Monday, 4 August 2008

The Litte Flowepot

A little flower pot all alone,

Looking for a loving home.

Over the years he had grown many flowers,

Inside the window and away from the showers.



Geraniums, chrysanths and many more

Reds, pinks, yellows and blue azure.

He had so many tales to tell,

His sad little eyes began to well.



Life had been good at the very start,

He was shiny and new and VERY smart.

He tended the plants with loving care,

Some water here, some water there.



The bumblebees would call to say

"May we please take some nectar to-day?"

Their black and yellow striped suits they wore

To go and make honey in their store.



The little flower pot loved this life,

Away from all the toil and strife.

Then one day he slipped and fell,

The flowers knew that he was not well.



The little flower pot wept and cried

Thrown on the compost heap on his side

A little hedgehog scurrying by,

Said “little flowerpot do not cry.”



Autumn and winter turned into spring,

The little flower pot was caught up in string

And safe inside his sheltered lea

Two baby hedgehogs played with glee.



The little flower pot lives again,

In sunshine, tempest, storm and rain.

His hedgehog family he guards with pride

His face a grin from side to side.





Gypsy

Happy August!

Here comes August once again

Always smiling, wind, shine or rain

Time for holidays and fun

Under a happy warming sun.

School is over, hip hooray

Six long weeks of happy play

No more lessons, no more work

Yes we want to laze and shirk.

Off to the beach we go for a swim

Sun tan lotion from limb to limb

Then to sun bathe on the beach

Picnic Hamper within reach.

Ice cream cones to cool us down

Punch and Judy act the clown

Children buildings homes of sand

Happy laughter throughout the land.

So happy August please try and stay

We don’t want you ever to go away.

As family and friends all meet together

Every year under your umbrella,

Barbara Brewin

The Little Frog

A little frog came out one day

All he wanted to do was play

He looked around with his great big eyes,

But all he could see were some dragon flies.

Pink and yellow, blue and gold

They hovered overhead, a joy to behold

The little frog just said “good day”

You have your fun, Ill be on my way.

The lily pond lay just ahead

Large shiny leaves and one beautiful spread

Of White and golden lily heads

Nestling majestically in their beds.

A large lily pad came bobbing past

Ill make a boat, and it will have a mast.

The little frog jumped into the pond

But the leaf carried on floating to far beyond.

The little frog was all alone

“What shall I do? He said with a groan

A beautiful mermaid sat nearby

She smiled and the little frog went all shy

They sat in silence side by side

The mermaid’s tail her joy and pride

They sealed their meeting with a kiss

The frog turned into a prince, sheer bliss

Gypsy

The Birthday Card

I brought a birthday card yesterday
For my son on his natal day
It’s something I do on this date each year.
So why do I want to shed a tear?

Old Father Time never stands still
Your birthday always brings me a thrill.
Memories of the day you were born
Just before the break of Sunday’s dawn

With jet black hair and cornflower blue eyes
And the sweetest nose, just button size,
You were just so beautiful you see,
I said “you can’t belong to me”.

This beautiful baby changed my life
I was no longer just a wife.
A husband and son who needed me
Just two of us had changed to three.

Like the sands of time which never stand still
The years flew by up and downhill
From baby, toddler, to teens and young man
Just like a bridge the years did span.

A son of whom I am so proud
Although I don’t shout it aloud.
Now you’re a man with your own family
And my three grandchildren, a thrill to me

So happy birthday dearest son
I cry because your card just says “Love from Mum”
If only your dad were here to say
“Happy birthday son on this your day.”


© Barbara Brewin 01.08.08 All rights reserved

The Spider's Web

The spider spins away all night

Under the beams of the golden moonlight

Her gossamer webs she spins and weaves

It’s beauty spreads from trees and leaves

Her magic silver thread she spins

She has no need for needles and pins

Her magic patterns glisten in the light

Forming ghost like patterns in the night

The spider’s web is a work of art

Sheer magic, beauty from the heart

When winter comes all is not lost

The web is covered with a pure white frost

Her lace would grace a wedding gown.

With silver droplets for a crown

As daylight welcomes the day ahead

Our industrious spider goes to bed.

The Old Steam Train

Standing at the station

Waiting for the train

I hear a loud shrill whistle

There it is again.

Far off in the distance

Chuff Chuff Chuff I hear

Here comes a big black steam engine

It is on fire I fear!

From its chimney pours black smoke

The station’s full of fog

I see the driver stoke the fire

What is he doing with that log?

Step from the platform onto the train

There lingers the smell of a cherished cigar

The shabby seats all creak and groan

“We’re off “ shouts a voice from a megaphone.

The ticket collector comes along

With his dark uniform he stands grimly to attention

Tears the ticket right in half

Well what I said I dare not mention!

The doors are shut, the whistle blows

The guard dips the flag jumps in the guard van

Better get my head inside

Don’t want to be a dead man.

We’re off at last, to puff puff puff

The steam comes wafting back

I wheeze and splutter, cough and choke

Then into a tunnel, everything goes black.

Clickety click, clickety click, clickety click

The wheels go round and round

Out of the tunnel and into the light

Again the whistle blows – we’re seaside bound



Stop at a station by a water tank

Go and see the driver and his mate

They’re taking on water to turn to steam

This is a smell you love to hate.

We're nearly now at journey’s end

What an adventure this has been

Why would I put myself through all this you ask?

To relive the wonderful days of steam

The smell of steam goes through my lungs

I breathe in its aroma

You see I’m on a nostalgic memory trip

On a steam train going to Cromer

© Barbara Brewin. All rights reserved 29.07.2008

Sunday, 3 August 2008

The English Garden

Flowers gently swaying in the breeze,
Visited by black and yellow coated bumble bees
They take the pollen from the core
To make honeycomb, in their store.

The bushes lush and green with leaves
A ladybird climbs up with ease
Her dress red and black spotted polka dot
She sits near a wasp in the sunniest spot

A red admiral butterfly hovers above
His delicate wings like a gossamer glove
He leaves behind him a chrysalis cocoon
So many more butterflies will follow quite soon.

Our Blackbird friends now join the fray
They need twigs to build their nests in May
They forage round and look for worms
Mum and Dad taking it each in turns.

The coloured fish swim in the pond all day
Trying to chase toads and frogs away.
Blue and pink dragonflies fly over low
The newts look on with their bellies an orange glow.

The other birds pay a garden visit too
Redbreast robin, sparrow, thrush to name but a few
The starlings push to be first into the bird bath
Splashing water all over the path.

Squirrels, dormice, hedgehogs, a shrew
Even at night time they come out to view
The wild life animals - such a joy to behold.
These are life’s riches more precious than gold.

© Barbara Brewin 30.07.2008 All rights reserved