The Fly
I was sitting up in my bed,
When a little fly flew round my head.
Whenever the fly was in flight,
His buzz sounded just like a Microlight.
He buzzed really close to my left ear,
And I didn't like him being that near.
The fly, I found, really annoying:
With my patience, he was toying.
I was trying to read a poetry book,
But, my attention from it, he soon took,
On the words, I couldn't concentrate;
His constant whining made me really irate.
Very soon, I snuggled back down:
The fly's whining, I was keen to drown.
I put my head back under the cover:
Of flying insects, I am not a big lover.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Guinevere
She is a young lady with a caramel complexion;
To others, she shows much warmth and affection.
When faced with danger, she can be very brave,
And, those in peril, she will endeavour to save.
She has jet black hair and dark chocolate eyes;
She is loyal and true and doesn't tell any lies.
She is softly spoken and her manner is mild;
She is not someone who is ever rude or wild.
She is loved by everybody who she knows;
Their fondness for her, ever steadily, grows.
Her soul is gentle - she rarely ever gets mad;
She believes in good and she repels the bad.
That patience is a virtue, people often do say:
Gwen has endless patience that lasts all day.
For what she believes in, she will always fight.
She is sensitive, wise and extremely bright.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Jubilee
Bells across the Nation will ring.
Bands will play; people will sing.
The Nation will rise up to its feet,
And people will party in the street.
People will come together as one,
For a time of festivity and of fun.
People will jump up out of their seats,
To dance along with the various beats.
This is our Nation's one big chance
For a show of Pomp and Circumstance.
Flags will be waved and bunting unfurled,
For the biggest celebration in all the world.
The huge crowds will all clap and cheer,
As our Queen celebrates her 60th year.
People will be hoping to catch a glimpse
Of Her Majesty, and of Philip, her Prince.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Seal Colony
On leaving Inchcolm Island, on the rocks,
We spotted a large colony of seals.
The boat drifted in to take a closer look.
The noisy engine, the skipper killed.
It really was an amazing sight.
I'd never seen seals in the wild before.
Seeing them there with my own two eyes,
Left me feeling excited and in total awe.
Some were moving clumsily about.
Some were resting, 'bottling', in the sea.
Some were lying along their young pups.
It was wonderful to see them wild and free.
We got as close as we dared,
Without causing them any upset.
From where we were, they seemed content,
As we weren't posing them any threat.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Sunday Cycle Rides
Quite often, on a Sunday morning,
Dad and I would take a cycle ride.
Up the steep hills, we would struggle,
But, down them, we would glide.
We’d cycle to villages like Monxton,
Abbott’s Ann and St Mary Bourne.
We’d pass fields of lowing cattle,
As well as fields of golden corn.
Once, as we were passing some sheep,
I gently applied my brakes and stopped.
I stood watching the cute little lambs,
As they leapt, and jumped, and hopped.
We would cycle along the back roads,
And whiz along winding, country lanes.
I felt happy enough when the sun was out,
But not so much so, when it began to rain.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Golden Moon (Olympic Poem)
Tonight, over Great Britain, there's a golden moon,
As, over our Olympic athletes, we proudly swoon.
Between them all, they won plenty of medals,
Particularly those, whose power needs pedals.
We saw faces streaming with tears of pride;
We saw faces beaming with smiles, so wide.
Our Team GB athletes are the toast of our nation,
And they have helped to inspire a new generation.
All of our athletes, competing on home turf,
Showcased their skills and showed their worth.
They performed with great energy and with zest;
Many proving that they are the World's very best.
Each of them gave it their all, and they did us proud;
They were cheered on their way by an eager crowd.
They showed us that now was their moment to shine,
And up the medals table, our team quickly climbed.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Music To My Ears
The merry music of a colourful carousel.
The joyous ringing out of church wedding bells.
A bird singing its heart out, high up in a tree.
The waves crashing down upon the salty sea.
The skin of a snare drum, being played with brushes.
A waterfall - the dramatic way that the water rushes.
The audience's excited chatter prior to a show.
The melodious sound of the bassoon or the oboe.
The call of geese - their loud, trumpeting sound.
A music box, as its pretty ballerina dances around.
I adore some accents: some are really top-notch:
I love listening to the Geordies and to the Scotch.
The jangling bells and cracking sticks of Morris Men.
The loud, hourly chiming of London's iconic Big Ben.
The tinkling of wind-chimes, blowing this way and that.
The rhythmic and resonant purring of a contented cat.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Ruby Red Dragon
I am a ruby red dragon, with eyes of liquid gold;
My claws are sharp like needles, and my ruby blood runs cold.
I live my life in a deep, dark cave, which acts as my secret lair;
To come within a mile of my home, most folk would not dare.
I have sharp, pointed teeth, and a looooooong, swishy tail;
My breath doesn't smell that sweet: in fact, it smells quite stale.
My tongue is long and slender, and looks like a slithering snake.
Every night, I stretch my wings, and go for a fly across the lake.
To save myself from harm, I'm covered in numerous scales;
My armour plating protects me, and is as hard as metal nails.
My job is to guard a huge mountain of gold and silver treasure;
In scaring off little children, I have gained a lot of pleasure.
I am a fearsome, wild beast, and my heart cannot be tamed;
For breathing smoke and fire, I've won respect and worldwide fame.
To warn off any unwelcome visitors, I let out an almighty roar;
The visitor will then leg it, and they won't come back no more.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Breaking Free
A new life, for myself, I need to weave.
I need some oxygen, so as I can breathe.
From these chains, I need to break free;
I need the chance just to be totally me.
I need to escape now, from this prison cell;
Escape from this existence, I know so well.
Afraid of the world, in my corner, I cower;
I'm just like a bud, that's waiting to flower.
I can't go on like this forever and ever;
The storms in life, I will need to weather.
By your actions, my life has been affected;
I'm just like a child: my life is protected.
Sometimes it feels like I am suffocating.
For the perfect moment, I am still waiting.
You know that one day, I will go away;
Here, forever more, I just cannot stay.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Dancing Dragonflies
The first time I saw some dragonflies,
I could not quite believe my eyes.
They darted around by the willow trees,
With such sheer agility and amazing ease.
I had thought it an illusion, but it is true:
Their bodies really do shine electric blue.
Across the water, the dragonflies danced;
I watched their antics, feeling entranced.
Through the air, the dragonflies zoomed:
Like little lights, in the shadowy gloom.
Dancing about where the light was dimmer,
Their bright blue bodies shone and shimmered.
They gave the most skilful flying display,
And I couldn't quite drag my eyes away.
They really were such an awesome sight;
I couldn't help but give a gasp of delight.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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