Mr Bumblebee

Look at Mr Bumblebee,
He’s such a handsome fellow.
So proud and smart and stripy:
Ventablack and fire yellow.
A distinctly busy chap,
Always working, never stops.
He has an internal map,
Which means he never gets lost.
See him flying everywhere,
Doing an important job.
Never resting on a chair,
No-one could call him a slob.
With the arrival of spring,
He works overtime all day.
Tirelessly on the wing,
No time to enjoy his pay.
Dear Mr Bumblebee,
You have earned a little rest.
Sit with me and drink honey,
Taste the fruits of your success.
Mr Bumblebee drawing

But for now, just sleep.

Slowly, I open the door.

Quietly, I walk in.

Flat out on your back

And arms spread wide like a hug,

You sleep.


Gently, your breath,

In and out,

In and out,

Fills my heart.


Too soon, the day will start.

Rushing around,

Getting ready for school,

Hurrying out the house.

But for now, just sleep.


Golden hair cascades in waves

Over the pillow.

Eyelids flicker ceaselessly.

Of what do you dream?


You do not know that I am here.

You do not know how grateful I am

To be so.

Soon the day will begin.

But for now, my beautiful girl,

Just sleep.


Softly you breathe,

In and out,

In and out.

And every breath sounds like







National poetry day: freedom

What does freedom mean to me?

Freedom to write about anything I like

Without worrying what they think.

Freedom to dance like I’ve had too much to drink.

Freedom to question, to figure out what I believe in.

Freedom to talk about my faith, even if people don’t like it.

Freedom from fear of death.

Freedom to pray.

Freedom to draw silly doodles and to bake flat cakes.Autumn drawing.jpg

Freedom to jump in Autumn leaves and to read a book under a tree.

Freedom to enjoy the life that I’ve been given, for as long or short as it will be.

Freedom to be nobody else, just me.

The best me that I can be.



The clouds

Do you ever lie on your back
And look at the clouds?
I did that the other day and thought
about loss.
An anniversary that nobody wants to
But it’s still as real as any birth or wedding day.
A grainy scan photo tucked away
A reminder of the unhappy day.
A knowledge that something was
A kind doctor who reminded me of
The loss of a lot of blood,
and then
A tiny rainbow in a sunny summer sky.
Finally, saying goodbye.
Wondering who you would be
And whether you would look like
I lie on my back sometimes,
And look at the clouds.

The night before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house

No laptop was whirring, nor a computer mouse.

The children were tucked up in their warm cosy beds

While dreams of tablets and scooters danced round their heads.

Mum and Dad watched a box set, on sofa sat

with hot chocolate, popcorn and Toby the cat.


A glass of milk and ginger biscuits on a plate

For a special guest on coffee table did wait.

“Let’s go to bed,” Mum said yawning, “it’s getting late.”

“Soon a visitor will be opening the gate.”

“Yes,” agreed Dad, “I have wrapped all of our gifts,

I’m glad my boss hasn’t got me working night shift.”


When the family were finally fast asleep,

In the garden landed reindeer without a peep.

And out from the sleigh that they magically lead,

stepped Father Christmas, dressed in white and red.

“Reindeer, wait here. I have some gifts to deliver.”

“I’ll be back soon. I see the snow makes you shiver.”

Then the jolly old man took out his magic key

and unlocked the front door slowly and quietly.


He was just putting our presents under the tree

When he looked up with a smile and spotted me!

I had heard a noise and crept slowly down the stair

And could hardly believe who I saw standing there.


“Sorry!” I gasped. “I didn’t know you were real.”

“I am!” He chuckled. “Will you join me in my meal?”

So we sat on the sofa and enjoyed our snack

While Toby purred happily on Santa’s lap.

“What’s it like, travelling round the world,” I asked

“each Christmas eve, it must be a difficult task?”

“I love seeing all of the countries,” he replied,

like Poland, Botswana, Japan and Paraguay.

People live in interesting homes, that’s for sure,

In tents, wooden huts, caves and on the sea shore.

All children are unique in such different ways

But with a love of toys and play, they’re all the same.”


I ate my crunchy biscuit and answered “Say,

I’ve never thought of it before in that way.

The other children might not look or talk like me,

But we all need fun, and the love of our family.”



“I must be going,” he said, “I have elf-made toys

To deliver to many little girls and boys.”


I looked out of the window to see the sleigh

With reindeers and Father Christmas, flying away.

I heard his happy call as he flew out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”



The autumn leaves remind me



Walking through the trees

Walking through the trees on tiptoe

Collecting fallen leaves.

Trying not to wake Gruffalo

Best to leave him asleep.

Finding mushrooms (or fairy seats)

You can look but don’t eat.

This twig a branch for owls to stand

Or could it be Stick Man?

The air is heavy with wood-smoke.

Hard to see but so real

Just like