Friday, February 13, 2009

The Chocolate Fairy

Last night
The chocolate fairy
Came to my room
While I slept
And took away my chocolate.

My brother said, Yes –
You have to be very careful
Where you put your chocolate
When you go to bed
In case the Chocolate Fairy comes.

And so the next night
I hid it under my pillow.

In the night
I woke up.
Someone was feeling under my pillow.
It was my brother.

Just checking, he said,
That your chocolate is safe
In case the Chocolate Fairy comes.

And I thought, Hmmm…
I wonder if there’s
A Big Brother Fairy.

(This is from the collection I’m currently getting together for younger children.)

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Three Pub Sonnets 3

A slant of sunlight on the time-worn wood
An old boy reads his paper in the snug
The landlord dreams of days when life was good
In the saloon Gran’s longing for a hug
The horse brasses hang from a smoke-stained beam
No Smoking notices offend the eye.
Where once trains stopped with gentle sighs of steam
Trucks on the carriageway go roaring by.
Now through the hallowed doors come Bob and Liz
“Have you got Sky? Man U are on tonight.
Some prawn and mayo crisps, an alcofizz
And as for me – I’ll have a lager LITE.”
“We’ve none of those things, sir, oddly enough...
And so... might I suggest you both sod off?!”

Friday, February 06, 2009

Three Pub Sonnets 2

The noise subsides, the chatter settles like
The Guinness on the bar. Loud speakers rattle
Optics. Says Jim, into the booming mic,
Welcome to the quiz. Ten teams will battle
For the prize – a jug of ale and five
Crisp ten pound notes. Ready? Okay, let’s go!
What is the capital of Uruguay?
Frustrated groans – and cheers from those who know.
An argument erupts. Who won the darts
In 1980? John Lowe did, Dad shouts.
Gran whispers Eric Bristow. Says Dad – Don’t start!
You’re pants at sport! Gran sulks into her stout.
And when the quiz is won by “Right Says Fred”
Gran, proved right, decants the stout upon Dad’s head.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Three Pub Sonnets 1

I’m sorry that I have to break the news.
But I’m afraid things aren’t as they appear
And seemingly straightforward things confuse.
You do sell spirits, cider, wine and beer
Your customers, upon those fancy stools,
Do moan or boast of bloody conquests past
Or talk about the game and why the rules
Are wrong. But that’s a cocktail in that glass!
Those rows of vintage wines, the skinny latte
Or decaff, the rolling news, the chef from France,
The art by Jean Pierre Antoine de Monet.
And whither the bar billiards? Or the darts?
Perchance you dream. Aye, there’s the ready rub.
You are a trendy wine bar. Not a pub.