Singing For Change
Before we begin, the audience chatters.
In the nearby café bar, cutlery clatters.
Stood on the stage, I look all around,
Taking in all the sights and the sounds.
With so many watching, I feel slightly shy,
But my spirit within, is soaring so high.
I open my mouth, and I sing out real loud.
Our concert has drawn a really big crowd.
The hall we are in, is a massive space.
We watch our Conductor keeping pace.
Our choir sings out many a great song.
A couple of times, I sing a note wrong.
There is a real bright sparkle in my eyes.
The joy within my heart begins to rise.
The smile on my lips, I just can't hide.
Singing with Voicelab, I feel such pride.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Bournemouth Blues
In the summer, in the baking sun,
Bournemouth oozes a sense of fun,
But in the winter, when skies are grey,
I have no real desire to want to stay.
Today, the silvery sea is surfer-less;
The wind on my face is cold and fresh.
On my face, I can feel the sea's spray,
As, along the prom, we make our way.
The beach beyond is now almost bare;
The wild wind roughly ruffles my hair.
A couple of people walk along the pier;
In the sea air, there is now left little cheer.
The sea is coloured like a grey battleship;
No kiosks are open for fish and chips.
At the seafront pub, we have a cup of tea;
We sit by the window, looking out to sea.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Not In My Backyard
The local residents are all up in arms,
Worried that their town may lose its charm.
With hundreds of new houses, they are faced,
But plans to oppose them, are firmly in place.
Developers have been granted planning permission,
But now, residents are all busy signing a petition.
Faced with losing their precious fields of green,
The local residents are obviously not at all keen.
Worried about the thriving woods and animals,
To oppose the plans, there's been many a call.
By the new plans, will be very greatly affected,
The Great Crested Newt, which is protected.
The proposed plans have been on display
At the local community centre, for many a day.
The new development will obscure the view,
But the developers have argued this isn't true.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Things To Do Before I Die
Before my time on this earth is finally through,
There are many things which I’d really like to do.
I’d love to visit Staffa to see the dramatic Fingal’s Cave:
One of the many wonders which, to us, our great God gave.
Over the mighty ocean, in a boat, I’d like to sail:
I would dearly love to spot a dolphin or a whale.
To Salzburg in Austria, I could easily be lured,
To take a coach trip for The Sound of Music tour.
I love to sing and would love to record a song on CD.
That would surprise everyone, even including me!
I’d love to go and watch the Royal Variety Show,
And have a seat, bang in the middle of the front row.
I’d love to experience the Last Night of The Proms,
And join in, at the end, with all of the famous songs!
To publish my poetry, in a book, is one of my ambitions:
When I’ve written enough poems, I’ll make this my mission.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Going Shopping
En route to go shopping at our local grocery store,
I came across something which I hadn’t seen before.
A rustling sound within the trees, by me, was heard;
I just imagined it was either a cat or some kind of bird.
But what emerged in front of me, gave me a surprise;
A surprise which made me question my very own eyes!
Out of the trees, there very suddenly appeared,
An extremely lively, little brown deer.
I know that large herds of deer do reside
In the big forest, in the nearby countryside.
But never before in my life had I ever found
Any deer this close to the centre of our town.
As soon as he saw me, away he sprang,
But in my mind, alarm bells loudly rang.
For the deer, I began to feel a little scared,
As I wondered how, in a town, he would fair.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Chanel (Cat Poem)
She was an adorable cat, of whom I was really rather fond.
Over time, with each other, we formed a really special bond.
To become perfect pals, I guess we both made a choice.
I would sit, and speak softly to her, in a low, gentle voice.
For me, I always hoped that she would sit and wait;
That she’d sit, waiting patiently, by her garden gate.
If she was there, with joy, I could feel my heart lift,
But, if there was no sign of her, I felt a little miffed.
Placing her paws upon my bended knees, she’d gaze into my eyes.
Sometimes, she’d touch her nose to mine, which gave me a surprise.
Whenever she did this, feeling taken aback, I would, happily, laugh,
But I felt a little shy, if someone then came walking along the path.
She would purr contentedly, as by her side, I knelt.
Inside, I could physically feel all my tension melt.
With her, I would always spend a little while.
Being in her company, always made me smile.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Train To Waterloo
I can see the 10.06 train heading towards Waterloo,
And, I wish I could jump aboard, and go there too!
I have a real longing to head on up to London City,
But I have to go to work today, which is a real pity.
In spirit, I’m also riding with the people on the train,
But, here, in this sleepy old town, my body remains.
I can imagine myself sitting there in a train carriage;
With London, I have formed a really loving marriage!
To be one of those lucky passengers, I am yearning;
So much so, that it feels as though my heart is burning.
I can imagine sitting on a train, which is really packed,
As it heads up towards London, along the railway tracks.
I’ve lived here, all my life, in this sleepy little town,
Where there is hardly ever anything really going down.
But, in London, there is always something going on,
Amidst the Capital’s seemingly never-ending throng.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Frost
Upon waking, I pad softly over to my window,
And look out, at the wintry world, down below.
Many of the things which are within my sight,
Are covered with a thin coating of pure white.
I hear car engines running, and ice being scrapped away,
As neighbours nearby, prepare for another working day.
Through the gap, between the houses, stood nearby,
I see a bright patch of beautiful, peach coloured sky.
With icing sugar, the world appears to have been sprinkled.
In the morning sunlight, millions of minute crystals twinkle.
With dazzling diamonds, pavements seem to have been encrusted;
But, my, once sure, footing upon them, can no longer be trusted.
As I walk along the pavement, my feet slide and slip;
It is much more difficult now, to get a really good grip.
My pace, this morning, is much slower than my norm;
I tread much more warily, on this crisp, cold, frosty morn.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Merlin
He appears to be just a regular guy,
But Merlin, he is not like you or I.
His main duty is to serve the King,
And for him, he would do anything.
Merlin possesses a happy disposition;
To protect King Arthur is his mission.
When he is given any task or a quest,
Merlin will endeavour to do his best.
Gaius, the physician, is Merlin's mentor:
His wise words should not be ignored.
Life can be a challenge for this Warlock:
For he is often working against the clock.
Merlin has met with many mystical creatures:
Some of them possess many grotesque features.
Others of them are beautiful beyond belief;
Some bring wisdom, while others bring grief.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Watching The World Go By
In a coffee shop window, I sit and stare
At all the people passing by, out there.
In London town, literally anything goes:
Zany hairstyles, as well as crazy clothes.
As a regular visitor, I'm now never surprised
At the sights, which I see set before my eyes.
People of all ages pass by: some young, some old;
Some wear quiet colours, while others wear bold.
Some have mobile phones pressed to their ear:
Their faces full of frowns - no trace of cheer.
But tourists keep a much more leisurely pace;
These are the people with a smile on their face.
Football supporters are just back from a game;
Fuelled with alcohol, they are less than tame.
A tramp searches for food in the nearby trash.
A busker plays his guitar, hoping for some cash.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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