Angela Wybrow Poems

With her caramel fur, and long, floppy ears,
Seeing Katie go for her walk, brings me cheer.
Away from her mistress, she excitedly bolts;
Over neighbour’s fences, she effortlessly vaults.
...

Stood, browsing, in a bookshop, I heard someone call my name;
I recognised the person, but, somehow, she didn’t seem the same.
Apart from the fact that, she had changed the colour of her hair,
It was almost like looking at a whole new person, standing there.
...

It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon;
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down,
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.
...

At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
...

January, and the daffodils are showing their heads;
Pushing their way up from their deep, wintry bed.
At the sight of them, I can't help, but be amazed.
With them, the grassy bank will soon be ablaze.
...

I can see the 10.06 train heading towards Waterloo,
And, I wish I could jump aboard, and go there too!
I have a real longing to head on up to London City,
But I have to go to work today, which is a real pity.
...

The moon hangs in the sky, shining so bright;
Everything below, enveloped in a silvery light.
Once darkened corners, are now subtlely lit,
As, silhouetted against the moon, bats now flit.
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A poet who is without a pen,
Is like a lion that has no den.
Like a hotdog with no mustard,
Or like jelly with no custard.
...

While I was out walking,
I saw a little cat.
So I called him on over
For a little chat.
...

She was built in the city of Belfast;
She was a ship that was built to last.
She was rumoured to be unsinkable,
But, soon happened, the unthinkable.
...