Witches Knickers, Page 2

  Having an endless supply of chocolate sounds fantastic.

  Finish one bar and another one appears for me to eat.

  I'd wind up fat and spotty, sick and on the loo!

   

  Time-travelling would be mind-expanding,

  Going back and forth into the past and future.

  A mini Doctor Who moving through the years.

  But that's dangerous, and I wouldn't know anyone.

   

  I must think smaller, of something really useful.

  How about being able to speak lots of languages?

  I could talk to everyone I met, which would offer

  Me no peace at all—a constant chatter-box.

   

  I'm beginning to re-think this whole idea,

  This plan to be more super than is usual.

  Looking things over with my normal eyes

  And simple mind, I see lots of problems ahead.

   

  I think that I'll remain exactly as I am right now.

  Just growing up and learning is fun enough.

  Super-heroes have lots of fights and grief.

  I'll stay me—why mess with perfection?!

  Heeby-Jeeby and Colly-Wobble

   

   

  Feeling a little nervous, are we?

  Heeby-Jeeby waved the road map

  At Colly-Wobble, who hid himself.

  Quaking behind the sofa, he nervously

  Asked where they were going, and why?

  It was much safer at home, after all.

   

  Heeby-Jeeby drew a route with shaky finger,

  Wibble-wobbling along the winding lanes.

  They were off to see their frightened friends,

  Who were too terrified to come out themselves.

  It was important to stay in touch, even when

  Trembling lots and lots and lots and lots.

   

  Jumping in their jerky jalopy, which creaked

  And dropped off parts, they clattered away.

  A headlight detached first, shining into a puddle.

  They still had one left, so crept on through

  The night, following its rather dim glow.

  It got dark so quickly, and was that an owl?

   

  It could be a ghost hooting a warning,

  But why scare ourselves more than needed?

  The ghost might not like the inky blackness

  Any more than you and me, and we've a torch.

  Which doesn't work, so hold my hand, quick!

  We're almost at Scaredy-Pants cobwebby cave.

   

  She's hiding in a dusty corner, with her pet rat

  Who is skulking in her ragged apron pocket.

  It's darker in the cave than out here in the night,

  But perhaps she's safer holding the walls,

  Feeling ratty's tiny beating heart in tune

  With the boom-boom pitter-patter of her own.

   

  Cowardy-Cowardy-Custard might be friendlier.

  She likes to go to pieces in the dusty pantry,

  Hiding behind the bread-bin, nibbling the crumbs.

  I can't see her at all, the candle has gone out.

  But I can hear her sniffling a tearful hello

  And goodbye too—I wish she'd make her mind up.

   

  A tyre's gone flat on our shabby jalopy, who's sulking

  And wants to go home to its dank stinky garage.

  We'll make it to Screaming Ab-Dabs haunted hut,

  Then turn for home, but will he hear us shouting?

  He's making quite a racket, scaring himself to death.

  Let's see him later, when he's calmer—not that he ever is.

   

  They saw Knocking-Kneecaps tent in the waving wood.

  His silhouette showed within, flickering in lantern light.

  With knees knocking so loud, it sounded like drums.

  Beeping their horn, he couldn't hear them, and off it fell.

  They headed for home, holding on tight to each other.

  It was polite to make visits, but why had they bothered?

   

  My Beard and I

   

   

  My beard and I

  Are quite well known.

  We travel here and there

  And round about.

   

  We take in the air,

  Soak up the rain.

  Keep each other warm.

  We're jolly good company.

   

  I'm a bit older

  Than my beard.

  In fact, I've had several.

  All good and true.

   

  I sold one to a trawlerman.

  He hooked it over his ears,

  To keep the sea-spray off,

  And to look mighty tough.

   

  Another went to a lumberjack

  To wear out in the cold woods.

  The beard got a wee bit frosty

  And coated in fine sawdust.

   

  One beard went very fast

  On the face of a motorcyclist.

  It billowed up at 100mph,

  And tickled him on the nose.

   

  I've grown a new beard recently.

  It's a bit grey, as I'm now so old.

  I suppose that you could dye it.

  Would you like to try it on?

   

   

  The End

   

  About The Author

   

  Paul Whybrow has a young head on old shoulders.

  Ex many things, including being a teacher, counsellor,

  librarian, dispatch-rider, milk-man, postman, bar man,

  house renovator, classic vehicle restorer, courier,

  van driver, factory worker, project manager,

  live-in carer for the elderly, editor, photographer,

  volunteer at a community centre, play-schemes,

  homeless campaigns and nature conservation projects.

  I wrote non-fiction magazine articles for ages,

  but turned to creative writing in the summer of

  2013. I've been my own boss for a long time,

  which means I'm working for an idiot and the

  pay is lousy—but the holidays are great.

  Paul Whybrow has a good heart inside a battered chest.

   

  * * *

   

  Also by Paul Whybrow

   

  Novellas

   

  * A Man Out Walking His Dog—A tale of mistaken identity.

  * Burpwallow Holler—Loyalty in post Civil War America.

  * Quarry—A gangster becomes prey in a lethal reality TV show.

  * Ghosting—How a lonely biologist finds peace with the ghosts of her life.

  * Is It Her?—A new start is offered to a grieving widower.

  * A Blue Tomorrow—Temptation and new beginnings on a farm.

  * Hearts On Tour—Small town friends support one another.

  * What Would I Do Without You?—A newly-single wife begins life again.

   

  Short Stories

   

  * The Moon Is Out Tonight—Two soul-mates separated by circumstance.

  * Due-Date—A soul in limbo is given a new job.

  * Jacqui In Space—A 20th century explorer on 22nd century Mars.

  * Over And Out—Things come to a head on a 50th wedding anniversary.

  * In The Graveyard At Dawn—A boy and his dog among the graves.

  * Soul-Swapping—Moving souls, a demon tries to get back to hell.

  Song Lyrics

  * 12 Country & Western Lyrics—hope, regret and seeing things as they are.

  * 13 Kinds of Blue—trouble's your only friend, ain't it?

  * A Dozen Pops—love in a bubble always goe
s pop.

  * A Dozen Rocks—head down boogie along the highway.

  * Box of Love—songs of love and hope.

  * Howling For You—the sadness goes on and on.

   

  Poetry

   

  * Love Stages—Love affairs seen at different phases.

  * Love Begins—The thrill of the new, the nervousness and delight.

  * Love Ends—What do you do when things go wrong?

  * Love Hopes—How would you like love to happen?

  * Love Wishes—In an ideal world your affair would be like this...

  * Nature's Ways—Aspects of the natural world, happy and sad.

  * Modern Times—What it means to live in the 21st century.

  * Old Age Navigation—Ageing stinks, but it beats the alternative.

  * Darkness—Written from the endless night of the soul.

  * Darkness Darkness—We all have our dark side—how's yours?

  * Loneliness—The poverty of the soul, when you're alone.

  * Solitariness—The richness of the soul, when you go solo.

  * Poems To Ponder—Thoughtful and amusing poems for children.

  * Witches' Knickers—Silly and nonsense poems for young readers.

  * Hold Onto Yourself—Funny and warm poems for youngsters.

  * What Do You Like?—9 Erotic Poems

  * Building Story House—10 Poems on creating stories

  * Lost Among The Words—10 Poems about Writing

  * Friends And Other Confusions—10 Poems on liking others and yourself.

  * Chasing Big 'O'—9 Erotic Poems

  * Squeeze It—10 Poems on Creativity and Setbacks

  * We Stop Ourselves—10 Poems on Creativity, Doubt and Self-Belief

  * Love Scenes—10 Poems about love

  * Free To Fly—10 poems on getting through

   

  Novels 

  Coming soon:

  * The Perfect Murderer—a novel about a serial killer, who makes no mistakes.

   

  .

   * * *

   

  Connect with the author

   

  https://paulwhybrowblog.wordpress.com