Please take a moment to read about this wonderful project I’m lucky to be part of.
http://peperibooks.blogspot.com/
Any questions, please let me know 🙂
13/02/2011
“At Home with Words” Cancer Research UK project
14/03/2010
Haiku
old man bowed his head
awaiting the winter rest
hasty frozen grip
                                                                          ****
in the burning sun
on a sunday afternoon
glass of lemonade
                                                                           ****
he arrived early
a father-daughter embrace
green-eyed freckled girl
Happy Mother’s Day!!!
Today is Mothering Sunday. Hope every Mum receives lots of extra hugs and kisses from her children, hope today is very very special 🙂
Here’s a story I wrote for my kids a couple of weeks ago. I know, I know…still a bit clunky, but as soon as I stop procrastinating I’ll sort it out 🙂
.
“Alfie Brown’s Day Off School”
The winter was snowy              Â
And turned the world white.
The village of Giggleswick
Woke from a very cold night.
.
The kettles got busy,
The dogs wagged their tails.
The adults kept yawning
And moved slower than snails.
.
The parents poached eggs
And the children had toast,
On crisp Monday morning
Decorated by frost.
.
The voice on the radio
Advised to keep warm.
It said the school’s closed
Due to the snowstorm.
.
Most children went out
To build a snowman,
But young Alfie Brown
Had his own curious plan.
.
“That’s cool,” he grinned
And ran to his room.
“I’ll set up my rocket
For launch this afternoon.”
.
He put on his spacesuit
And helmet with microphone.
Then spoke to space traffic control
With a professional tone.
.
“The Moon expedition
Is ready for …”
Alfie stopped talking
And stared at the floor.
.
He rubbed his eyes,
Then dropped his toy,
Because in front of him
Stood the tiniest boy.
.
“Who are you?” asked Alfie.
“And how did you get here?
I’m busy commanding.
You must not come near.”
.
“My rocket is ready
To fly to the Moon,
So cover your ears
In case it goes BOOM!”
.
The little boy shivered
And whispered: “Hello,
I’m Peter the Crumbeater
And I live one floor below.”
.
“My house has been frozen
For three days and three nights now,
So I have been sleeping
Inside your old nightgown.”
.
Alfie looked puzzled.
“One floor below?
There’s nothing down there
Except for the burrow.”
.
“It’s under your floorboards.
I don’t need much space,”
Said Peter the Crumbeater
With a smile on his face.
.
“Your rocket looks awesome!
Please let me watch.
It’s so exciting
To countdown for launch.”
.
“I’ve eaten your cheese crumbs
And I’d like to repay
By helping your mission.
So, what do you say?”
.
Alfie considered,
Then said, “Please do.
The mission’s success
Depends on its crew”.
.
“Thank you, Commander,”
Said Peter saluting.
“I’m waiting for orders,
Whatever needs doing.”
.
They opened all windows
Facing east side of town.
Then took the positions
And started the countdown.
.
The rocket reached ceiling,
Then fell on Alfie’s head.
It gave him two bruises
And crashed on his bed.
.
They tried five more times
Without any luck.
The rocket hit furniture
And kept getting stuck.
.
“I have an idea,”
Said Peter excited.
“I’m small enough
To fit in inside it.”
.
“Fantastic!” yelled Alfie
And helped Peter in.
Explained the controls
And checked rocket’s engine.
.
“Have fun and eat
As much as you please.
The moon’s made of crackers
And best kind of cheese.”
.
Alfie then waved
 And shouted: “Goodbye!”
Peter waved back
And gave him a smile.
.
He flew out the window
And above the tall trees.
Towards the Moon
Made out of cheese.
.
All boys and girls,
Please don’t forget
To wave to Peter
Who flies in his rocket.
.
He flies round the Moon
And turns the stars on.
He eats cheese for lunch
And sleeps at dawn.
13/03/2010
“Insomnia”
The night creeps lazily on the ground
and whips the world with stinging tail.
The hunt for grovelling victims
knows no mercy and compassion.
She throws her weight around with me;
loud hissing calls for blind obedience.
The artisan of gloom illusions,
she claws her way to my conscious
and summons me to the Mystic Kingdom
of darkness and obscurity.
.
Oh, how I relish her flawed instincts!
Her sham methods and misperception.
This is my triumph and my victory.
She fails to soothe my racing heart
and tries in vain to swoon my psyche;
her wicked blows ricochet off me.
She disappoints and dissatisfies me
with her neophyte-like ignorance.
Still, I choose to play her sordid game,
silent masquerade of defeat.
.
I hear my footsteps on the lino;
resonance of the ticking clock.
Silence is an unwelcome mate.
I laugh out loud to mask unrest
sensing vibrations of my pounding heart.
Victory loses ground to fear
menacing in its lady’s cloak.
Herculean task of setting foot
in confines of my barren bed.
I reach for ashtray and cigarettes.
.
Raw screams and cries of howling wind,
they summon me to join the dance.
The litter’s clanking in the yard.
I count the seconds of eternity,
then toss and turn in web of darkness.
I long for dreamless sleep and rest.
The night is punishing me for fraud.
No lucid dreams for who betrays her,
the sentence is harsh and unrelenting.
She’ll shatter me like a pane of glass.
“The Man and His City”
he grew up in this city’s dirt
flying paper aeroplanes into ceiling sky
holding to his mother’s skirt
frightened of the shopping windows
where the frozen mannequins
stared with deadly eyes
he became a man in this city
where behind wrought iron gates
lived a girl with freckles
who stole his willing heart as
it matched her polka dot red dress
they kissed in the clouds of cigarettes
and matched their footsteps blending in with crowds
he grew old in this city
where the street lamps marked his route
and the townhall clock marked his life
unrecognized passer-by
staring in and staring out
old man who fed the pigeons
and loved his city like his wifeÂ