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.
Each bubble forms the most perfect sphere.
My eyes see colours in something so clear.
A colourful rainbow can now be seen:
There’s orange, purple, blue and green.
At the stream of bubbles, I stand and stare,
As they float silently downwards through the air.
In each of the bubbles, the world is reflected;
By gravity, to the ground, each bubble’s directed.
I’m expecting the bubbles to burst on impact,
But, on the ground, many stay fully intact.
Across the ground, the bubbles bounce along:
They seem to be saying ‘We are strong! ’
The bubbles I blow are both big and small;
Sometimes I blow and there’s no bubble at all!
Watching the bubbles form and take flight,
Fills my heart with a sense of delight.
On the ground, a big bubble lands:
There for a moment, it silently stands.
Its existence on Earth comes to a stop,
When, without warning, it bursts with a POP!
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Comments about this poem (Blowing Bubbles by Angela Wybrow )
- I had shied away, hasmukh amathalal
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- Those sensations تلك الاحاسيس, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- The God gives, hasmukh amathalal
- Small fishes, Melikhaya Zagagana
- When you're old, JJ Evendon
- The story of the soap, Melikhaya Zagagana
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