Spoons and Broomsticks

DPVP does NaPoWriMo – More from our support group…

A poem doesn’t have to be long, doesn’t have to tell a huge, convoluted story… Sometimes, a poem is simple, to the point and just… A little poem. 🙂

I Had A Little Tree

I had a little tree
It grew strong and tall
So tall, in fact, it knocked over my garden wall!
It grew so tall that I could not see
Anything that wasn’t tree.

By Debi, Lisa Ann, Marie & Alex

DPVP does NaPoWriMo – And now for something completely different…

This week we invited the members of the PF disabilities support group to help us write some poetry by each person writing a line each… We’ll let you decide how successful we were with this first one! 😉

There was once a little old witch
Whose spells could make you sneeze or itch
Her cauldron was rusty
Her spell books were dusty
Her potions she threw in a ditch

Contributed to by Jen, Alex, Jon, Marie and Annette.

DPVP does NaPoWriMo – The Dark Call Home by Thea

The Dark Call Home


I am of a hill tribe, overlooking the sea
Fierce, warlike, steadfast and wise.

I am of a warrior race, where women fought together with men
Equal in all things.

I am of an independent people, uncowed by weather
Proud of our resilience, astuteness and cunning.

Our  vistas are huge
Our  mountains high
Our  seas deep
and our dark moors are ridden by Calleach and not by the maiden.

These are harsh lands, essential to our survival
These are wild lands, haunted and hunted by freedom
But these are our lands,
scattered with kinship and niedfire.

This is home.


DPVP does NaPoWriMo – Reach Out by Krys

Reach Out

‘Reach out’ they say
Like it’s an easy thing to do
But I might as well climb a mountain
When it’s only a hill to you

Who’d want to know this ship wreck
This mess upon the floor
I have no strength for fighting
I can’t even open the door

I am the party pooper
I’m the rain on everyone’s parade
Why inflict myself on others
When I can’t play the charade

‘It’s just attention seeking nonsense’
That’s what I fear they’ll say
And so I keep it to myself
Until it goes away

Yes there’s days I’m happy
Times when I’ll join in
But now is not one of those
So I’ll hide and draw within


DPVP does NaPoWriMo – I Don’t Write Poems by Debi

I Don’t Write Poems

I don’t write poems
I find it really hard
I used to write them all the time
But not any more.

I don’t write poems
It’s too much emotion for me
I don’t want to dig deep enough
To write the poetry I used to.

I don’t write poems
I like to make them rhyme
And writing well enough to rhyme
Feels like too much braining right now.

I don’t write poems
I have no poetry in me
I used to be verbose and witty
Now my writing’s really shitty.

I don’t write poems
Hey, I managed a rhyme
This is first poem i’ve written for years
Wow, it’s crap.


DPVP does NaPoWriMo – The Phone Call by Iona

The Phone Call


She didn’t talk for long
What she said touched me
I had been there myself

The call had woken all those memories again
Memories etched deep in my soul
Carved blood red on my heart
Like tribal initiation scars.

I was overwhelmed with pain
Her pain, my pain
The pain of so many
No longer trusting
No longer strong

It hurt so much.
Enveloped in tears, I wept
Hoping to flow away into eternity
To a place,
Where pain would never find me.

I cried like a child,
Sobbing and croaking,
Trying to catch my weak breath….
Exhaustion led to deep sleep

I woke

Full of surprise
The world was still spinning
The sun still in the sky
Oblivious to the fact our
Lives had changed for ever.


DPVP does NaPoWriMo – I Know A Druid by Anna

I Know A Druid…

Oh i know a druid with a long and knobbly staff
At each and every gorsedd it always gets a laugh
It keeps the bards and ovates chortling from Imbolc to Yule
Though it could do with polishing and it needs a new ferrule.
Some say it’s made of bog oak, some say ’tis made of yew,
And passers by, they say ‘Hey bloke
Show us your didjeridoo.’
We treat it with respect, and all regard it as a friend
‘Cause when it’s stood erect
We hang the banner on the end.
At every pagan meeting, when he waves it about
People give a happy cheer, and raise a mighty shout!
The Wiccans, they all giggle, and the hedge witch starts to laugh
And calls ‘Hooray! Here comes that druid, with his knobbly staff!’


(This poem can also be sung to the tune of “My Old Man’s A Dustman”)

DPVP does NaPoWriMo – Untitled by Alex


I am the roaring waves across the ocean
and I am the gentle meander of the stream.
I am the all engulfing fire of incineration
and I am the smallest spark on a candle.
I am the tornado’s urgent, rushing wind
And the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.
I am the rumbling power of an earthquake,
Yet still I am the cave in which you shelter from the storm.
I am an enigma, uncategorised by that which I am and that I am not.
I wilfully discard the bindings of society’s labels.
I enthusiastically debunk the myths of right and wrong.
I am all that I have ever been and more that I’m yet to know.
I am growing, evolving, changing; bursting forth from the shadows.
I will be free. I will be me.
You can call me he.


DPVP does NaPoWriMo – Epic Poem by Paul

An Epic Poem for Queen Cartimandua


Settle back now and hear my tale,
Of cunning and deceit I will unveil.
Of a tribe in the North of this fair land,
Now listen to my story and you’ll understand.
Queen she was, Cartimandua was her name,
Leading the Brigantes tribe, earned her fame.
Married to Venutius, leading the biggest tribe,
Working with the Romans, we have nothing to hide.
We are proud warriors, nothing do we fear,
But why fight the Romans, they’ll soon disappear.
Our tribe will be here when the Romans have gone,
Back across the water is where they were from.
The plunder this land and tried ruling us too,
But we are not interested, for they are few.
And when we are ready, we will rise with our might,
And smash those puny Romans and put them to flight.
But why should we war when they leave us alone,
And our fair precious Queen does sit on our thrown.
For the Romans need grain and cattle to last,
We can spare both, our riches are vast.
Our Gods will protect us their power is true,
Roman Gods are weak and relatively new.
Other tribes are unhappy and looking for trouble,
They would pull down the Romans and reduce them to rubble.
Caratacus their King comes to us for help,
We bind him with chains till he doth yelp.
Off to the Romans we take him that day,
Then off to their jails, for a very long stay.
Queen Cartimandua is mighty but her husband he thinks,
That the Romans would run if we kick up a stink.
The Queen says no and Venutius backs down,
Ruling together they share a joint crown.
But Venutius is cunning and plots in the dark,
The Queen is unhappy and tells the King to hark,
“Go from me now, I divorce you with sorrow”,
“Pack your bags and go, be gone by tomorrow”.
“A new man I now have, Vellocatus his name”,
“Once your shield bearer, he now brings you shame”.
Venutius leaves then and disappears on the double,
Plotting with other tribes, he wants to make trouble.
Other tribes are angry at the Romans we know,
But we are still happy and go with the flow.
He plots and recruits tribes and warriors to his name,
And draws them all in to his deadly game.
He attacks our tribe at the dawn of first light,
But the Romans arrive to help with our fight.
We repel their attacks with our combined might,
Away the rebels go, we put them to flight.
For the Romans support us and want us to win,
Their Kingdom is shaky, their future is grim.
All across Europe other tribes grow their might,
Fighting the Romans, its not a pretty sight.
But here in the North, we repel all traitors,
We catch and we kill all Brigantia haters.
Venutius slinks off, with anger and sorrow,
But plotting revenge his soul feeling hollow.
He gathers more tribes whilst we still rule,
Does he take our Queen to be such a fool?
For the Romans will help us, they’re strong overseas.
We’ll vanquish our enemies with a terrible ease.
But the Romans are weakening this much is true,
Wars on all sides their strength is through.
Roman Emperor Nero fiddles when Rome burns,
Venutius takes his chance, he thinks it his turn.
For power he wants and the Queen she must go,
He gathers the tribes the throne to overthrow.
Attacks us brave warriors, we laugh at his name,
But this time it’s different and it’s not the same.
The Romans send help, that much is true,
But not many centurians and most of them new.
We fight and are slaughtered the tribe is no more,
Venutius has won, he’s evened the score.
But Queen Cartimandua escapes from the fight,
From history’s books she disappears from sight.
But this tale is true about our warrior Queen,
Boudicca gets the fame and the only one seen.
But look to the North for strong women as well,
And never forget this true tale I do tell.

Paul Brighouse