Everybody is welcome to join our friendly, informal group. We meet at 2.00 on the 2nd Thursday of the month in Thetford Library

The library reserve a meeting space for us near the literature section downstairs at the back, handy if you want to flick through the poetry books. NO NEED TO BOOK - Come along & join us

We find poems that we like, then read and talk about them in an easy way. Bring with you any type of poetry you are interested in, it doesn't have to fit in with the current topic.

DATES & TOPICS 2026

January 8th Laughter & Silence

February 12th Nature & Nurture

March 12th Spring & Surprises

April 9th Friends & Friendship

May 14th Escapes & Escapades

June 11th Food & Drink

July 9th Immortality & Coming of Age

August 13th Pets & Animals

September 10th Desire & Denial

October 8th Colours & Climate

November 12th Books & Stories

December 10th Something Wonderful

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POEMS WE'VE LIKED

Empathy - Chris White

The ability to understand

and share feelings of another

The power to put an arm around

a Sister or a Brother

The act of being able to

be aware and sympathise

Being able to view the world anew

through anothers eyes

The chance to taste, to feel, to know

What strangers are thinking and seeing

To walk in someone else's shoes

To be a Human Being

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Sanity - Enoch John

As a bird in flight

Like a rhapsody of love,

Time's solemn promise beckons,

To catch and to cherish,

The scarce moments of bliss,

Like the fragrance of fresh flowers

In the volatile field of life

Where sweeping mirages materialize

To taunt the thirsty traveller,

Then disappears in a moment's quiet anguish.

But then the reality remains

Like solid concrete cast in life's bivouac;

It holds firm and keeps our sanity,

Ere we fall headlong into the chasm.

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Being Boring - Wendy Cope

'May you live in interesting times,' Chinese curse

If you ask me 'What's new?', I have nothing to say

Except that the garden is growing.

I had a slight cold but it's better today.

I'm content with the way things are going.

Yes, he is the same as he usually is,

Still eating and sleeping and snoring.

I get on with my work. He gets on with his.

I know this is all very boring.

There was drama enough in my turbulent past:

Tears of passion-I've used up a tankful.

No news is good news, and long may it last.

If nothing much happens, I'm thankful.

A happier cabbage you never did see,

My vegetable spirits are soaring.

If you're after excitement, steer well clear of me.

I want to go on being boring.

I don't go to parties. Well, what are they for,

If you don't need to find a new lover?

You drink and you listen and drink a bit more

And you take the next day to recover.

Someone to stay home with was all my desire

And, now that I've found a safe mooring,

I've just one ambition in life: I aspire

To go on and on being boring.

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Mrs Rip van Winkle - Carol Ann Duffy

I sank like a stone

into the still, deep waters of late middle age,

aching from head to foot

I took up food

and gave up exercise.

It did me good.

And while he slept

I found some hobbies for myself.

Painting. Seeing the sights I'd always dreamed about:

The Leaning Tower.

The Pyramids. The Taj Mahal.

I made a little watercolour of them all.

But what was best,

what hands-down beat the rest,

was saying a none-too-fond farewell to sex.

Until the day

I came home with this pastel of Niagara

and he was sitting up in bed rattling Viagra.

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Don't Quit - Jill Wolf

Don't quit when the tide is lowest,

For it's just about to turn;

Don't quit over doubt's and questions,

For there's something you may learn.

Don't quit when the night is darkest,

For its just a while 'til dawn;

Don't quit when you've run the farthest,

For the race is almost won.

Don't quit when the hill is steepest,

For your goal is almost nigh;

Don't quit, for you're not a failure

Until you fail to try.

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The Piper - Anon

A piper in the streets today

Set up, and tuned, and started to play

And away, away, away on the tide

Of his music we started; on every side

Doors and windows were opened wide,

And men left down their work and came,

And women with petticoats coloured like flame

And little bare feet that were blue with cold,

Went dancing back to the age of gold,

And all the world went gay, went gay,

For half an hour in the street today.

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Hope - Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

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