A Point Of View
I’m saying it’s a bucket,
a child’s plastic sandcastle building bucket,
that’s been washed up on the shore.
Someone left it, lost it, or,
as summer drew to a close,
decided to chuck it.
The sea took it.
Knocked it around for a while.
Decided to give it back.
I didn’t kick it.
New Arrival
Welcome to your home by the sea.
I know you won’t actually be
sailing on it. We can both agree
on that but I promise it is close by.
I can smell its saltiness and,
with the door open, hear it roar.
But it would make mincemeat, or
should I say… splinters, of you.
Also appeared on blipfoto.com today
Peace
It is hard to believe
that this sea can be rough.
The sun rose above it today.
And the obliging wind
sucked in its cheeks
and went away.
It was only days (not weeks)
ago that a storm lifted roofs
and brought chimneys down.
You wouldn’t think that could be so
if you left the beach, now,
and strolled through the quiet town.
Originally appeared on blipfoto.com
Previous #NaPoWriMo entries:
Hers won’t remember.
They never do.
They lead busy lives you see.
And don’t get to visit as much as they’d like to.
So this Sunday,
this Mothering Sunday,
she’ll buy her own.
Then it’s back home
on the off chance
that one of them
will think to phone.
I’ve used this song for many years and find it works very well as a template for children to work on their own ideas, putting in the things that they like and looking for rhymes. As a special Christmas gift we’ve turned it into a video.
When there’s a big cake in the kitchen
When there’s holly in the hall
When there’s tinsel round the telly
And presents wall to wall
When there’s mistletoe and ivy
And a decorated tree
I know something’s going on
You can’t fool me
(i)
This year,
though not by choice,
Santa Claus is spending Christmas
with his in-laws.
Ask him why
and he’ll just sigh
and say
‘Because…’
(ii)
Indoors
grim as a blizzard
prickly as holly
charming as a burst pipe
Mrs Santa…claws!
(iii)
Outdoors
the reindeer have downed sleigh
and are moaning
about the increased work-load
and the frozen pay.
Led by hard-nosed Rudolf the Red
(who, contrary to popular belief, is not nice)
they are imposing a work to rule
– a no slide rule on the ice
– a go slow on the snow.
Most folk, thinks Santa, just don’t realise,
being the boss is not all mince pies
and Ho! Ho! Ho!
(iv)
After much negotiation
and hard snowballing
Santa and the reindeer
have reached an agreement.
The Christmas delivery is safe.
Unlike Santa, who,
hurrying to and fro,
slips on the fast freezing snow.
Oh! Oh! Ow!
(v)
Christmas Day.
Work done.
Santa watches his mother-in-law
(a tough old bird)
wrestling with the turkey.
Boxing Day!
The fight goes on.
Two falls and a submission.
It’s over.
The turkey’s won.
(vi)
Sometimes
(don’t you know, know, know)
Santa, too, wrestles;
has a bout with self-doubt,
and loses.
At times
(don’t you know, know, know)
he even finds it hard
to believe in himself
himself.
This year,
to get him through this crisis,
to save him from distress,
I’m conducting a little survey
to discover, more or less,
who still believes in Father Christmas.
So if you do, shout YES!
Bernard Young is an experienced performance poet who is available for workshops in schools, particularly primary age (KS1/KS2). He’s based in Manchester, but happy to travel further afield. Over the years he’s also worked successfully in partnership with Road Safety officers combining the road safety message with creative writing. To book Bernard for a workshop in your school, see Contact page.
This Poem is from “Brilliant” and is available as a card from Redbubble: http://www.redbubble.com/people/youngpoet/works/9459104-santa-claus-aint-coming
I was very fortunate to be one of 120 people in the intimate audience at Hunmanby Community Centre last night for a poetry evening. Carol Ann Duffy, one of the most significant names in contemporary British poetry, read a selection of her older and more recent work, accompanied in a couple by the very entertaining woodwind musician, John Sampson, who also performed in her breaks on an abundant array of older and more recent woodwind instruments.
As I’d had the tickets for some time, in preparation, I had been rereading my Carol Ann Duffy collection, and was pleased to hear her perform some that were already familiar to me. I was enlightened by her introductions, explaining where she drew her inspiration and what references and nuances there were in the words. I particularly like her use of list-like poems and admire her word craft, how she places rhymes in less formal spaces… and her comic timing. I hadn’t realised that “The Counties” (in “The Bees”) was a protest inspired by the Post Office’s campaign to lose the county from postal addresses, because of its distraction from the post code.
I’m sure I’ve drunk in a lot of the traditional pubs listed so fluidly in “John Barleycorn”. Carol Ann read quite a few others from her last published anthology (“The Bees” 2011), which has a thread running through of the environmental concerns of the loss of bees. “The Human Bee” (in the title of this post) refers to people in China who have the job of pollinating fruit trees by hand because they have no bees to do it any more.
When the wind is blowing
And snow is on the way
Get your woolly hat on
Wrap up warm today
And sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up rap
Find a scarf and good thick gloves
Don’t forget your coat
Be prepared for the attack
When Jack Frost grabs your throat
And sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up rap
Here comes thunder
Here comes hail
Hear the thunder
Dodge the hail
And sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up rap
Hat for head
Socks for toes
In your scarf
Bury your nose
And sing the wrap up
Sing the wrap up
Sing that wrap up rap
Bernard Young is an experienced performance poet who is available for workshops in schools, particularly primary age. He is based in Manchester, but will travel further afield. Over the years he has also worked successfully in partnership with Road Safety officers, combining the road safety message with creative writing. For more info, see the Contact page.
I’ve seen some posts on facebook about the fact that cold weather in winter is no surprise, it happens every year. It reminded me to share a poem about it.
Take a misty morning
A foggy night
A snuffly nose
A snowball fight
An icy road
Warm woolly tights
Add chilblain pain
A wind that bites
Then summon sleet
Think thoughts of white
Now look outside
It’s winter. Right?
Bernard Young is an experienced performance poet who is available for workshops in schools, particularly primary age. He is based in Manchester, but will travel further afield. Over the years he has also worked successfully in partnership with Road Safety officers, combining the road safety message with creative writing. For more information, see the Contact page.
Bernard Young Poet 