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Voices and Views

What Christmas at the Hope Centre meant to me…….by Jayne Woodgate

The Hope Centre tried its best to make Christmas a happy time for everyone who live on the streets. We went to the cinema and watched the Golden Globe, which was quite an enjoyable experience. Then on another day we all went bowling and we also had a meal out that day. Even though I got the least points at bowling, it was still a very enjoyable day!

Barclaycard held a Christmas Day, which was quite fun; it included games and a Christmas quiz. Everybody who came in that day managed to win at least one prize. We also had a gorgeous Christmas dinner, it was that tasty I just wanted more!

On Christmas Day everyone was invited for Christmas dinner, which again was quite tasty! Thanks to Katie and all the team, the atmosphere on Christmas Day was fantastic – the tables had table cloths, centrepieces, candles, flowers, sweets and Christmas crackers. Before we left we all got a Christmas present each which was donated by Mears. I think that everyone who left the Hope Centre on Christmas Day had a smile on their face!

Many thanks to all individuals, groups, churches, schools and businesses who supported us at Christmas!

Smoking Ban

We recently conducted an opinion poll in the centre to find out people’s views on the smoking ban which is coming into force on July 1st.

In favour of the ban 21%
Against the ban 79%

We also held a discussion around the topic with representatives from Stop Smoking Northampton coming in to give their side of the debate.

Creativity

There are many extremely talented individuals at the centre and we'd like to share some their work with you hear. Enjoy!

All poetry written by Penne Tynam

The Poet

He sits here now,
The frustrated writer.
While words in their multitude,
Spin crazy in his head.

And the words are good,
And the words keep coming,
And the words take control,
And the words escape.

The writer, frustrated as before,
Looks for his paper, his pen,
But the music in his mind,
Has faded once again.

Yet when the poet,
Gets his tools, his trade,
Sat loving in his hand,
His writing will move you,
Bring a tear to your eye.

The writer must go now,
Put his pen away,
For I have used my paper,
But someday he will write again.

Yesterday

I woke today,
The day after yesterday,
And it was so long ago,
Yesterday.

I remember the morning,
So many years ago,
I was young then,
Not now though.

Lunch time I was in love,
At One, I was left alone.
My sister comforted me by half past,
At Two in love again.

And friends died,
And I lived on,
And more, and more,
Yet I survive.

But today I woke up,
Though yesterday was so long ago.

Heart

You have something of mine,
You stole it when I met you.
When I spoke to you,
Saw your eyes.

I have something of yours,
I hope.

Saw it in your eyes,
Your smile,
The way your body spoke to mine.

And I can’t let you keep it,
No good will come of it.
I have to give yours back,
I am too old,
Twice your age.
You are too young,
Half of mine.

So return to me my heart,
And I will hand you yours.

The Wren

I sat in my garden this evening,
Waiting for the wild life.
And they came,
They always do.

First was a bird I did not recognise,
Looked like a thrush but half the size.
Then the tits,
Coal, blue, and great.

The robin came so close I could almost touch it,
Finches sang so loud,
And the green ones ate the bread at my feet.

A collar dove visited, as did a blackbird.
Then it went quiet.
No sound,
All my birds had gone.
What had I done to scare them away?
I couldn’t understand.

A cat, white and black walked along the wall.

A wren came then,
The size of my thumb.
It started singing,
Voice as big as the world.

That was enough,
I went inside,
To see a wren,
head back singing at the top of it’s voice,
A spring evening just don’t get better.

The Butcher

I am the baker,
The cooker of your bread,
I make the cake that helps you celebrate.
And I will give you buns,
So you can feed the ducks.

I am the candle maker,
The giver of your light,
I melt the tallow to wrap around a wick.
And I will give you fire,
So you can see your way.

Butcher, Baker, Candlestick maker,
I am all of these, But more.
I am the revelation,
That comes upon you all.

Alone

We are all of us on our own,
All of us.
I sit here in my room alone,
I like it, it’s the way I want to be.

Ambrose in his living room,
Alone.
Owen washing up,
Alone.
Caroline waiting for a call,
Alone.
Marc playing with his cat,
Alone.

The people, the single people,
All of us, we love to be,
Alone.

Saturday

What did I see? I hear you cry,
If you know not,
Then you too are blind.

I wasn’t looking for a revelation,
Just doing Saturday things,
And then I saw.

Now I see all the time,
And not all I see is good.
Maybe on a future Saturday,
I’ll not just see,
But do.

Home

We’re going home,
My parents said.
We’re going home,
My siblings told me.

And so we flew,
Thousands of miles,
Home.

But I had never been there,
How was it my home?

And it was wet,
And it was cold,
And shite hawks flew above.

I remember the sun,
The warm,
The monsoon seasons.

I live here now,
And I call it home.
I’ve lived here more years than I did away.

But in my mind,
My home was warm.
I never liked the cold.

Yet it seems
Cold and wet is…….
HOME.