Message From The Stars

I could look at the stars and never tire,

Perplexed by their light, their gas burning fire. The air is crisp and the sky is clear,

When the stars above, suddenly appear. 

The night is silent and the stars they shine, as I stare curiously, from this chair of mine. They speak to me through a flicker, dots of morse code. And tell tales, of being stars of no fixed abode. "We travel through space and never stop burning, 

Until our time has come and our clock hands stop turning. We've seen many people, who have never taken the time,

To look up at us Stars and hear our words of rhyme. A life is special and of love should be full, as there are those who live lives, so dark and dull. We shine the best we can, with our humble lighting. While down there, people continue the fighting. If you all took this moment, to marvel at us stars,

there would be some peace for a moment, less death pain and scars. 

                    

   By Paul Broughall. 

I'm just me!

I may not be perfect or like all the rest.

I don't have nice hair or always look my best. 

I don't live in the city or go out every weekend.

Or have 40 friends to make me look bang on trend. 

I'm not always happy and sometimes I'm down. 

But after awhile, I discard the big frown. 

I don't have a fancy job title with degrees out of my ears. 

Or gym everyday and talk about carbs with my peers.

It can be lonely at times but I will not conform. 

Until I find someone, I have my cat to keep me warm.  

I like who I am, if I'm single, that's why.

Because if I change for somebody else, then who am I? 

By Paul Broughall.

The Little Red Bow

After Christmas the old bow goes back to the box, this little bow has had quite some knocks. It's colour faded from it's once bright red, it goes for a year to it's boxy bed. Battered and torn and falling apart. Nothing at all, like the new works of art. 

In an old ladies box of things for her tree, lay this bow waiting for twelve months to be free. Torn apart, it lay there all year, 

what if this was the end? That was the fear. The light flows in, as the woman plucks them one by one, 

from the old dusty box that once held glasses long gone. The bow was left aside as she used all the rest. She took a needle and thread and began to stitch it back to it's best. She sprinkled it with glitter and gave it a kiss. 

Then said "don't worry m'dear, not a Christmas you'll miss." So high on the tree she placed the little old bow. And as people passed by, they saw that it now had a glow. 

The Lonely Nest

A lonely nest sat, at the top of the tree. 

Thinking "why won't anyone live In me?

I was made with love and mud and sticks.

And after a storm they would mend me and fix.

I've sat here years now, slowly falling apart. 

Not looking much like the original piece of art. 

I may as well face it, I'm needed no more

Not from anyone who lived here before. 

I shall close my eyes and sleep now

My time has come to take a bow. 

But wait what is this? A bird has landed.

She is mending me and my life has suddenly expanded. 

More sticks she's gathered, and moss twine and mud.

I never thought I could again look so good. 

I'm no longer a nest lonely and old 

For a kind bird mended me with her heart of gold.

For she needed not, a nest of her own and flew off again to her chicks at home. 

A new family now, live in my breast. 

They sing all day and made me their nest."

The Chestnut Song

Every autumn below tall grand trees.

You'll hear a sound, louder than bees.

It's a song you see of little creatures,

Little chestnuts with human features.

They have arms and legs and faces too.

If you creep up quietly they won't see you. 

You'll hear them sing, of Chestnut New Year.

And throw leaves up high, far and near. 

"It's Chestnut New Year, new chestnuts are sworn. 

We'll sing and dance until the very next morn'

Some old chestnuts die, but we will not mourn.

For they go back to the earth and a new tree is born.

We'll run through the woods and have fun all the way.

No less than fun is had here each day.

We swear an oath to always wear a smile,

And a happy life lead among the leaf pile."

They'll sing their song deep in the woods

and laugh and play until the Chestnut tree buds. 

Glitter: the spider who shone.

There once was a little spider who lived in a little web in the corner of a big house she shared with a woman and her daughter Sarah. ‘Ahh spider!’ screamed Sarah when she would catch a glimpse of her. She wasn’t huge, not very small but she was quite ugly and scary. She would become quite sad at this routine every day and decided not to come out during the day anymore for her little legs grew tired of running.

One night after Sarah and her mum had gone to bed, the little spider came out to stretch her legs. Her web was very cramped and it was nice to get out and about. She climbed up the leg of the kitchen table and was walking across when she noticed her feet sticking, she pulled hard but she couldn’t move. Sarah had left a trail of glue along the table after doing her picture. She pulled and pulled until her legs came free, she rolled over the glue which didn’t stick her to the table as she was rolling much too fast and rolled right into some open containers of colourful glitter.

She opened her eyes and looked around. ‘Phew.’ She thought. She spun a web and was retreating down the table leg when she saw herself in the mirror. ‘I’m beautiful.’ She gasped. She was. She was all kinds of colours. She sparkled like diamonds as she had glitter glued all over her back. Her glittery back caught the light from the hall and lit up the kitchen with lovely light flickering on the walls and ceiling.

From her web in the corner of the house, emerged the little spider every night since she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror and loved her new look. She would come out and dance under the large lamp which would be left on in the hallway each night. The ceiling would come alive with tiny glittering lights as the glitter on her back was reflecting the light of the lamp above.

She quietly danced and hummed a tune to herself about being the most beautiful spider in the world. She was bursting with pride. ‘Spiders will see, spiders like me, will come to look and shout with glee, how beautiful she is, the spider of light and shout and hum and sing in delight.’ She sang this over and over. Oh how beautiful that song did sound.

Then one night Sarah noticed the lights, she came out of her room and saw her dance and sing. It occurred to Sarah, that this spider was now beautiful, but a beautiful spider had made her see ‘If a spider could dance and sing with glee for being covered in glitter, then a spider she was and spider she is, why should some glitter change my ability to see, that they mean no worry or harm to me just like this little spider, oh how beautiful is she.’

The Woman who lived under a bridge

There once lived an old woman under a bridge. It was an abandoned bridge in the countryside with no water running beneath. She kept two pet sheep. They would lay either side of her at night and she’d be quite cosy and warm. The old woman had become homeless many years before. She was used to it now but still longed for a house to call her own.

One day while out walking, the old woman came across a Magpie. ‘Go away, shoo shoo’ she gestured with her hands as the Magpie flew off. She continued to send him on his way by throwing stones. Magpies often stole bits and bobs she’d found out on walks. ‘You stole my gold coin.’ she shouted after him. ‘I wouldn't be poor any more if it wasn't for you thieving magpies!’ she screeched. ‘Nasty creatures.’ She mumbled.

She made her way back under the bridge and rummaged through her finds of the day. ‘Hmm an old hair pin, a tin can, a glass bottle and ooh lovely, I’d forgotten about this.’ She held up an old diamond broach with most of the diamonds gone and pinned it to her tattered old cardigan. ‘Now don’t I look pretty?' she said to her sheep as she stirred up her fire.

One night it got dark early. The old woman was out and became caught in a storm. ‘Oh dearie me.’ She said. The wind and rain was so bad that she couldn’t go on. She had to shelter beneath a tree. A startled magpie was blown from its nest. The old woman saw this and felt pity for it, so picked it up, covering the cold frightened magpie with her tattered cardigan.

She decided to walk back to the bridge in the rain. It was warmer there. Over hedges and under fences she went. She fell over rocks and got her skirt caught on barbed wire but she marched on. Her hair was wet and feet soaked but the magpie was nice and dry. 

She got back to the bridge and stirred up the fire and they sat next to it with the sheep and dried off. The rain fell hard and lightning flashed. She fed it scraps of food and they fell asleep as the storm eased off.

The next morning when the old woman awakened, the magpie had gone. The sun was shining and she came out from under the bridge. Something shiny had caught her eye. It was the gold coin she’d found that the magpie had taken, left right outside the bridge. ‘Oh my goodness!’ she shouted with joy. It must have been the same magpie she’d taken in the night before repaying her kindness. She brought it to the village and it was worth a small fortune. Enough to buy a little house and land for her sheep and to work off. She was very grateful. But so was the magpie.

Secret Boutique

Once upon a time, there was a woman named Marian. Marian lived in front of a big forest in a big house with a magnificent garden of flowers. She had a little spot at the back of the garden where she would sit and write her novels and drink tay and ate some chocolates that her chocolate taster friend Paul would send to her upon his approval. One day Marian became tired of writing and drinking tay and ating chocolate and decided to go for a walk. She wandered into the forest which was largely shared with no one. Essentially her very own forest. 'Oh t'is a lovely day for a walk and it's fabliss in here.' she'd say, stepping over a mossy log as the damp wood smell floated through the air in a light breeze. She got far enough and decided to go back. 'Himself will be back from his climbing soon.'
                As she turned to go back, she heard a noise off in the distance. 'TAP TAP TAP, BANG BANG BANG.' She decided to follow the noise and indulge her inquisitive nature. She came to a large hedge and heard the noise coming from behind it. There seemed a great commotion going on altogether. She spotted a gap in the hedge and looked through. 'Lord bless us and save us, I've never seen antin like it!' she exclaimed. There, through the hedge, was a Hoblet and a load of Hairies. Hoblets were little men with beards and long hair and they wore the fetchest bright beautiful tailored clothes. They had cross faces but nobody really knew if they were cross or not. Nobody had talked to one. Hairies, now, these were qware lookin' altogether. They were small flying men with hair all over. They too had lovely tailered clolourful clothes and that is exactly what was going on here. They were all making clothes! Very small clothes but beautiful clothes. The Hairies were flying around with shirts and trousers and folding and pressing and pinning. The Hoblet hammered away at the sole of a shoe. 'BANG BANG BANG.' Marian's mouth began to water at the sight of this shoe. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. It was a navy blue stiletto and had
 a lace bow on top. She couldn't help herself and almost by force of habit she said 'excuse me do you have that in a size...' but before she could finish, about a hundred Hairies flew out and picked here up.
                They put her down in front of the Hoblet and got back to work. The Hoblet was like the designer and the Hairies were the tailors. The Hoblet looked up at Marian for a moment before saying 'So, you want me to make you a shoe in your size? Is that right?' 'Well.' replied Marian 'Yes but I would require two, as I have two feet just like you.' The Hoblet looked at her and began to laugh. 'I don't have Hoblet or Hairy currency though.' she went on 'I do have some chocolates my friend Paul gets for me. He's my dealer.' She handed the Hoblet a chocolate from her pocket which she'd taken on the walk for fear of hunger on the way and gestured him to eat it. He took a bite and his eyes widened. His feet tapped and he jumped up and let out a yelp much to the annoyance of the Hairies whom he startled. 'I will make you anything you like anytime you like, if you can pay me with these everytime.' he said excitedly to Marian like he'd just thought of a new business venture for his boss. 'Deal.' replied Marian. He made her up her beautiful stilletos and a new pair of brown boots for the coming seasons. 'You just cannot get anything this nice in shops.' Marian thought to herself. 'She thanked the Hoblet and the Hairies and she went on her ferry merry way.
                    Every week there after, upon arrival of Paul's favourite chocolates, she'd set off to her favourite boutique in the forest. The Hoblet made her coats and bags and gloves and scarves. She was the most stylish woman. She'd sit at the spot in her garden writing and looking absolutely fabliss in her gorgeous new attire.
She found out too, that Hoblets have fashion seasons just like us and you know why Hoblet women are never seen? Because they are the Anna Wintours of Hoblets and they are off in other forest fashion capitals finding new trends. Marian even became a cover girl on one of their magazines and goes to all the fashion shows. She's high society in the Hoblet world. Her wardrobe grew and everyone wanted to know where she got the magnificent clothes. She'd simply tell them that she got them in a gorgeous boutique that's now closed down called 'Hoblet and Hairies.' She couldn't give away the BEST SECRET EVER?

The Pink Dufflecoat

She walked along, cold and longing.

Her coat forgotten, her heart belonging,

to a coat she had seen that she couldn't buy.

A pink duffle coat, she thought "why oh why?"

Then one cold day, there followed a Hare

Hearing Marian's ramblings of duffle-coats unfair. 

He gathered his friends who all went off for hours, 

They made her a coat from heather and flowers. 

On her doorstep, she heard the noise,

Opened her door and didn't believe her eyes. 

A pink duffle coat, nicer than all

Sat on her step, folded and small.

The animals hid and she shouted "thank you!"

Then they all scuttled off and stayed out of view. 

The Old Rusty Tin.

An old tin can, rusted and brown,

sat on the place, it was last left down.

Days and nights passed, seasons too.

It sat in rain and when skies were blue.

Seeing the odd cow, graze and move on, and foxes and badgers at night until dawn.

It saw children walk by, growing old

As it sat unmoved, out in the cold. 

It once fed a family, a short time spent.

Then off with a child, the little tin went.

She left it here, on an old wooden stake

and never again, a visit did she make. 

But this tin is happy, a good life it's had.

Sat on this stake, no reason to be sad.

A longer life it's lived, than any another tin.

Now isn't that much better than going in a bin? 

Ben's New House

Ben was a small door mouse.
He lived in a cosy little house.
One night while fetching wood,
a tree fell and crushed it good.
Ben's cosy house was sadly gone.
So off he set to find another one.
He found a nest among a tree
and said 'this nest is no good for me'.
So he moved on and found a hole
but living here was not his goal.
Continuing on, he came to a river,
cold and wet, he began to shiver.

Then something shiny Ben did see,
 an old copper kettle beside a tree.
A hole for the door and a lid overhead,
surrounded by flowers, he made a bed.

A spout for a chimney on this red little kettle, 

He lay down to sleep and soon did settle. 
He loved his home and was happy there
and for his old house, he didn't really care.

The Old Garden Shed

There once was a shed, abandoned and old.
Nobody cared, for it was left in the cold.
The weeds grew up and covered it slightly
No longer light, shining through brightly.
The old garden shed, once brown and strong,
was falling apart, and didn't seem to have long.
Then one windy night, off blew the door,
in crept some animals and it was useful once more.
A stronger wind blew and up came the shed.
The animals inside, were thrown from their bed.
Into the river, went the old building of wood.
The animals held on to whatever they could.
Down the river the shed floated all night.
It stayed together, putting up a fight.
Then it came to a rest on the green river bank,
among flowers and trees and the wind it did thank.

The Man In The Tree

There once was a man who lived in a tree.
He lived there for years, grumpy as could be.
People would pass him and point and talk.
He would ignore what they said, out on their walk.
There once was a woman who wouldn't stop talking.
She talked all day, even when she was walking.
Out on her walk, she came to a long path.
At the end was a tree where the grumpy man sat.
She smiled and talked and said 'Hello',
He paused for awhile, then said 'Please can you go?'
Smiling still, she asked 'What's the matter?'
He looked down and said 'I don't wish to natter.'
She said 'I could talk all day, or sit in a tree.'
'Very well' he replied 'come up and chat to me.'
'Why don't you smile grumpy man in a tree?'
'I smile from within, I'm really happy as can be.'
So they chatted away and good friends they are now.
And to the people passing by, they just smile down and bow.

MOUSE NEW YEAR!

MOUSE NEW YEAR!

On the 6th of January every year,
In the walls and cupboards you might hear, A very loud bang without explanation, It might make you jump with an exclamation. You see, this time of year is really great. It's the time some creatures celebrate. Below the floor a cork is popped clear, from a bottle of champagne for Mouse New Year! They'll sing through the night and hiccup away,bthen you wont hear a sound until the very next day!

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