Angela Wybrow Poems

It is over twenty-five years ago,
Since this lady performed a live show:
Way back then, she was one of four,
Topping the charts with hit songs galore.
...

She ambles along with her eyes on the screen:
Doesn’t know where she’s going or where she has been.
Doesn’t know what’s behind her or up ahead:
If she’s not careful, she may end up dead.
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At me, you stand there and snigger,
But when you are a little bit bigger,
You may well start to realise,
That not everybody has perfect eyes.
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I’m a Ford Fiesta, painted light blue,
With, may I add, a metallic hue.
I’m a cute little car and I’m pretty smart;
I’m a car which ranks pretty high in the charts.
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Late August, and the summer sun warmly burns,
But the leaves on the trees are beginning to turn;
It seems hard to believe, as the sky is so blue,
But the leaves at my feet insist that it’s true.
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Often when I travel by train,
I discover that my sleepy brain,
Very suddenly, comes alive
And jumps straight into overdrive.
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Whenever we are asked to fill out a form,
A question on ethnicity is now quite the norm;
For humans, the options include black, white and mixed,
But for teddy bears, there are different options to pick.
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I love to watch the night stars, as they glow;
They are one of nature’s ‘free for all’ shows.
Take the time to look upwards, towards the night sky,
And be amazed at the spectacle, which meets your eye.
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The coloured pedalos,
And the puppet show,
Are no longer in sight,
For the visitors’ delight;
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A sleek, black cat sat there in my path;
He soon wound himself round my calves.
I had never encountered the cat before,
But he was not shy - that was for sure!
...