I’ve just finished knitting him and he’s now enjoying reading about all his wormy friends – Slightly Soiled, Humble Worm, Wee Willie Wormy, and lots of others in my new collection OUT NOW from Bloomsbury and called DON’T POKE A WORM TILL IT WRIGGLES.
Now, you may have already heard about my new book on this website BUT – DID YOU KNOW – you now have a chance to win one of five copies that are being given away as prizes in a poetry writing competition for children?
If you like writing poems, have something poetic to say about worms – or any minibeast you like – head over to THE POETRY ZONE for details of where to send your poem to enter the competition. And if you win – please tell me all about it!
If you can’t stand the tension of waiting and hoping, you can always buy a copy of the book from any bookshop and join Woolly Worm as he enjoys reading the poems.
Don’t Poke a Worm till it Wriggles by Celia Warren
ISBN 978 1 4729 0023 4
When I was three I wanted a pair of jeans. My older brother and sister wore jeans and they looked great. So I began pestering my mother (apparently). Now I remember neither the pestering nor the eventual purchase of my first pair of ‘jeans’, but I do remember where they came from – not a real memory; rather a learned memory from my mother’s telling the story – but they came from Woodhall Spa. And the ‘jeans’ themselves I remember only too well: and I loved them. They were green cotton dungarees, with a squirrel embroidered on the bib front and they had crossover straps at the back. They were my first pair of ‘jeans’! I also remember my sadness when I grew too big for them.
Today sees the publication of my book of poems about worms. It’s written for – well, anyone who likes worms – or to convert those who don’t – and with special appeal to those aged seven or eight or under.
So how does this exciting news link with Woodhall Spa? Yesterday I read a newspaper story about this small town in my home county of Lincolnshire, which was holding its first Worm Charming contest. This highly newsworthy event became extra newsworthy by its extraordinary result: despite contenders’ best efforts, not one single worm was charmed from the ground! So if there are any readers from Woodhall Spa: you know where you can find worms – between the covers of Don’t Poke a Worm till it Wriggles.
It’s not a day for presents or creamy chocolate eggs.
It’s not a day for fireworks or even washing pegs.
It’s not a day for candles or buns with sticky icing.
It’s not a day for party clothes or cakes with wishful slicing.
It’s not a day for racing, with sacks or egg-and-spoon,
It’s not a day for howling beneath a bright full moon.
It’s not a day for tickets to a pantomime or play.
It’s not a day for rucksacks and journeys far away.
It’s not a day for magic. It’s not a day for fasting.
It’s just a day for Being. And it should be everlasting.
poem © Celia Warren 2014
and … City Bananas
We are city bananas; know all about cars.
We’re au fait with hoteliers and tourists and bars;
Know a bus from a taxi, there’s no flies on us,
Though we do grow on trees and we don’t catch the bus.
We’re here in Madeira, come cloud or come shine,
Though we’re small and we’re green, we’ll turn yellow in time.
Our relations are mostly in countrified spaces,
But us? We’re bananas about city places.
poem © Celia Warren 2014
Hope you find – or make – sunshine wherever you are!
* * *
Time to consider the
Whens, wheres and whethers,
Examine the sometimes, consider the
Turn over new leaves for new
Father Time courteously
Opens a new door,
Urging us onwards,
Ready for more
Troubles or comforts,
Excitement or care:
Enjoy every minute and
poem © Celia Warren
Dear Father Christmas,
I haven’t got a stocking,
I’ve never had a chimney,
Nor a door for knocking.
There’s nowhere for your reindeer
To land without a roof,
In any case they’d have to swim –
Are reindeer waterproof?
Your sleigh will be no use at all,
You’ll need a submarine
Or a snorkel and some flippers
Or something in between.
But still I’ve made a Christmas wish
And hope that you will call:
I’d like a brand new pearly comb
And soft new sponge – that’s all.
I’ve left a shell of seaweed wine;
Sand-pies you mustn’t miss
To wish you Merry Christmas
Love, Mermaid. X X X
© Celia Warren 2013
*** Have you written to Father Christmas yet? ***