A Walk By The Water

As the thick foam disperses, it looks as though
A section of sea has been covered with white lace.
As one lot of water withdraws from the shore,
With another wave of water, it is rapidly replaced.

Along the shore, feeling lonely and abandoned,
Are rows of beach huts, and a few wooden boats;
Their once brightly coloured, perfect paintwork,
Is now peeling, and looks in need of a new coat.

The rows of beach huts, which I pass by,
Are painted colours of every possible hue.
The huts are unique: no two are the same;
There is purple, peach, and pale pink too.

Dozens of dogs race around the deserted beach;
Each of them seems to have such endless energy.
Dogs dart around here, there, and everywhere,
Barking loudly with joy, now that they're free.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Discovering Shakespeare

‘From you have I been absent in the spring.’
The words of Shakespeare have a truly lovely ring,
But, when I was younger, by his words, I was bored,
And his words, written on a page, by me, were ignored.

Now I’m older, I can see that his famous words,
Are actually among the loveliest I’ve ever heard.
Until recently, I couldn’t recite a Shakespeare speech,
But, slowly, line by line, myself, I did teach.

Of his work, I love the rhythm and rhyme,
As it makes it much easier to learn each line.
Being able to recite a short speech, I felt proud,
As I had never performed any of his work aloud.

I was really amazed at what I’d been able to achieve,
And now, from my mind, his words will never leave.
When I feel low, in my mind, his words I recall -
They lift my mood, just as I am about to fall.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Poetry Obsession

I have been writing poetry for just over a year;
That I love poetry, I guess, it's perfectly clear.
My output, to date, has been really quite prolific.
I feel pleased with my work, but it's not terrific.

Now is the time for me to make a confession:
For me, poetry has become a bit of an obsession!
Now I find that, sometimes when I speak,
My sentences unintentionally rhyme! Eeek!

My poems total over three hundred in number;
Sometimes, composing them affects my slumber.
Of my poetry, I admit I feel really rather proud,
But I feel way too shy to read them out aloud.

Often, when I'm out walking, or I'm sat on a train,
Ideas will manifest themselves deep in my brain.
I often find myself spending quite some time,
Pondering the two factors of rhythm and rhyme.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Marvels of Music

A world without music would be so very plain.
From music, spiritually, there’s a lot to be gained.
It lifts your soul, when you’re feeling a bit down.
It is considered one of the best medicines around.

Through music, many emotions we can express.
It is one of the best known busters of stress.
There’s a wealth of rhythms the world wide.
Their power to pull people can’t be denied.

Music comes in so many different forms:
No one type could be considered the norm.
Without music, church bells wouldn’t chime
And our fingers and feet wouldn’t beat time.

Music unites the masses together in a single song,
Even when everything around us is going wrong.
In our bodies, we feel the beat.
To the music, we move our feet.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Summer On The South Bank

Nothing quite beats strolling along
London's South Bank in the sun.
From the cafes and bars laughter is heard.
The vibe is electric. There's a real sense of fun.

Like a giant bicycle wheel,
Turning slowly, is the London Eye.
Its numerous see-through pods
Carrying passengers way up high.

The 'Appearing Rooms' art installation,
Has constantly dancing water jets.
Small children in swimwear, shriek with joy,
As them, the water cools and wets.

In the ballroom at the Royal Festival Hall,
There's often entertainment for free.
You can watch singers, dancers or musicians,
While sitting having cake and a cup of tea.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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On Seeing My First Fox

Travelling on a train through Surrey, close to Virginia Water –
Due to engineering works, my route had been slightly altered –
I decided to look out of the window, so I turned my head,
And it was then I spotted a lightning flash of orangey-red.

Of course, I’d seen many pictures of foxes in books and on TV,
But an actual living, breathing one, had never been seen by me.
Thrilled by what I was seeing, I gave a small gasp of delight;
It was the first time I’d seen a fox, so it was a memorable sight.

I was excited at seeing the fox, and I was unable to hide my surprise.
Foxes are one of my favourite animals and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
He was on the embankment, and, from the train, he headed away.
I only glimpsed the fox quite briefly, but it really made my day.

I’ve been lucky enough to glimpse a few more foxes since then,
But you never can tell where they will turn up or, indeed, when.
On a train journey to Birmingham, I was as watchful as can be:
Luck was with me that day, as I saw not one, not two, but three!

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Torch' Relay Hits Town

From many miles around, the people came
To catch a glimpse of the Olympic Flame.
The Torch was the focus of a huge celebration:
It visited places the whole length of the nation.

The excited crowds began to steadily flock
In to the town centre at around three o'clock.
As crowds waited to see the lucky Torchbearers,
They agreed that the weather could not be fairer.

Local children were given the day off from school:
They all considered that this was really quite cool!
Many of the local roads were temporarily closed:
A nightmare for motorists, this arrangement posed.

I felt disappointed that I had to work on that day,
But to the doorway of our shop, I made my way.
I could hear the assembled crowd's excited cheers,
And I knew that the Torch must be drawing near.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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One Little Comment

One little comment can really change your life;
It can make you feel good or cut you like a knife.
As a result, you may now want to try something new,
Or with an aspect of life, you may now be through.
You mull the comment over and take it to heart;
The speaker of the comment, unaware they’ve played a part.

The chances are that, of the comment, the speaker has forgotten,
But you are now left feeling really encouraged or really rotten.
Some comments are just throw-a-ways,
But they can easily make or break your day.
Some comments stick forever in your mind,
Whether they’re really hurtful or really kind.

Many years later, a comment you may still be able to quote;
It could be one which made you sink or one which made you float.
You will probably still be able to recall it word for word,
And even imitate the tone in which the comment was first heard.
As the result of a comment, you may feel better or worse,
And the speaker of the comment, you’ll either love or curse.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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My Feathered Friend

You were my funny, little feathered friend;
To your every need, I would always tend.
You’d stand under a running tap, trying to catch the drips.
In your brightly coloured birdbath, you loved to take a dip.

In your mirror, you thought you’d found a new mate,
And your food, for him, you’d, very kindly, regurgitate!
For hours on end, you could roam freely out of your cage;
You’d happily spend ages, shredding a newspaper page.

Some of your acrobatics, used to scare me half to death;
Scared that you’d fall and hurt yourself, I’d hold my breath.
On the lace curtains, you’d sometimes catch your claws.
I had to be extremely careful, when I opened any doors.

Through the rungs of your ladder, you’d sometimes squeeze;
This often worried me, but you, it really seemed to please.
I’d often give you a freshly washed, lettuce leaf to eat,
But you bathed on it instead, and thought it was a treat.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Singer/Songwriter (Leddra Chapman)

(This poem was inspired by the singer/songwriter, Leddra Chapman.)

This singer songwriter, of only nineteen years of age,
Is met by warm applause, as she takes to the stage.
She acknowledges her fans and bids them a cheery ‘hello.’
This evening, she’s accompanied by keyboard and cello.

As she stands on stage, tuning her guitar,
She still can’t believe that she has come this far.
She soon launches into her first song.
Her fans join in and joyously sing along.

With her audience, she happily interacts.
Fans, into every venue, she manages to pack.
She is able to light up an entire room,
When, all around us is doom and gloom.

Her outfit gives her a slightly hippie appearance,
Which, with her long blonde hair, gives her endearance.
Her manner is easy and light.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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