Wrap Up Warm

Shouting at the ocean is unlikely to halt the tide
Railing against the storm will only strain your throat
Crying into an empty bed will only make the night darker
Love may melt the coldest heart but on a winter’s day it’s much better to wear a coat.

Passion for Poetry

(Published in February’s Red House catalogue.)

I was thirteen years old when my Dad gave me an anthology by Arnold Silcock called Verse and Worse. It was full of parodies, jokes, limericks and all sorts of oddities - and I loved it. From spoofs of such classics as Browning’s How I Bought the Good News From Aix to Ghent (or Vice Versa) by the authors of 1066 and All That to nursery rhymes such as

Doctor Bell fell down the well
and broke his collar bone.
Doctors should attend the sick
and leave the well alone.

I found them all clever and fascinating. I recently bought a copy from a second-hand bookshop (Hurrah that there are still some left) to replace my copy, which, nearly fifty years later, is falling apart. I was thrilled to find it because it was Verse and Worse that inspired me to start my life-long poetry-writing career.

At school I had a brilliant English teacher called Mr Nichols. He helped me unlock the mysteries of Chaucer, Wordsworth and Shakespeare. Reading again The Rime of the Ancient Mariner still makes the hairs (those that are left) on the back of my neck stand up and try to run.

But my next big poetry adventure was the Mersey Poets, in particular Roger McGough. They were the English equivalent of the Beat Poets, riding in on the wave of Beatlemania, and bringing a rush of fresh air to English poetry. Roger McGough is probably still my favourite poet, writing as he does so brilliantly for both children and adults. He does funny; he does sad; he does wise; he does puns. And I do like puns - as much as I don’t like "getting a potato clock." (What a great poem that is.)

And today there are so many brilliant poets around. The amazing Billy Collins, so easy to read, so clever, so subtle; Simon Armitage; Carol Anne Duffy, and so many good children’s poets too, among the best being Michael Rosen, Children’s Laureate.

No time to read? Then why not keep a couple of poetry books by your bed to read before you turn out the light. Poems are short, packed with good things, they’ll make you think, they’ll make you laugh and they’re good for you. Children love them, even boys who prefer football to reading will often happily sit and read a good book of poems. If I’m preaching to the converted – great. If not buy yourself a few poetry books and find out what you’ve been missing.

Lesser Known Children's Games

Scribble
Tease the Tiger
Throw the Worm Over the Wall
Shout Monkey!
Who's Hidden Harriet?
How Far Can You Fall?

Hop Irish.
Skip Welsh.
Jump Over the Moat
Chase the Goldfish
Hurl the Spoon
Put the Coat on the Stoat

Last One Up the Chimney is a Sooty Beggar
Turnip Ball
Kiss the Rat
Snakes and Larders
Pancake Frisbee
Put the Hat on the Spratt

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.)

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?!”

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.

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.