The Dawn Chorus
Dawn is the time when darkness becomes light;
A time when darkness disappears from sight.
The ashen veil slowly fades away,
To reveal another brand new day.
Up in the trees, the little birds awake,
And a pretty chorus, they now do make.
There is no other music on earth, quite as sweet,
As their cheerful chorus of twitters and tweets.
To the birds' pretty chorus, I lend an ear,
And am filled inside with joy and cheer.
The little birds are so jolly when they sing;
I wonder if they know of the joy they bring?
It is a treat to hear the birds trilling in the trees;
The sound is carried to my ears, upon the breeze.
Their symphony is carried aloft to where I lay;
Such sweet music, no instrument can ever play.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Your Eyes
Around every corner, I turn, you are there;
Fixing me with your steely, unseeing, stare.
Your eyes are static: they do not move,
But, your eternal presence seems to soothe.
The scenario, very slightly, freaks me out,
As, everywhere I go, I see your face about.
Whenever I see your watchful blue eyes,
I suddenly begin to feel just a little bit shy.
You seem to watch me, wherever I go.
But, no emotion does your face show.
What I know for sure, in my own mind,
Is that, in real life, you are caring and kind.
A poster image of you, is what I am seeing:
A momentary snapshot of your very being.
The image lacks colour, but for eyes of light blue;
This very distinguishing feature of yours, is so true.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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From A Wasp...
I spotted your back door, gaping wide,
So I thought that I would come inside.
I was in the area, and thought I'd dropp by;
I often visit people: we wasps aren't shy.
Do you have anything nice for me to eat?
A sticky bun would go down a real treat!
I'm partial to a piece of cake, oozing with jam,
But I also like meat, especially honeyed ham.
I've only come for food - so, why all the alarm?
Breathe nice and deeply, and keep yourself calm!
I'd really appreciate it, if you could remain seated,
While my search of your premises, is duly completed.
I see that I now have your full attention;
Do I detect a certain amount of tension?
No! Don't do that! It makes me annoyed;
Upsetting me is something you should avoid.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Coventry Squirrels
Near Coventry Cathedral, upon the green,
A group of grey squirrels can often be seen.
Squirrel food can be bought from the gift shop,
Where many of the City’s tourists do often stop.
The squirrels there are amazingly tame,
And seem to enjoy their relative fame.
Up and down the tall trees, they race;
Dashing around at an incredible pace.
When they spot a tourist walk along the path,
To them, it could mean food – they’re not daft!
Up in the trees or on the ground, they keep an eye,
On all of the people who are passing by.
When someone stops and looks their way.
They run on over to them, totally unafraid.
For food, they are always on the scrounge,
And luckily, for them, there’s plenty around.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Evensong
It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon;
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down,
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.
Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high,
And his song delights many, as they pass by.
Your ears can not help, but hear his loud call,
As the sun, once again, sets and darkness falls.
He sings for joy, at the very top of his voice;
To listen to his song, you have little choice.
He sits at the very top of the tallest tree,
Singing so loudly; his heart full of glee.
His plaintive call pierces the cool air,
As he sings his song, without a care.
A pure quality, his sweet song holds,
And he sings it out, so bright and bold.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Summer Shower
I'm standing here watching the rain
Running down my window pane.
For days now, there's been no rain in sight,
But when it does, couldn't it rain at night?
Every single plant and every single flower
Is extremely grateful for this summer shower.
I see people, who have been caught unaware,
Wet through with lank, bedraggled hair.
They quicken their pace and dash away,
Hoping that this weather isn't set for the day.
I, to, am hoping that it won't hang around,
As later, I was hoping to pop into town.
On the cars, the windscreen wipers swish to and fro.
Their tyres splashing through the puddles as they go.
The sky is grey, but I see a small chink of blue,
So maybe hopefully this rain will be over soon?
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Spring Morning
The sky is the shade of cornflower blue;
The clouds in the sky, are extremely few.
Caught by the sunshine, everything glows.
A fresh, cooling breeze, now gently blows.
With bowed heads, daffodils seem a bit shy;
I gaze, admiringly, at them, as I pass on by.
Their deep, rich purple, the crocuses show;
A lovely contrast, to the daffodils' yellow.
Green buds are seen on branches, once bare;
Stunning outfits, they will, very soon, wear.
Blossom on a tree, is as white as fresh snow;
Decorating its branches, both high and low.
Birds sweetly sing, high up in the tall trees.
I can hear the familiar buzz of the busy bees.
The butterflies chase each other, to and fro.
Nearby, I hear the call of the noisy crows.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Facing The Facts (Wolfblood)
Some saw Shannon as a gormless geek;
Someone to mock; an uncool freak.
But she was a girl with a very sharp mind:
A brighter girl, it would be hard to find.
With the Beast, she became quite obsessed;
She asked friends to help her in her quest.
She had seen a hazy image in a photograph,
But, at her, the others still loved to laugh.
That the Beast existed, Shannon would swear;
But, the lack of evidence, she could not bear.
The Beast's presence, she was able to sense,
But she needed to gather some real evidence.
Being called a liar, she could not stand,
So off she went with her camera in hand.
She would often go out in the dead of night:
Within her heart, she would feel such fright;
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Hungry Hedgehog
By the time I returned back to our estate,
The sky was dark, and it was getting late.
I came into a large, moonlit square,
And a hungry hedgehog, I saw there.
At seeing the hedgehog, I felt such a thrill;
I stopped in my tracks, and stood stock still.
Seeing him there was quite a surprise;
For a few moments, we interlocked eyes.
He looked, as if to say ‘Why are you looking at me?
What's the big deal? There's nothing to see!
I've been a hedgehog since I was born:
For me, being a hedgehog is quite the norm! '
‘You are the one, who looks rather weird,
And you are the one, who should be feared.
I don't see your kind often: you are quite rare.
So please could you not just stand and stare? '
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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There For Me
You've been there for me, through thick and thin;
When my whole world felt like it was caving in.
We have shared many times: the good and the bad;
You have seen me happy; you have seen me sad.
You know me back to front and inside out;
You understand everything that I am about.
You know things I like, and the things I hate.
To me, you are a friend: my very best mate.
We've been good friends now, for many years.
You've seen my smiles; you've seen my tears.
To you, I've often revealed my true inner soul.
Together, we have often achieved many a goal.
When I am down, I can always call on you,
And, you know that you can call on me too.
Together, we have travelled to many places,
And, over the years, we have met many faces.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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