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As a child:





As a child, freedom

was tempered with love,

As a teen-ager

I marched for freedom,

As a woman

I respected the rights of others,

As a mother

freedom was a threat,

As an older citizen

I fear the government

that goes to war

sends troops abroad

and wonder what for?

young men in their prime

fathers and sons

on foriegn soil

armed with guns.



Is a million miles away.



Dave Chambers


Freedom is a state of mind, a kind

of thought, idea or fantasy

that you would like to do or see,

except that when you really see

where this or that has led you to

you are amazed, dazed,

and don't know quite what next to do

that can compare with the glare

of FREEDOM against the Serfdom

you left behind...

For when your free

you've taken all the rights you need.

No need to heed

the the choice of others

or their mothers.

All your choices are yours alone.

It's here that you begin to hone

who you are,

whether you go near or far or

up or down or round and round

and if you choose to look or listen

whatever you hear whatever you see

your free.

To act or not, for them or those,

or strike an independent pose,

the choice is yours, and yours, and yours - alone

Now the onus is yoked upon us

as freedom does what Freedom will

do you do good? Or do you do ill?

Do all things suffer in your wake?

while you, the wanton, take

the right of freedom to its end

and lose all those you once called friend?

or, does it work you like a charm?

and bid, what ere you do, you do no harm.

Dave Chambers

Newham Writers workshop

Dave Chambers


Sorry this submission is so late

but when I heard the mission was


I got an image in my mind

and could find no way to get it out

It's a vision of that

famous Scotsman and that fateful shout


He's known in every country under the sun

Statues in Scotland, all over the place

bearing his name, William Mel Gibson.

Dave Chambers

Newham Writers workshop

Cynthia Price



Means running without fear

and crying when I feel the tears

Laughing when I am glad

And sympathy when I am sad


To sit and gaze when time is lost

Without counting minutes cost

To gasp with joy at a butterfly’s wing

Or hear the glad birds sing


Freedom is to say what’s to be said

Without cautious words of someone else’s dread

It all adds up I think you will agree

That freedom means being true to me


 Cynthia Price 30/12/2009

 Stevenage Survivors’ poetry


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