Words by A Wensley

No longer a kids party This is no longer a kids party No jelly and ice cream here, No towers of fairy cakes Topped with a cherry No, fawning a smile, insincere. I made a mistake with the doughnuts They make you fat it would appear, No takers for cake No chocolate intake No, let's all just get out of here. This is no longer a kids party The pop's fallen flat oh oh dear, You can't win 'em all Have Vegan food? Ball... Yes, plant-based food here comes in spheres. I made a big spread with cool fillings Sandwiches quartered, for real! BBQ chicken wings Lots of fun tasty beige things It went down well, so-so, surreal... Because this is no longer a kids party The talk's not of fun vibes I feel, For these young adults Have their own minds, their own cults, Quit Mum, no nostalgic ideal! A Wensley 19.03.2026

Why do birds sing? Why do birds sing? What is there to sing about? If the world were to end tomorrow - What's the point in singing? You tell me birds sing for a mate Not for ethereal reasons Merely to procreate. I hate to think it's that simple. Who died and made you God anyway? A Wensley 7.03.2026 From a Mary Oliver prompt - 3 questions you'd ask of nature, Jawbone workshop, Othona Recording of birds from that day:  Birdsong at Othona

Ode to a daffodil Your slender stalks march  silently              into                    Spring All trumpets blazing! Declaring brighter days ahead Like a jazz break Punctuating a misty blues LP. You are as yellow as the yolk, Rising like the sun, On my morning toast - And just as nourishing. A Wensley 7.03.26 Othona, Burton Bradstock

The Lyricals** of Lady’s Combe  A dramatisation of recollections of Ralph Hoyte's tale to us poets of when he was visited by the lady of the well, in Lady Combe, near Dowsborough on the Quantocks; the reason for us all being in this room now, here together at Words in Watchet as The Quantock Poets. Written in the poetic style of 'Christabel Released' - in tribute to Ralph for his support on our group's poetic journey. Voice 1 (Angela, narrator and Voice 3 - the Lady) Here we find the poet walking Retracing steps his fellows talking Descending through these green surrounds Whortleberries, blush-blue the grounds. ‘tween sessile oaks the snakes do writhe Bearing witness sleek and lithe His mind it wanders as mists hang low Dewy, wet, scene set? We go… Further, deeper to the well Hark what’s that? Ssh time will tell… Voice 2 (Ralph) Here I find the lady whispering Mists do hide her sultry glistening A slant of light through trickling glade Finds my face awash with shade (3)...

Grow, Growing, Grown Your small hand in mine I walked you to school daily, gaily, Bright red cardigan, grey pinafore Shiny black shoes and white socks. Your time to grow. In a navy blazer paired with a grey pleated skirt (Max 10cm above the knee), I sent you off to secondary House tie, blue blouse and grey socks Growing, growing, gone. You get to wear a short skirt now With a denim jacket  and any top you fancy. Your hands are still small But they're holding someone else's. A Wensley 26.02.2026

Leader I'm wondering who made you Leader, You who had the patriarchal balls to say "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" When a woman asked for justice, for the sexually abused. I'm wondering who made you Leader, You who had the ice-cold dominance to call a Mother A "domestic terrorist", "no angel", When a woman loved thy neighbour, to death. I'm wondering who made you Leader, You who had the conclusive transparency to say It was your staff who were at fault,  When a woman, and her husband, were racially abused. I wonder who'll make you Leader, I wonder who'll make you Leader. A Wensley 8.02.2026