Green Glass Beads Read online

  She was a Junior County Tennis Champion.

  How could that happen?

  How could I accidentally

  Make friends with a tennis champion?

  How could a tennis champion

  Make friends with me?

  She wasn’t stupid. She read books.

  She had never been mean to me

  For being bad at games.

  I decided to forgive

  Her unfortunate past.

  Sporty people can be OK –

  Of course they can.

  Later on, I met poets

  Who played football. It’s still hard

  To get my head round that.

  Wendy Cope

  Prior Knowledge

  Prior Knowledge was a strange boy.

  He had sad green eyes.

  He always seemed to know when I was telling lies.

  We were friends for a summer.

  Prior got out his knife

  and mixed our bloods so we’d be brothers for life.

  You’ll be rich, he said, and famous;

  but I must die.

  Then brave, clever Prior began to cry.

  He knew so much.

  He knew the day before

  I’d drop a jam jar full of frogspawn on the kitchen floor.

  He knew there were wasps

  in the gardening gloves.

  He knew the name of the girl I’d grow up to love.

  The day he died

  he knew there would be

  a wind shaking conkers from the horse chestnut tree;

  and an aimless child

  singing down Prior’s street,

  with bright red sandals on her skipping feet.

  Carol Ann Duffy

  Sassenachs

  Me and my best pal (well, she was

  till a minute ago) are off to London.

  First trip on an intercity alone.

  When we got on we were the same

  kind of excited – jigging on our seats,

  staring at everyone. But then,

  I remembered I had to be sophisticated.

  So when Jenny started shouting,

  ‘Look at that, the land’s flat already,’

  when we were just outside Glasgow

  (Motherwell actually) I’d feel myself flush.

  Or even worse, ‘Sassenach country!

  Wey Hey Hey.’ The tartan tammy

  sitting proudly on top of her pony;

  the tartan scarf swinging like a tail.

  The nose pressed to the window.

  ‘England’s not so beautiful, is it?’

  And we haven’t even crossed the border!

  And the train’s jazzy beat joins her:

  Sassenachs Sassenachs here we come.

  Sassenachs Sassenachs Rum Tum Tum

  Sassenachs Sassenachs How do you do.

  Sassenachs Sassenachs WE’LL GET YOU.

  Then she loses momentum, so out come

  the egg mayonnaise sandwiches and

  the big bottle of Bru. ‘My ma’s done us proud,’

  says Jenny, digging in, munching loud.

  The whole train is an egg and I’m inside it.

  I try to remain calm; Jenny starts it again,

  Sassenachs Sassenachs Rum Tum Tum.

  Finally we get there: London, Euston;

  and the first person on the platform

  gets asked – ‘Are you a genuine Sassenach?’

  I want to die, but instead I say, ‘Jenny!’

  He replies in that English way –

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ and Jenny screams

  ‘Did you hear that Voice?’

  And we both die laughing, clutching

  our stomachs at Euston.

  Jackie Kay

  It Is a Puzzle

  My friend

  Is not my friend any more.

  She has secrets from me

  And goes about with Tracy Hackett.

  I would

  Like to get her back,

  Only do not want to say so.

  So I pretend

  To have secrets from her

  And go about with Alice Banks.

  But what bothers me is,

  Maybe she is pretending

  And would like me back,

  Only does not want to say so.

  In which case

  Maybe it bothers her

  That I am pretending.

  But if we are both pretending,

  Then really we are friends

  And do not know it.

  On the other hand,

  How can we be friends

  And have secrets from each other

  And go about with other people?

  My friend

  Is not my friend any more,

  Unless she is pretending.

  I cannot think what to do.

  It is a puzzle.

  Allan Ahlberg

  Summer Romance

  I was best friends with Sabah

  the whole long summer;

  I admired her handwriting,

  the way she smiled into

  the summer evening,

  her voice, melted butter.

  The way her chin shone

  under a buttercup.

  Everyone let Sabah

  go first in a long

  hot summer queue.

  The way she always looked

  fancy, the way

  she said ‘Fandango’,

  and plucked her banjo;

  her big purple bangle

  banged at her wrist;

  her face lit by the angle

  poise lamp in her room,

  her hair all a tangle,

  damp from the summer heat,

  Sabah’s eyes sparkled all summer.

  But when the summer was gone

  and the winter came,

  in walked Big Heather Murphy.

  Sabah turned her lovely head

  towards her. I nearly died.

  Summer holidays burn with lies.

  Jackie Kay

  I’m Nobody! Who Are You?

  I’m nobody! Who are you?

  Are you nobody, too?

  Then there’s a pair of us – don’t tell!

  They’d banish us, you know.

  How dreary to be somebody!

  How public, like a frog

  To tell your name the livelong day

  To an admiring bog!

  Emily Dickinson

  FAMILY

  Sleep, Baby, Sleep

  Sleep, baby, sleep

  Your father tends the sheep

  Your mother shakes the dreamland tree

  And from it fall sweet dreams for thee

  Sleep, baby, sleep

  Anon.

  New Baby

  My baby brother makes so much noise

  that the Rottweiler next door

  phoned up to complain.

  My baby brother makes so much noise

  that all the big green frogs

  came out the drains.

  My baby brother makes so much noise

  that the rats and the mice

  wore headphones.

  My baby brother makes so much noise

  that I can’t ask my mum a question,

  so much noise that sometimes

  I think of sitting the cat on top of him

  in his pretty little cot with all his teddies.

  But even the cat is terrified of his cries.

  So I have devised a plan. A soundproof room.

  A telephone to talk to my mum.

  A small lift to receive food and toys.

  Thing is, it will cost a fortune.

  The other thing is, the frogs have gone.

  It’s not bad now. Not that I like him or anything.

  Jackie Kay

  My Baby Brother’s Secrets

  When my baby brother

  wants to tell me a secret,

  he comes right up close.

  But inste