Forum Posts

Mark Bird
Feb 02, 2022
In 2022 Poems by Mark Bird
Urge to Blurt! (Click for the whole blog post) So do you get that urge to blurt (Your bum’s gone numb, your ankles hurt) a naughty word, a random phrase in school assembly - dazed and glazed? The more you will the words away The more they bounce and flounce and stay The more you shush your noisy head The more the words scream, “MAKE US SAID!” And then you daydream, if you did what then would happen to the kid who blurted words and silly sounds as teachers fainted on the ground The words grow braver on my tongue I hold my mouth; I must be strong They trampoline and pinch and bout They tell my mouth, “Just let us out.” I panic as the words grow worse Absurd, wild thoughts; a nonsense curse! My brain commands, “It’s time to blurt - they’re only words; how can they hurt?” But what will my headteacher do? The Nursery kids? Miss Cottoncoo? Will I then be expelled from school? Forevermore, The Foul-Mouthed Fool. Or even worse, they’ll call the cops I’LL GO TO JAIL! The panic stops … Bad thoughts retreat, rude words all flee and fade to live subconsciously I free my lips, remove my hand But what I fail to understand These words are clever; I am thick They hadn’t gone; it’s just a trick “Help me please, they’re coming out It’s not my fault,” I plead and shout. “My brain it led my thoughts astray Convinced me that today’s the day - to blurt a thing I never I should It’s bored because I’m always good.” The silence falls, the children stare The teachers gawp, the head just glares I realise, it’s not too late There’s still a chance to change my fate “Oh no there ain’t!” my brain conspires And from my mouth, the canon fires ... Mark Bird
0
0
3
Mark Bird
Feb 02, 2022
In 2021 Poems by Mark Bird
Young Spring (Click for blog post) When I was young, spring meant bounce. Beneath the blossom, I’d kitten-pounce. When I was young, spring meant jump. Past daffodils, I’d rabbit-thump. When I was young, spring meant hop. In calm, warm breezes, I’d warbler-drop When I was young, spring meant leap. Between the sun beams, I’d chooky-cheap. When I was young, spring meant fly. Beyond the rainbows, I’d bluebird-spy. When I was young, spring meant reach. At bedtime brightness, I’d owl-screech. Mark Bird
0
0
9
Mark Bird
Feb 02, 2022
In Old Poems by Mark Bird
I Didn't Dare Go (Click for the blog post) An alien lived for a short while behind my bedroom drawers. He begged I visit planets with it, fly to unknown moons with it, spy on UFOs with it. But I didn’t dare go. He kept me awake, going on about worlds I’d never seen. He chattered on all night he did, spun me tales of peace he did, funfairs on the stars he said. But I didn’t dare go. He leapt from the shadows and grumbled. His eyeball rolled then stared. He whispered that the time had come, I must get out of bed and come, Must trust in things beyond the sun. But I didn’t dare go. He sighed and then sprung to the window. Tapped his cosmic watch. He warned it's my last chance tonight, to meteor-ride through starry nights to fleet and soar on wonder flights. But I didn’t dare go. He launched himself skywards and spiraled, and stellar flaking trails fell and melted on my eyelids. I slid behind the drawers and hid, I didn’t want to be this kid. I wanted to go! But it was too late. Then, lasers light-sabered the darkness and found my crying place. Something grabbed my hand and cheered, zapped away the fear I feared, zoomed me to the future years... Where I dared do anything and go anywhere. All the time, everyday, always. Forever! ©2009 Mark Bird
I Didn't Dare Go content media
0
0
10
Mark Bird
Admin

Children's Writer | Blogger | Educator | Art Teacher

More actions