Biography of Angela Wybrow
I now live in Hampshire, UK. I have been writing poetry on and off for many years and really enjoy it. I love writing about a variety of topics and am hoping that there's something for everyone.
My first collection of work, entitled 'Through My Eyes' is now available, published by United Press at the price of £3.99 plus P&P. If you would like a copy, please contact me via my Facebook page (Angela Wybrow - Writer) .
I have a Facebook page dedicated to my poetry - so please 'Like' me on Facebook!
Angela Wybrow's Works:
Through My Eyes - United Press (2011)
A Magical Menagerie (2012)
Angela Wybrow Poems
A Headful Of Thoughts
I'm lying here, wide awake Trying hard to get some sleep; But my brain is totally buzzing, So it's useless counting sheep!
The Missing Sock
This afternoon, I had quite a big shock: I discovered that I have a missing sock! I put my socks inside the washing machine, But now one sock is nowhere to be seen.
Hot Air Balloon
I saw a hot air balloon flying over my house: Most of the time, it was as quiet as a mouse, But, every so often, its burners suddenly roared, And higher, up into the sky, it suddenly soared.
The Colours Of My Life
You’ve brightened up my life With colours bold and bright. Black and white and grey, They graced my every day.
People love to go skating, across the ice; It may be rather chilly, but it’s just so nice. People wrapped up in coats, gloves and scarves, Share each other’s company, and also some laughs.
A Spring Morning
The sky is the shade of cornflower blue; The clouds in the sky, are extremely few. Caught by the sunshine, everything glows. A fresh, cooling breeze, now gently blows.
A new life, for myself, I need to weave. I need some oxygen, so as I can breathe. From these chains, I need to break free; I need the chance just to be totally me.
The 'Potato' Poem
I love potatoes chopped up into chunky chips. I love spicy potato wedges, served up with dips. I love potato slices which have been fried in a pan: Of sautéed potatoes, I am the world's biggest fan.
He soars so high above the clouds; So high above the bustling crowds. He flies past vast galaxies of stars, Above the houses, shops and cars.
I take a deep breath and begin to blow, And soon the bubbles begin to flow. From my wand, the bubbles now stream; The sunshine makes the bubbles gleam.
On a gnarled piece on driftwood, This plump little bird is silently sat. It looks at me, then back at the river; It looks all around, this way and that.
Spring: New Beginnings
I have always loved the heralding of spring, When the spell of youth is cast upon everything. Gardens everywhere awaken from their sleep, As the sun, from behind the clouds, does peep.
This town is becoming like a ghost town; Many of our local shops are closing down. Once upon a time, this town was really hopping, But now people go elsewhere for their shopping.
A Snowy Day
I sense an unfamiliar brightness, and very soon, I'm awake. I go to my window, which is covered with tiny snowflakes. As far as the eye can see, there's a carpet of pure white: It's a magnificent and beautiful, but still rather rare, sight.
You can imagine our delight
When we found the old bomb-site:
A huge crater in the ground
On the outskirts of our town.
There were broken old bottles and battered old tellies,
Rusty old bikes and leaky old wellies;
There were wooden crates and broken brollies,
Rusty tin cans and supermarket trollies.