Angela Wybrow Poems

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.
...

A remarkable singer, by the name of Mary-Jess,
Stands on stage, in a gorgeous, flowing dress.
She opens her mouth and her singing is sweet.
To hear her sing her songs live is truly a treat.
...

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.
...

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.
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While I was out walking,
I saw a little cat.
So I called him on over
For a little chat.
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In a coffee shop window, I sit and stare
At all the people passing by, out there.
In London town, literally anything goes:
Zany hairstyles, as well as crazy clothes.
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The local residents are all up in arms,
Worried that their town may lose its charm.
With hundreds of new houses, they are faced,
But plans to oppose them, are firmly in place.
...