Poem © Lesley Moss.
falls, then another, and and off I go...
I slip, I stutter, I flutter my wings.
The world is full of freezing things.
I slide - I glide - I spin on my toes,
I lift my wings and strike a pose.
In the stillness, silence grows.
Halloween robes, boots, and britches!
We'll sew spells so smart
from our Which Costume Book:
just pin, pick and mix
to conjure your look.
Summons me and I must go
Out for a ride on her broomstick,
Into the darkness and snow.
Ever. It’s against the rules -
I disbelieved you, disrespected you,
now it seems I was the fool.
I didn’t understand, I didn’t know,
so I crunched on skulls and bones.
Mortal morsels were so tasty, I didn’t want to misplace any, waste any.
Now I want to go back home but I’m stuck here all alone
in a maze of ice and stone.
The sea slapped waves against the rock he’d sat upon so long,
The moon made trails of silver that led to the lighthouse stair
As the Watcher sat and waited,
Waited – watched and waited –
The Watcher sat and waited, though nobody else was there.
of moons and oceans far away, and every word was true.
She told of flying dragons, wild beasts of earth and air,
celestial snouts a-smouldering, sparks leaping everywhere!
And we forgot the concrete walls, the heavy painted doors,
no longer saw the classroom with its scuffed unpolished floors.
We unrolled ancient maps, scrolls of the stars and seas,
charted astral cities where wild dragons surf the breeze.
Miss Mistry had a secret. I'm the only one who saw
that time she shed green dragon scales along the corridor.
She stared out of the window, and up into the sky,
a longing look upon her face. Flames flickered in her eye.
I watched and waited every week for just a tiny trace
of green reptilian cunning to appear upon her face.
I thought she might just scratch her head with sharply curving claw,
or throw Year Six's hamsters in her long and toothy jaw ...
And then one day it happened - I caught her breathing fire!
I watched her spread her golden wings - higher, higher, higher!
Miss Mistry had a secret. I'm the only one who knew -
she wasn't just a teacher - she was a dragon too!
She ran out of the door and with a roar, leapt for the sky -
Miss Mistry's never coming back. I know. I saw her fly.
© Lesley Moss 2015
Sucks to be at our school!
The teachers are batty,
Count D is the Head.
He never gets old:
he's truly Undead.
The uniform's black,
our fangs glossy white,
our eyes shine blood-red,
we shrink from the light.
Our school starts at sundown,
your day is our night.
We play in the moonshine -
but careful! We bite!
Count Dracula's cool, yeah,
He's not very strict.
He's saved you a place
in your very own crypt!
The Transylvanian Academy
P.P.S. Don't bring garlic or stake.
© 2014 Lesley Moss
Parker MacBarker, Private Eye
And his sidekick, Smithson Yap,
Went out on a case one dark, dark night,
Trailing a bony old chap.
Creaky jaw and a rattling walk:
Bones was quite easy to track.
I know best, growled MacBarker, I'll lead.
Yap, you just stay at the back.
With spy camera ready to shoot,
Smithson Yap, in cool tartan cap,
Tiptoed behind, as soft as can be,
Tail wagging, all ready to snap.
Bones led them a merry old dance,
To a scrap yard where large dumpsters loomed:
MacBarker went in with a snarl and a grin -
Stop! barked Yap, lest ye be doomed!
But MacBarker ALWAYS knew best:
That was indisputable fact.
Smithson Yap just adjusted his cap,
And stayed back so he wouldn’t be sacked.
A skeleton leapt from a bin:
Twas Bones! – and frightened to death,
MacBarker fell senseless and limp
As he drew his last gasping breath.
So stepped to the fore Smithson Yap,
His tartan cap still on his head.
Old Bones held no terror for him!
He crunched 'em with biscuits and bread!
As he gnawed on Bones’s old bones,
The moral, said Smithson, is plain,
Knowing Best leads to false calculations
And MacBarker will not sleuth again.
Poem © Lesley Moss
Image © Heather Dickinson
The postman knocks twice.
Don’t answer that door!
This postman ain’t nice.
Prue stands transfixed
in the hallway,
her back to
the locked kitchen door.
The letterbox rattles,
and through it appears
Not a letter or parcel or packet,
A slavering jaw!
Teeth gripping ...
An odour most foul!
Prudence, be wary!
The wolfman knocks once,
The wolfman knocks twice.
Don’t go through that door,
Wolfie - Prue don't play nice ...
Words: © Lesley Moss
Illustration: © Sam Zuppardi
It's Myrtle, your favourite client.
Our pumpkin coach has been overturned
by a road-raging lump of a giant!
We HAVE to get to the Glass Slipper Ball -
Prince Charming's returned from his quest!
And it's awfully cold in the Haunted Wood,
Poor Berta's not wearing a vest ...
WHAT! Call yourselves Fairytale Rescue?!
I can hardly believe my own ears!
"Halloween is your busiest time,
you're tied up for the next hundred years?"
Hello? HELLLLOOOOO?! Fairytale ResCUE?
They hung up on me, Berta!
What on earth shall we DO?
Just call a Troll, Mistress Myrtle,
I really think that you should
flag down a troll, Mistress Myrtle,
to carry us safe through the wood!
And WHAT IF the Troll's bad and hungry?
WHAT IF the Troll's mad and mean?
WHAT IF the Troll hurls us over the bridge,
'Cause we don't have Jack's Magic Bean?
Oh, just trip-trap over there, Myrtle,
and ask the nice Troll for a favour.
I will not trip-trap over there, Berta.
He might take his lunch Myrtle-flavour!
Wait - maybe those three Goats can help us -
they look so incredibly buff ...
Oh yes! See! They're crossing the Troll Bridge -
Hooray! It's the Billy Goats Gruff!
Words © 2014 Lesley Moss
Illustration © 2014 Loretta Schauer
They call it Dark, and in Dark Street
there is one house, a scary house,
and I have been inside it.
And upstairs there's a gloomy room,
a room of everlasting doom
and there's a cupboard in that room,
and I have stood beside it:
so sinister, so full of mean -
(Shh, they may hear us whispering)
- green monstrous creatures, cupboard trolls,
and I have peeped inside it.
And there the mouldy cupboard folks
dwell inbetween the hats and cloaks.
The monsters wait behind the door
and I have stepped inside it ...
The monsters made me Monster Queen
though I am clean and they are green,
Now in the cupboard I reside
and we all hide inside it.
In Nightmare Town there is a street
they call it Dark, and in Dark Street
there is one house, a scary house -
why don't YOU step inside it ...?
Poem © 2014 Lesley Moss
Illustration © 2014 Sally Kindberg
she made a humongous mistake.
For instead of a black shiny smart London cab,
a tiger turned up at our gate.
Mum was too busy to notice
that the taxi was covered in stripes.
When we climbed on board, it raced and it roared
down the road with the buses and bikes.
When the tiger turned right at the station,
the town clock was just striking noon.
The tiger's tail flicked as the meter tick-ticked
then it vroom-vroomed right over The Moon.
The road seemed to vanish beneath us,
the scenery turned to a blur.
The fare kept on rising, which wasn’t surprising
for a taxi all covered in fur.
We screeched to a halt in The Jungle,
there were parrots and monkeys and all.
'Drive back up to town,' Mum snapped with a frown,
'This is a WILD shopping mall.'
The tiger did NOT take this kindly.
‘That will cost you an arm and a leg!’
So we made no more fuss but just flagged down a bus,
and chugged home on four wheels instead.
Words © Lesley Moss 2014
Illustration © Amanda Hall
some frogs don't.
Some frogs climb,
some frogs won't.
Some frogs swim,
some say shan't.
Some frogs fly,
some say can't.
Some frogs hop,
that's their thing.
Some frogs croak
instead of sing.
Do frogs dance?
Some frogs don't.
Some frogs could,
most frogs won't.
But I love to dance in the light of the moon,
on my green lilypad to a radio tune,
and I don't care what some frogs say -
I dance all night, and I sing all day!
Poem: © Lesley Moss
Illustration: © Paul Morton
I’m stuck in the North Wind’s left nostril.
When the wind blows,
It sneezes me out of its nose
Into its papery breezes
And I flitter about with the leaves and the litter.
Upside down and downside up,
Just another pile of snotty rubbish
Blown from the North Wind’s nose.
© 2013 Lesley Moss
© 2013 Amanda Lillywhite
whose name was Euphonia Brisket.
Her face was as sour as the milk she devoured
every night, with blue cheese and a biscuit.
One thing you should know about Brisket:
she was awfully careless with magic.
Incorrect incantations she spluttered and spat
as her spell hit a Rat, which was tragic.
A request had come in by mail order,
for a love spell hand-made by E. Brisket.
Poor Ratty just happened to get in the way,
as Euphonia stirred it and whisked it.
The Rat was so suddenly love-struck,
there were stars in his eyes as he fell.
"What shall I do to woo you, my love true?"
he said, twirling his whiskers, "do tell!"
At this, the Mean Fairy went red in the face,
and chased the Rat out of the room.
"That Rat loves a Fairy! 'Ow dare 'ee!" she yelled,
as she swept him aside with her broom.
"Fairy Brisket, please listen, please do,
to the plight of a Rat who's in love.
for I've never felt this way ever before,
and my heart is all yours, my dear dove!"
"Ever looked in a mirror?" sneered Brisket.
"Tail twitchy, fur matted, teeth green -
face the facts, my dear chap, you're a verminous Rat,
beside ME you're not fit to be seen!"
Now Brisket herself was no picture,
as the looking glass clearly revealed,
but her spell made the Rat see a glamorous beauty,
as dizzily round her he reeled.
Alas for poor Ratty! His love unrequited,
his end was most gruesome, I'm certain.
For as Brisket's patience snapped, so did the rat trap,
and then, for the Rat, it was curtains.
Poem © Lesley Moss 2013
Illustration © Bridget Strevens-Marzo 2013
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Poets and tags
Bridget Strevens Marzo
Julie Anna Douglas
Katherine Lynas (ill)
Katherine Lynas (poet)
Tag Fairy Tales
Tag The Weather
Tag Witches Wizards