Poems

Poem

He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.
He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.
His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.

Poem

Say, Good mornin, Granny Maama
Good mornin, Grandpa Taata.
Good mornin when it rainin.
Good mornin when sun shinin.
Good mornin.

Poem

Let me do it, let me do it
Let me blow up the balloon
Let me do it, let me do it
Let me go to the moon

Poem

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?

Poem

All you see is outside me: my painted smile,
the rosy-posy shell, the fluttery eyes.
A butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth-type me

Poem

In the line you hear a chatter.
Up and down a clatter, clatter.
Noisy schoolgirls scream and shout,
pushing in and pushing out.

Red Cherry Red
Poem

I spied a small lonely boy.
I was his beautiful red balloon,
from morning through to noon,