THE BOOK CLUB

Away from the traffic’s noise and pollution

I ask around for some solution.

I climb the steps – Ah! Peace from the hubbub

I’m joining my friends at the local book club.

We vary so much in outlook and history

That we mostly agree is really a mystery.

So how do we pass a companionable hour?

By the magic of words and their continuing power.

Some like the genre pacy – fact moving and racy.

A foul murder committed on every page.

Some say “slow down, enjoy every word

Savour them – treasure them – by them be stirred.

We sip at our tea, of chat there’s no lack

Some natter and natter whilst others sit back.

We convey our feelings by laughter and looks

But there’s no doubt at all we do love our books!

So after it’s over for yet four more weeks

And we leave with the warmth of it burning our cheeks –

Another tome waiting with us to be read

Will we be soothed, amused, education of fearful of bed?

Oh! long may I be able to see and to read

Tales that amuse me and fill every need.

Now from the silence and depth of my cosy armchair

I’m transported for nothing – I can go ANYWHERE!

Heather Hebborn, Spennymoor

THE WEIRD SISTERS

When the sun goes down,

And the moon’s pale white.

The weird sisters,

Come out at night.

Out they come with their

Pointy, black hats.

Sharp wispy brooms,

Evil black cats.

Chanting:

“Make people ill,”

“Make people die!”

“Make people miserable,”

“Make people lie!”

Gathering round their cauldron,

Constructing a spell.

Dropping in their ingredients,

These witches from hell.

“Eye of newt,”

“Ear of dog.”

“Fingernail shavings”

“Leg from a frog.”

Cackling so loudly,

Scratching their wart.

“We shall rule the world!”

These witch sisters thought.

So when the sun goes down,

And the moons a pale white.

The weird sisters,

Shall come out at night.

You have been warned,

You have been told.

Be weary of black cats,

And people who are old.

Heather Archer, 14, Newton Aycliffe