Angela Wybrow Poems

I'm stood in the rehearsal room,
Going through my lines.
I glance at my watch:
It is very nearly time.
...

Factories, once engulfed by workplace smells,
Are now little more than empty shells.
Machinery, which once clanked and clattered,
Stands abandoned, broken and battered.
...

A gust of wind dislodges it from its bed;
It travels upwards and drifts far overhead.

It climbs on higher and then higher still;
It seems to possess its own free will.
...

She howls like a wolf, morning, noon, and night,
Whenever her family, are not within her sight.
I always know when none of her family are about,
As she barks and howls, until she wears herself out.
...

The Orb Weaver spider spins her web,
Round and round and round.
She works away slowly and silently,
Without making a single sound.
...

On any hot and sunny, summer's day,
Millions of bugs appear, to work and play.
Butterflies flit to and fro: they flit high and flit low;
Bringing a touch of beauty, wherever they may go.
...

Endless records being spun.
Everybody's having fun.
Girls wearing sparkly tops.
The cork from a champagne bottle pops.
...

I have often walked along that way,
But it wasn’t until earlier today,
That I saw a rare and wonderful sight,
Which filled my heart with such delight.
...

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.
...

To the ‘stags' standing up in my carriage,
I realise that one of you is soon to be married,
But please couldn't all of you just take a seat?
And do I really have to listen to that beat?
...