed food, borrowed heat. Take a look around in your world of tomorrow, Yeah, everything is borrowed.

Borrowed car, borrowed girl, Jaguar, took her for a whirl. Borrowed job, they took it back, Debt collectors, on my back. Take a look around in your world of tomorrow, Yeah, everything is borrowed.

Round and round and round we go, And when it's gonna end, God only knows. Borrowed fire, borrowed sleep, Borrowed fuel, debt so deep, Borrowed loan, DSS, Pay it back with a welfare cheque! Living for today 'cos we're gone tomorrow, Yeah, everything is borrowed.

Round and round and round we go, And when it's gonna end, God only knows.

Any chance of a sub? P STEPHENSON.

PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE Yesterday I decided I would walk From Whitley Bay to Blyth, stopping to read A book on faith and meditation like Some up-to-date kind of Cuthbert or Bede. I chose a rock garlanded with seaweed, The gentle tide lapped like the Holy Word, I vowed that from just then I'd always lead A life so pure in thought and word and deed. But then a little dog came past and weed All over my cagoule and haversack, I felt my unconditional love crack, I spoke the rudest word you've ever heard. I squelched up the beach to the Rendezvous Cafe and sat nursing my broken vow, My high ideals away like seagulls flew, I'd had it with the Lord, at least for now. Later in Blyth as I went for my bus, The day's real lesson slowly came my way: They say that slow and steady wins the race, And Seaton Sluice was not built in one day. MATTHEW TATE, Jesmond.

PITILESS, CRUEL WARS During the bloody wars of Iraq and Afghanistan Too many soldiers have lost their lives. They died fighting, young, able, in the prime of their lives.

With honour they wore their battle dress. Was it for their last sleep, their final rest? They fought in harsh conditions Against unimaginable odds, In dangerous locations and positions. Soldiers face hazardous tasks daily, IEDs have to be found and disarmed. Terrifying contraptions to kill and maim. A soldiers' life has to be charmed! Soldiers locate bombs with a metal detector, Gently brushing away any dirt.

Bombs must be released carefully From their hiding place.

They have to watch closely that fatal projection, Nothing to save them, no helmets or body protection.

Soldiers live their life, as if it was their last, everyday. Every minute savoured in every way. They wonder: "Is it me, am I next in line?" They've seen comrades die in front of their eyes.

Will God be merciful and give them more time? Each soldier keeps a promise To do his best.

They follow their orders, never ask questions. They don't say: "Why can't we have peace, Stop fighting and rest?" E CORKHILL, Heaton.

WITH MEMORIES DEEP I FEEL this sense of restlessness as I roam In wild Northumbria hills, Filling me with great joy, feral, mighty, God's garden beyond satanic mills, The far-flung smell of ocean, worlds end Through portal high, Isolation, freedom in touching silence, Bring tears to my eyes, Yet not remorse, nor beyond the grave but Of purity and love, Thankful for who, and what I am on this earth, Beneath me and above, A moment of chagrin, a sadness for a world of Savagery, man ruthlessly tears apart Walking in this special place, in the presence Of nature's heart, Wildness in Cheviot hills, valleys, tarn and cairn, As becks and rivers weep, On beautiful Northumbria, born and raised, where I will truly lie with love and memories deep. GEORGE CARRICK, Cramlington.

CHRONOLOGICAL DISORDER FIDDLING around with time on the clock, Messing up friction and aftershock. Murky religions led to the dock, Crippling secrets about to unlock. Forced into fairytale's made of poppycock, Breakdown the doors, no need to knock. Wailing souls behind care home walls, Final years when nobody calls. Broken hips as frailty falls, Death is sudden but sometimes crawls. Built on war ways of cannonballs, Don't forget the consequences that truth installs!


EVERYBODY'S CAT Thin scrawny ginger cat came to us one day We kept him as we found he was a stray Named Ginger, used to squeak could not meow He is over 10 years old now He would often disappear, come back now and then He was seen sitting in people's windows, other people's homes Ginger visited a week ago, we knew something was wrong He lasted 20 minutes, lay down, closed his eyes and died Everyone around the doors were asked where he was They were really upset He wasn't just a Ginger cat He was everybody's pet. RIP. ANON
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Title Annotation:Letters
Publication:Evening Chronicle (Newcastle, England)
Date:Apr 9, 2010
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