From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Friday, 27 June 2014


If you find you're afraid of the thunder, my dear,
then I'll be brave for you.
I'll be a bold fella, unfold my umbrella
to shield you and save you
and say to you, dear,
that there's nothing in thunder to fear.

And if I am far away from here
on the distant side of the storm,
I'll jump from the hump of a cumulus cloud
into the wind that whips at the prow
of my ship with umbrellas for sails.

I'll whirl around a tornado's eye
and skip across the thundering sky
to fly where you lie in the gales,
and faster than rain on the pattering pane,
unfurl my umbrellas, my dear,
and lift you with ease on a summery breeze
to carry you far from here,
far from your wondering,
fretful and thundering,
far from the sundering rain.