My friend the gnome
Is made of stone
So he’s always home.
He doesn’t sing
Or anything
Or complain
About the rain
Or the pain
Of being stone
My friend the gnome.
* * * * *
My Bear
My bear doesn’t care
Just as long as I’m there.
I can sing him a song
And get it all wrong,
He doesn’t tease,
He’s easy to please
And when the world’s unfair
He’s always there,
My bear.
* * * * *
This poem retells one
of two Mongolian legends
about the origins of the horse-head
fiddle.
The Ballad Of Zhonon Khar
The Horse Who Had Wings
A horse is a wonderful thing
And peerless the horse who had wings.
This is the song the Mongolian sings
As he plays on the fiddle of the horse who had wings.
Our prince had a horse so grand,
He tirelessly flew the length of the land
But a burglar broke in
And cut off its wings.
The horse in agony died.
Our prince made the horse-head fiddle
Which he played with a horse-hair bow
And at night when his tears matched the stars in the sky
We could hear the lament of our prince as he cried
For the loss of his friend who could fly.
A horse is a wonderful thing
And peerless the horse who had wings.
* * * * *
A Bear On A Chair
After A Painting by Karen Armstrong
Do you really think I care
If Megan pulled your hair?
You leave me
Stuck on this chair
Or out in the rain.
You don’t care about me,
Just your pain.
Little Tristan loves his Mimi.
News to me, Mfanwy.
Poems 1-3 were published in The School Magazine. 'A
Bear on a Chair' was in The Other Side.
