I’m going to be a poet when I grow up.

Mrs Glossia said you have to practise, practise, practise if you want to be really good at something so I’ve started already.

This is a poem I wrote about being the wicked stepmother in Cinderella Saturday (that’s a story in Harriet Bright in a Pickle). It’s called:

Dishwasher blues by Harriet Bright

Wash the dishes, dry the dishes, scrub those floors.

You’ve only done 3 of your 101 chores.

Don’t stand there idly, dreaming of a prince.

My hair’s all soapy and ready for a rinse.

I’d like to read your poems too.

What is your name?
How old are you?
Can you tell me your email address?
Write your poem in the box below and click on the 'Send!' button

Favourite words:

Poets have lots of favourite words. I write down all my favourite words in a notebook so I’ll never, ever be lost for words.

Mrs Glossia said that words don’t have to be big to have big meanings.

I think I know what she means.

This is my favourite word right now:

It’s a letter or parcel that isn’t delivered because the postman can’t read the address. I love getting parcels so I hope I NEVER have a nixie (I wonder if there are pixies involved somehow, somewhere …)

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