Poison stars thread silk

in deathly constellations.

Cricket’s song unsung.

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Well, I don’t pretend to be any good at Haiku but I’m emerging from a very dry spell (training as a psychotherapist is draining my creative juices) and thought I’d have to write something. James Carter once said he writes haiku when he’s short of ideas. So, it seems a valid exercise. James hates limericks. I like them. So, here’s one I wrote this morning.

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Bill was a corgi from Kent

The Queen said “your tail is bent!

But wag it, dear fella,

and like a propellor ,

you’ll pass by with royal ascent.”

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Madam Topping assures me that the plural of “haiku” is “haiku.” So, thank you Ma’am and apologies to all…

]]> http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/2011/05/30/haiku/feed/ 2 Paul Hughes 2111410062_9af3212afb http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/2011/04/29/mix-up-mum/ http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/2011/04/29/mix-up-mum/#comments Fri, 29 Apr 2011 21:38:51 +0000 Paul Hughes http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/?p=1092 ]]>

The car is in the sitting room,

the sofa’s on the street.

She wears her slippers on her hands,

her gloves upon her feet.

You think that’s bad? This evening

she called “it’s tea-time Kate!”

My chips are in the toilet.

And what’s that on my plate?

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Alice Hughes (with help from Daddy) 2011

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Aliceis 6 and wrote most of this. I just tidied it a little. Of course, she’s entirely to blame for the toilet humour element…

Mumble Bee, speak clearly!

I can’t hear a word you’re saying.

Careful, silly Stumble Bee

and don’t fall over, playing!

Fumble Bee, just put it down!

“It’s fine, Miss Bumble!” SMASH!

Tumble Bee, get down from there!

“It’s cool Miss Bumble!” CRASH!

What a mess, young Jumble Bee!

It’s time to clear away!

Stop that whining Grumble Bee!

You’re grumpier each day.

Good work, little Humble Bee!

Yes, three and two makes five!

If only all the other bees

would learn how to BEHIVE!

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Paul Hughes 2011

]]> http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/2011/04/25/be-cool-bee-school/feed/ 2 Paul Hughes bee http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/2011/04/16/fish-n-ships/ http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/2011/04/16/fish-n-ships/#comments Sat, 16 Apr 2011 07:10:39 +0000 Paul Hughes http://jakethecake.wordpress.com/?p=1078 ]]>

Crab-Catcher Ned is no more, he is dead.

They found him pan-fried in his skillet.

And Whaler-man Bill seemed quite healthy until

I thought “I could murder a fillet!”

Since time immemorial folk piscatorial

dined on ancestors of mine.

And that’s why I killed him, I gutted and grilled him.

He tasted so good with some wine!

You hook us, mistreat us, you bake, fry and eat us

but now I am coming for YOU!

I’ll sink all your ships and eat sailors with chips,

with ketchup and tartare sauce too!

So go tell your skipper my name: “Jack the Kipper!”

Go tell him I’m coming to meet him!

Eel whale and yelp, yes eel beg Cod for kelp

But no pun can help him, I’ll EAT HIM!

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Paul Hughes 2011

“Rabbit!” said Lion, “I’m finished!

my mane has grown brittle and thinner.

My once-fearsome roar is diminished

and all for the lack of a dinner!”

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Rabbit agreed: “it’s the end,

my legs have lost all of their hop!

And look at my ears, dearest friend.

They flip and they flap and they flop!

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I wish we had something to eat;

a snack as we slip to our doom,

a small final wish dish or treat.

Just something to lighten our gloom!”

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“My brother, I only have you,

and,” Lion declared, “you have me!

I have an idea – what we’ll do

is munch on each other for tea!”

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So Rabbit fetched logs and a pot.

He leapt in and seasoned the stew.

He waited until it grew hot

and said “ I believe I’m cooked through!”

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He jumped from the pot with a grin.

“We’ll eat when we’re both fully done!”

Poor Lion agreed and leapt in,

was boiled alive and fed one.

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Paul Hughes 2011

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This is based on an African tale, told to me by one of my students…

The collared dove is cooing for a mate,

for a mate.

The robin tweets so sweetly on the gate,

on the gate.

The sparrows chirp and chatter

as the sticky buds grow fatter

and I wake up with a groan at ten to eight.

TEN TO EIGHT!?

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For Spring now sings the song we love so well.

Yeah,  ”so” well…

its voice resounds through meadow, dale and dell,

Dale and dell!

Sing it any louder

I shall fetch my gun and powder

and I’ll blast you feathered, flying freaks to Hell!

GO TO HELL!

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Photo: http://mygreenroute.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/bird-at-spring.jpg

This is a true story which a good friend told me a few days ago. It happened to him, though I’ve changed the name and the sex of the child for dramatic effect. It’s about a Romanian custom which still goes on in certain parts of the country. “Tata” is Romanian for “father.” You probably shouldn’t read this if you’re under 10 and about to go to bed. Still, since children still read about werewolves, vampires, zombies and stuff like that, it’s probably not so bad.

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.——————————-

The old man lay upon his bed, his children gathered round.

He searched, with fading sight, for “Catalina?

I hear the worms, they call for me. They wait beneath the ground.

I shouldn’t like to meet them ‘til I’ve seen her.”

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“She’s home in bed, my dear Tata. Your grandchild comes tonight.

Her joy in giving life is drowned in tears.”

The old man rasped his final words, “Go tell her it’s alright!

I’ll see her and the child in seven years!”

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Ariadna, raven haired, was told of how he’d died,

of how the people whispered she’d replaced him.

She trembled as they told her with an ancient peasant pride

that she would soon go with them all to face him.

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“We take the bones at seven years and scrub them down with wine.

It helps us to be certain he’s at rest.

We hold a service, say our prayers, we kneel and make the sign.

We say our last goodbyes, the grave is blessed.”

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And so at seven years of age they took her to the grave.

The air was thick with fog and with decay.

“Go on, look,” they urged her, “Ariadna, please be brave!”

She turned to run but slipped upon the clay.

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She screamed within the clutch of death, they pulled her from the bones.

And now they laugh: “you should have seen your face!

He only wanted company, he’s down there all alone.”

She shudders still, the stench of his embrace!

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Paul Hughes 2011

Billaux Romain – Job Scare(2)

Hello all. A kind French teacher, Jenny Leger, has been using my poems to teach her students how to speak English. Here is one of her students, Romain Billaux, reading “Job Scare.” Well done Romain!

“It’s time that my heart did its duty

and told you: ‘I love you, my beauty!’

I love you in leather,

I’ll love you forever,

my grass munching, oat crunching cutie!”

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“I love you, please let me explain.

I worship each hair of your mane.

My heart gallops madly.

I’d die for you gladly.

I’m crazy about you, insane!”

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“I love you in every way!

So let’s take a roll in the hay!

Please tell me you love me!

Place no-one above me!”

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She looked at him, frowned and said “Nay!”

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Paul Hughes 2011

I had the pleasure, this week, of watching Angela Topping perform at two local secondary schools.

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Angela is well known for her collections such as “The Fiddle,” “I Sing of Bricks,” and “Dandelions for Mothers’ Day.”  She has also, however, made a big splash in the world of Children’s poetry with her recently published “The New Generation.”

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And so I had the pleasure of watching her perform a variety of these poems to children (aged 11-14) in two local secondary schools.  Her performances are interactive, entertaining, educational and full of nuggets of poetic brilliance and inspiration for the poets of tomorrow. She has a lovely way with students and they warmed to her personable manner. I intend to visit schools in the future and watching her perform was a wonderful demonstration of what can be achieved when a skilled poet, with a warm personality, meets with students.

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She is currently willing to perform for free, particularly to schools local to her Cheshire home, and I’d advise any teachers reading this to have her visit ASAP!

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You can contact her via anji.topping@homecall.co.uk or through her blog: http://angelatopping.wordpress.com