The Storm
The tall trees angrily toss their heads.
Many leaves, they rapidly now shed.
The boughs of the trees sway and creak and groan
In the strong wind, as it continues to loudly moan.
Twigs and branches lie broken on the ground.
Fruit, berries and seeds are also now downed.
The wind continues to lose all control and roar,
Leaving folk wondering what damage is in store.
Everyone’s hair is looking completely windswept.
Today, nobody’s normally tidy hair is smartly kept.
The sound of the wind rushes past my ears,
Making other sounds quite difficult to hear.
Many bridges are closed to high-sided trucks,
In case, into the river below, they are sucked.
Rain water collecting in roof guttering now overflows;
Cascading down to the already sodden ground below.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Cold Calling
My day started off well, but very rapidly began to turn sour,
When a company ‘cold-called’ five times in the space of an hour.
With their business practice, I was extremely far from impressed,
And their persistent calling soon began to cause me much stress.
The Asian sounding gentleman at the other end of the phone,
Politely introduced himself as somebody called Geoffrey Jones.
Whenever the phone rang after that, it, I would purposely ignore,
Worried that it was the same company calling me again once more.
They said my credit limit on my card had been raised,
But by this claim, I felt unsure and really rather phased.
So I checked my last statement and as far as I could tell,
Everything seemed in order and everything seemed well.
The man told me I was due three thousand pounds compensation.
I felt rather surprised and confused by this baffling information.
Part of me wondered if someone at my bank had made a mistake,
While part of me thought that this company probably was a fake.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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TV Memories
There was ‘Rainbow' featuring Zippy, George and Bungle,
And quiz show, ‘On Safari', which was set in the jungle.
There was ‘Mr Benn' in his black suit and bowler hat,
And ‘Postman Pat', along with Jess, his beloved cat.
There was ‘Pitkins', ‘Fingerbobs' and ‘Hector's House',
And fearless, crime-fighting rodent, ‘Dangermouse'.
There was Crystal Tipps and her dog, Alistair,
And the marmalade-loving, ‘Paddington Bear'.
There was ‘Jim'll Fix It', where dreams came true,
‘A Handful of Songs' and ‘Why Don't You? '
There was ‘Mary, Mungo and Midge' living in a flat,
Gordon the Gopher, and superstar, Roland the Rat.
There was ‘Rupert The Bear' and ‘Sally And Jake',
And ‘Blue Peter', which featured things to make.
There was ‘Andy Pandy' and friend, Looby-Loo,
‘Bagpuss', ‘Barnaby' and the cosmic ‘Button Moon'.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mary-Jess (Singer)
A remarkable singer, by the name of Mary-Jess,
Stands on stage, in a gorgeous, flowing dress.
She opens her mouth and her singing is sweet.
To hear her sing her songs live is truly a treat.
She waves her arms as though she’s freely floating.
She’s a new artiste who’s definitely worth noting.
About her, the critics have only good things to say,
And it’s already clear that she’s going to go a long way.
Her music sounds distinctly oriental,
But her interpretation of it is pure and gentle.
Charmingly pretty with a fresh-faced complexion,
With an audience, she’s able to make a real connection.
With her new album just released,
Her popularity has greatly increased.
To be a singer, has always been her dream,
But her journey hasn’t been as easy as it seems.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Demise Of Dolphins
Dolphins are delightful creatures, who I absolutely adore;
I feel sad, when they are washed up dead, along the seashore.
Seeing a dolphin swimming in the wild, must be very exciting,
But the day may come, when a dolphin becomes a rare sighting.
The death of a dolphin, should never ever be in vain;
From each one's demise, a lesson should be gained.
If we can try to discover why each dolphin has died,
Our future actions, that reason, should then guide.
The ocean is fast becoming a thick soup of toxic waste;
A daily problem, which many dolphins, now have to face.
If we continue disposing of our waste in to the ocean,
It will end up as a most poisonous and deadly potion.
Dolphins have such happy faces, and are just so adorable;
That we are needlessly killing them, is just so deplorable.
Through sparkling, clear waters, the dolphins love to zoom;
But where waste has been dumped, there is a murky gloom.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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New Friends (Ducks)
I recently went to the small town of Arundel,
And visited the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust.
I spent a relaxing few hours there strolling around.
If you haven’t already been, then you simply must.
After a while of strolling around,
I sat down to relax on a bench.
There were ducks under and around me,
Who had settled down and seemed quite content.
I sat watching tourists being taken
On a boat trip around the reed beds.
I was happy enough to sit watching the ducks:
Some, as they rested and some as they fed.
Sat there, I reached into my bag for a snack,
And, suddenly, dozens of pairs of eyes were on me.
The ducks dared to venture a little closer,
And made it obvious that they were extremely hungry.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Declining Art Of Communication
We all seem to be living our lives
At an ever increasing pace.
We are finding less and less time
To meet up with people face to face.
You often read stories in the press,
About people being fired or dumped by text.
The way in which we communicate has changed so much,
That you do find yourself wondering 'Whatever next? '
There are some things, which by text or email,
You just really shouldn't say:
Like, if you're telling someone that they're no longer wanted,
Or that someone they know has just passed away.
You can check your email at your leisure,
Unlike if someone contacts you by phone,
But like they say, it's good to talk,
So you really shouldn't moan.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Garden Party
The bright sun is shining down
On the party guests milling around.
Everyone has gathered on the stripy green lawn,
Which, by the gardener, has recently been shorn.
Garden parties are always such a pleasure.
A lovely way to spend a few hours of leisure.
The guests gather round in small mixed groups.
Periodically, there’s the sound of laughter or whoops.
Some people sit and relax in recliner chairs,
As the soft sound of music fills the balmy air.
The guests are soon engaged in different conversations,
Exchanging a mixture of interesting and trifling information.
With each other, the guests chat and make new friends.
Those who may have previously squabbled make amends.
The ladies wear pretty, summery, floaty dresses.
Sporting a variety of beautifully dressed tresses.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Picnic By The River
On the grassy river bank,
We place our tartan rug upon the ground.
The gently flowing river and random birdsong,
Are the only audible sounds.
We sit down on the rug and relax,
Basking in the glorious sunshine.
Then open our wicker picnic basket,
To reveal food and drink on which we’ll dine.
There’s plenty of food to for us all to share,
Including a gorgeous home-made savoury tart.
There’s also finger food and various fruits,
And, in no time at all, we all make a start.
We’ve brought a bottle of champagne,
For a special treat, for us all to drink.
I love to watch the tiny bubbles rise.
‘Cheers! ’ we exclaim, as, together, our glasses clink.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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