Bugs (On a Summer's Day)
On any hot and sunny, summer's day,
Millions of bugs appear, to work and play.
Butterflies flit to and fro: they flit high and flit low;
Bringing a touch of beauty, wherever they may go.
Crimson red, with little black spots, is the ladybird.
My whole face lights up, whenever it's name is heard.
The honey bees, are industrious in their work:
Their responsibilities, they never ever shirk.
Then there's the ant, aka the earth excavation engineer;
One, I can stand, but a whole army feels me with fear.
I freeze with fear, when by a wilful wasp, I'm pursued.
They hang around, even when I don't have any food.
Likewise, different species of fly, varying in shape and size,
Look for food - to keep it covered, you'd be extremely wise.
Hoverflies, however, do pretty much as their name suggests,
But, unlike wasps, who look quite similar, they are not pests.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Park Life
Situated in a city, where life is all race, race, race,
Hyde Park is a sea of calm, with a much slower pace.
Acres of parkland are shrouded in bright sunlight,
And it has to be said, it really is a wonderful sight.
A skater skilfully negotiates a long line of cones.
People sit texting and chatting on mobile phones.
A couple cool off in the waters of the Serpentine:
Oblivious to bystanders, their two bodies entwine.
Watching a grey squirrel, some folk stand and stare,
But for these cute creatures, some do not much care.
Upon the bandstand, students rehearse Shakespeare,
Adding a touch of culture to this lovely atmosphere.
At the ticket office, for the boats, there is a long queue:
The rowing boats and pedalos, folk are all dying to use.
A large flock of seagulls, so very skilful in their flight,
Are eager for food, and, over it, they very viciously fight.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Wasps!
I’m walking home, along the road,
Carrying my shopping; a heavy load.
I hear a buzzing sound right by my ear,
And my whole body fills with fear.
Without even looking, I know what is there.
I’m afraid that it will get caught in my hair.
I stand there stock still and totally freeze;
I’m terrified of wasps, but don’t mind bees.
A frown appears upon my face and I pray,
That this worrying wasp, will soon go way.
Soon, he loses interest and gets off my case,
But, even so, I purposefully quicken my pace.
The wasp disappears and I’m on my own again,
Thankful that, on me, he didn’t inflict any pain.
To date, I’ve been lucky and haven’t been stung,
But I’m so totally dreading my first ever one.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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My Favourite Things
I love lots of things in life. By many things, I'm cheered.
By the time you've read the following list, you may think I'm a bit weird!
I love watching the penguins at the zoo.
I love the giraffes and the zebras too.
I love the sights and sounds of a carousel.
I love the distinctive toll of the Big Ben bell.
There are many shows I love on TV,
Like Doctor Who, Merlin, Coast and Glee.
I love eating out in Wetherspoons pubs.
I love eating Ben & Jerry's ice cream tubs.
I love to eat a slice of gooey chocolate cake.
I love to drink a thick, frothy milkshake.
I love the bassoon's deep resonant tone.
In summer, I love to eat an ice cream cone.
I love walking by the Thames on a sunny day.
I love cooked breakfasts when I go away.
I love watching swans swimming, gliding past.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Special Delivery
The postman got himself in to a bit of a mess:
And he delivered a letter to the wrong address.
The intended recipient would feel a lot better,
When, in her hand, she was holding the letter.
When she opened that letter, intended for her,
Emotions inside her would soon start to stir.
The letter had travelled across many a mile;
To her face, it would bring a great big smile.
The letter was from a soldier in Afghanistan:
Maybe it bore news from her beloved man?
I am sure that she cried when he was deployed.
Receiving the letter, she would be so overjoyed.
The light blue letter had travelled all that way;
I was sure it would make the young lady's day.
From her boyfriend she would be dying to hear;
Receiving his letter would bring her much cheer.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Colourful Camden
Today, I found myself in Camden Town;
I had time to spare, so I looked around.
It was a place that I had not visited before,
But it's a part of London, I'd love to visit more.
That area of London has a great atmosphere;
It is packed full of fun and full of real cheer.
Everywhere I went, there were massive crowds;
The colours and the sounds were extremely loud.
There were stalls selling food from around the world;
Stalls that sold everything, from books to fake pearls.
There was furniture, footwear, and patterned throws,
Cards, collectables, candles, and all kinds of clothes.
I could have had almost any type of food that I desired;
My taste-buds were tingling, and were almost set on fire;
Of colour and smells and sounds, there was a total riot;
The atmosphere in the marketplace was anything but quiet.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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What I Saw In London..
A full on confrontation between two angry guys,
Which made me stop in my tracks and avert my eyes.
At the Royal Festival Hall, a singer and a jazz band.
Couples whirling each other round the ballroom, holding hands.
A film crew by Gabriel's Wharf, filming 'Pop Up Quiz, '
Although, I haven't the faintest what that exactly is! ?
A young woman near the bridge of Blackfriars,
Performing operatic pieces till her hearts desire.
A middle aged man playing solo acoustic guitar,
Sat strumming away, just along from the riverside bar.
A lone trumpeter playing a rendition of 'Amazing Grace' -
I love buskers: They really add to the ambience of the place.
In Embankment Gardens, there was an American school band,
But I only stopped for a while, as the heat I just couldn't stand.
Under Waterloo Bridge, the famous book fair:
I looked around, but didn't buy anything there.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Dinosaurs In The Suburbs
Go to Crystal Palace Park in the dead of night,
And you are sure to be given a very big fright.
The dinosaurs, which you see there in the Park,
Suddenly all spring to life when it grows dark.
They stand stock still as statues during the day,
But, at night, they all chorus ‘Hip-hip- hooray! '
Around the Palace Park, the dinosaurs roam:
Looking for food, every inch they will comb.
They have resided at the Park for many a year;
Faint hearted folk will not dare venture near.
Some of the local neighbours, who live nearby
Have reported hearing the odd frightened cry.
The statues seem to cause a slight feeling of unease;
On seeing them, some folk simply stop and freeze.
During the day, the dinosaurs will do you no harm;
Some people think they even behold a slight charm.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Left Behind
Sometimes when people are leaving a train,
Behind them, personal belongings still remain.
It is totally amazing what items are found
Each day, on London's busy Underground.
The shelves at Lost Property are very neatly lined,
With an array of items, that people have left behind.
Here are just some of the things, they have retrieved;
Some items really have to be seen, to be believed!
School bags, containing a flask and lunch box,
A stuffed Japanese puffer fish, and a stuffed fox.
Purses, leather wallets, and bunches of keys,
Hats, scarves, gloves, and numerous brollies.
Walking sticks, crutches, and the odd wheelchair,
An array of children's toys, including teddy bears,
Briefcases and folders, containing important notes,
A selection of clothing, including jumpers and coats.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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An Indian Summer
After weeks of waiting, our summer is finally here.
For our late Indian summer, we all give a big cheer.
It’s early October and it’s a humid twenty five degrees;
Following days of dullness, it’s hot, with very little breeze.
Alive with people, are those sandy beaches, normally deserted;
There are children, women in bikinis, and with men, unshirted.
Unusually, for this time of year, much flesh is on display,
And the ice cream seller is still doing a really roaring trade.
By weathermen, this sunny spell was recently forecast,
But their expert word was doubted, due to times past.
This time, however, it seems they’ve got it right,
And it is, indeed, extremely hot, sunny and bright.
Office workers sat on benches, eating lunch, are now seen;
Normally, at this time of year, they’d be sat in the canteen.
People converge on the nation’s many public parks,
And stay until 7pm, when the days begin to get dark.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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