
Last night, the full moon
hung like a papery lamp
over my quiet road.
I savoured the chilly sky –
the moon tagging my shadow.
First published in The Unidentified Flying Omelette, ed. Andrew Fusek Peters, Hodder & Stoughton
Wheels Song
I don’t know why I’ve got feet
when I could have had wheels,
for wheels go so much faster.
Imagine me flying down our street
not in my trainers or boots
but on wheels, with my ghetto-blaster.
Imagine people turning to stare
and all telling me to slow down
before I caused a disaster.
Imagine me gliding off into space
with a quick little nod to the Moon,
then simply going straight past her. . .
Published in Through a Window, Longman, 1995
Mal Kennington Malone
Mal Kennington Malone
wasn’t good at games.
His classmates always laughed
and called him names:
dumb-chum, drophead,
you silly billy shark –
biggest flapfingers
in Bladestone Park.
I think I’ll try running –
I know I’m not bad.
I could really show ’em,
he told his Dad.
He trained and trained
around an old dirt track;
he trained every day,
ran to school and back.
He trained and trained
and ran like a hare,
even trained when it rained,
racing everywhere.
When sportsday came,
he was first off the mark,
became the fastest winner
in Bladestone Park.
We’re studying the moon –
drawing it, remembering all the moons
we’ve ever seen.
Just now, through the window,
there’s a daylight-moon looking fragile,
egg-shell soft, pale white.
I’ve no plans to go up there
whizzing through the blue,
landing on the pearly moon.
But I can’t stop thinking
about a blood-orange full moon
I saw inching up
into the summery sky.
It moved so slowly,
became a golden balloon
that never hurried.
I wanted to follow it,
catch it. But I never did.
Published in Read Me, (Macmillan, 2009, ed. Gaby Morgan)
All traffic jams jump questions.
No one can lose a dog in a hurry.
Therefore every day has a shape.
All fires have a starting-point.
There is only one sky.
Therefore clouds like to move a lot.
All squares have four corners.
Fish rarely swim in circles.
Therefore the ocean may look flat.
Katherine said: Silly Shifts is a response to randomness – good old fun.
(after Charles Causley)
I am the song that lifts the sky
I am the earth that flames the fire
I am the cloud that calls the flood
I am the stream that draws the sun
I am the tide that drinks the moon
I am the air that sings the leaf
I am the bird that stirs the branch
I am the tale that flies the word
I am the note that spreads the song
Katherine said: Charles Causley, the Cornish poet, was a wonderful children’s poet. His poem (that inspired my poem) is full of music.
Percy Possum
swings his brush-tail,
leaps from roof to roof
on a goodnight-trail.
He hunts for insects,
a midnight feast –
if he finds some eggs,
he’ll really be pleased.
The night is quiet,
the stars are dim.
He wishes they’d shine
a bit brighter for him.
Rainstorm
A single drop
plop, plop, plop
joining other drops plop, plop, plop
plopplopplopplopplopplopplopplopplop
into rivers, on to crops,
getting thicker, louder, quicker
in the cities on the streets
water coming down in sheets
raindrops dropping, never stopping
ad infinitum
plop, plop plopping
Katherine said: The inspiration came from hearing a single drop, loud and individual, and then the gradual building into a thunderstorm and more.
Nomad
A blousy tent
on a slow-go trail
A leathery balloon
swaying jungle-free
A sail-eared face
playing cascades
A house on stilts
trimming waves of air
© Katherine Gallagher
Published in A Trunkful of Elephants, ed. Judith Nicholls, Methuen Children’s Books, 1994