THE YEAR OF THE MALE METAL RAT

Not only the Year of the Rat – not that!

It’s the Year of the Male Metal Rat.

Rats like hard work and their focus aims out

They prefer to be active, they don’t like to doubt.

They’re powerful and strong like the blade of a knife

They have rigid opinions on money and life.

Boy Rats are clever and quick to adapt

Girl Rats are homely, in family they’re rapt

Their houses are tidy, all things in their place

They care for their families with prudence and grace

Boy Rats are creative and keen to advance

They have good ideas but don’t seize the chance.

Rat is the first of zodiacal years

*He tricked the Ox and jumped over his ears!

They’re liked by most and they’re usually kind

They’re technical thinkers, by study refined.

Rat may design buildings, his detail is fine

Engineering is also a likely Rat line.

They’re gifted with brains but say things that may hurt

Rats tell you the truth but sometimes sound curt.

As workers in teams they’re not at their best

Creating’s their thing – with ideas they’re blest.

They’re said to bring wealth in gen’rous profusion

All Rats make good friends – that’s my conclusion.

*according to myth the Jade Emperor decided to allocate the zodiacal years by the order in which the invited animals arrived at his party. Rat tricked Ox into giving him a ride and when they reached the finishing line Rat jumped over his ears and claimed first place.

THE YEAR OF THE PIG  2019

I’m a Pig! I’m a Pig! I am patient and kind

I’m not the smartest but I don’t mind.

I’m trustworthy, indulgent, with a big sense of humour

If they say I’m lazy, it’s only a rumour.

Pigs born at morning are moody but reckless

They leap before looking, sometimes they’re feckless.

Pigs born in the noon, now they fight with heart

As long as they’re helped a bit at the start.

Pigs born at night, they’re full of fight

They alone know how to do everything right.

But these traits can be varied according to age

They’re only true at a certain stage.

Boy Pigs for instance are low-key and trusting

Easily fooled, they may just take a dusting.

Girl pigs are gentle and mostly seek peace

They’re given to kindness and not to caprice.

Luck and good fortune may bless the Pig

With honest sincerity showing up big

Understanding and giving, never spiteful or mean

The Pig is a really fine Human Bein’!

Spirit of the Wolf

The child sat still at the Wise Man’s side, her hand upon her chin

‘What is it that disturbs you, child?  What struggles are within?’

The child, wide-eyed, sized up the Man and whispered ‘What’s your name?

The Wise Man answered with a smile ‘I am who I became’.

‘What do you mean?’ the child replied ‘you arewho you became?

Aren’t you the same as yesterday – or is this just a game?’

‘It’s Life, my child, and that’s no game – it can be good or bad

You live it happy if you’re kind – or you can live it sad.

‘We each are one, but also three, there’s Dark and Light and Me

I am the Heart who works with love and the thief who cheats it free.

I am the Spirit of the Wolf – a prowler of the Night

By day the body still is Wolf – and yet the Soul is bright.

‘They’re part of every choice you make, to hinder or to help;

They wind you up, they let you down, they whimper or they yelp;

They’re always fighting for your Will, they both set out to win;

But one day You will win the match and welcome both within.

‘One Wolf is dark and angry, he snaps and he is mean

He sees the worst in everyone and often vents his spleen.

He’s selfish and he’s envious, he sneers at weakness too,

When he is loosed your friends will ask Is this really you?

‘One Wolf is soft and caring, his every act is kind;

He loves the world and all therein – with balm his soul is lined.

His days are filled with joy and love and tender-hearted care

He’s careful to live in peace, with everyone he’ll share.’

The child was quiet and then she asked ‘Do I have Wolves in me?

If there’s a place where they’ll be friends – will you give me the key?

I’m sometimes very angry, I stamp my foot and scream

And other times I feel so good, it’s like my life’s a dream.

‘I don’t know why I have these moods, they make me feel so funny

I don’t like grizzly grumpy days – I’d like to make them sunny.

How can I have my Wolves be friends? How can I make them happy?

I’d like them to help me be myself, the self who’s never snappy.’

‘That’s good my child because, you know, it’s all to do with diet

The Light Wolf solves your problems by thinking in the quiet,

He turns your actions into food that never causes pains

He helps with resolutions so all can count the gains.

‘The Dark Wolf fights against success, he hates to live in peace,

His job is to confuse you, so your anger will increase;

He feeds on your frustrations, your pain is his dessert,

He’s never ever hungry when a friend he makes you hurt.

‘Dark Wolf is ever prowling though the mazes of your mind,

When he’s in charge your kindest act is always undermined.

He feeds on negativity and loves to see you fail

When you feel strong, he cackles, convincing you you’re frail.

‘No stronger than the Light Wolf, but he can strike you dumb

He strokes your ego daily making out that he’s your chum;

He doesn’t want to help you, he’s looking for the nerve

That captures soul and psyche so he alone you’ll serve.

‘So, Child, I cannot tell you more, for each of us must choose

To find our ways in Light or Dark – our acts our souls infuse.

Our Wolves both hunger for success, and each does fight with zest

It’s up to you to choose the Wolf whose diet fits you best.

‘We change each day through what we do, what acts of love we offer

We live our lives within this love that we do freely proffer.

Each day we change, we snuff the spark – or fire we do reclaim

Tis thus I know for certain that I am who I became.’

She looked at him as still she sat, her hand upon her chin,

She looked as though she wrangled with two Wolves who fought within.

‘Which Wolf will win this fight?’ she asked ‘Which Wolf will now succeed?’

‘The Wolf who eats the most’ he said ‘the Wolf that sates his greed.’

‘And if I starve him of his food, if no lie I ever tell..

Will he starve and shrink and shrivel up, consign himself to hell?’

‘He will do that’ the Wise Man said ‘and you’ll have done your duty

To make a world of gentle Wolves who love you for your beauty.’

THE POLAR BEARS’ SECRET

Dear Jame-y you defame me

I’m not white at all.

This is a subject of confusion –

I’m just an optical illusion!

The colour white is made of light

All the colours blended bright.

But me – I’m a Polar Bear

Not one colour do I wear!

Except my skin – my skin is black!

But please don’t feel you’re taken aback.

What trick is it that shows me white?

A strange reaction of the light?

This strange reaction’s not refraction

But something closer to attraction.

I have two kinds of hair – one long and strong:

Tapered and hollow, if I’m not wrong.

It’s filled with air and called the ‘guard’

(Understanding this is really hard).

It’s made of stuff just like our nails

Not unlike a fish’s scales.

When sunrays hit my hollow hair

They bounce around while they’re in there,

They create a kind of incandescence

Something like a ‘transparescence’

In Polar Bear’s it’s the quintessence

Of what is called our luminescence.

So – every time my hair sees light

It makes my coat look really white!

PS​ The other kind of hair I wear

​ is short and thick my warmth to snare.

Jan Darling

My favourite plate when I was a child had a picture of a rabbit wearing a red jacket at the front of a group of little rabbits, with the last line of this poemprinted on it.           Jan Darling

‘Mummy Rabbit, Mummy Rabbit

Where did you put my Easter habit?’

‘Which one?’ she said (she was making his bed)

‘I have to wear the one that is red!’

‘Why red, my kitten, you’ve a yellow one, too;

And last year you wore the one that is blue.’

‘I promised the others back there in the shed

That I would be wearing the one that is red.’

‘Bunny, my kitten, where is it written

That you must wear a coat that matches your mitten?’

Bunny tried to explain that the man from the train

Had said that red jackets were the best in the rain.

‘I can’t wear the yellow, my eggs aren’t marshmallow

And I don’t like the eggs that are filled up with jello.

It says on the packet I must wear a jacket

That matches my mittens – or there’ll be a racket!’

‘Please, Mummy Rabbit, could you find my habit

We have to rehearse with the new Jackrabbit.

I have the crème eggs, the ones that you like

I’ll bring you one home when I find my bike.’

‘Oh dear little Bunny I’d love a crème egg –

I’ll look for your jacket, you don’t have to beg.’

So Bunny hopped off to the hall at the church

Happy not to be leaving his friends in the lurch.

‘Bunny’ they cried as our hero was spied

‘If you don’t wear the red, it will damage our pride.’

‘Mummy Rabbit is searching from the roof to the ground

She won’t stop her looking until it is found.’

‘Thank goodness’ they sighed, ‘cos we can’t change the verse

Now Bunny is here, let’s start to rehearse.

Easter eggs will be shared and happiness spread

And it’s Bunny who led in his coat of bright red.’

IS IT A ZED OR A ZEE?

You say Potarto, I say potayto

You say tomarto and ! say tomayto

Some say Zed and some say Zee

It makes no difference, not to me.

I dreamt I went to the Zoo last night

At the end of the alphabet – I had a real fright.

Dreaming, I found the A’s B’s and C’s

and continued on past the M, N, O, P’s

I followed the way to things starting with Zed

Then all those letters just went to my head

(I had plenty of time – dream visits are free)

A stripey horse whinnied and said – I’m a Zee.

We’re the cleverest animals in all the Zoo

Let me explain to you clearly just who is who.

This is family stuff, so you must pay attention

 Zedzees can appear in any dimension

We’re a family that’s full of multiple guises

If you remember them all – there might be prizes.

My dad is a Zebra, my mother’s a Horse

That’s how I was given my name – I’m a Zorse.

That makes me special, in the Zoo I’m a feature

I’m considered to be an amazing creature.

I’m built like a Horse but I wear a striped suit

My buddies here think that I’m really cute.

If the tables were turned and a Zebra my mum

My dad would be Horse – he’d still be our chum

You might think this idea is utterly mad

The first part of my name would reflect the dad

So welcome the Horbra into our poem

And still we Zedzees have much more to show’em.

The Horbra has stripes – you don’t know where they’ll be

Could be the neck, on the back or the knee.

His patches are stripey on a background plain

So many patterns, it’s really insane.

Each Horbra is diff’rent, unique to behold

Known for his strength and inclined to be bold.

Now – back to the Zorse, you remember of course

That he’s the offspring of Zebra and Horse

He has other names, too, and I’ll tell you a few

Zebrula, Zebrule, Zebra Mule – will that do?

The Horbra by more names can also be met

Such as Hebra, Zebrinny and even Zebret.

Have you thought of the mating of Zebra with Pony?

You’ll not be surprised, their offspring’s a Zony!

Now, if you’re not feeling dizzy, woozy or wonky

We’ll talk of the offspring of Zebra and Donkey:

Called Zebadonk, Zebrass, Zebrinny, Zebrilla

Zebonkey,  Zebonk and Zonkey – the killer!

Altogether these beauties are known as Zebroid

With so many names they must always feel buoyed

Starting as donkeys, asses and zebras and horses

These all are examples of natural forces.

When you go the Zoo, start at alphabet’s ending

And you’ll see how glorious is Nature’s blending.