TWO beautiful collections of poetry containing poems by Dom Conlon are now available to buy. Watcher of the Skies from The Emma Press is the perfect volume of poetry to give as a gift or use in the classroom to launch children’s imaginations. One Giant Read says: ‘This is a book which truly has something…

Hey! Pal! Yeah, you. Up here. Not there. Here. That’s right. I’m supposed to stay quiet and just keep an eye out for things but you look lost, pal. You really do and me and my buddies, well we don’t like seeing no lost things around here. ‘Specially at this time o night. Should ya…

Of all the amazing things that have been said about Astro Poetica, this letter from my one-time (I’d better not say “old”) English tutor has to be my favourite. I’ve been inspired by many things in my life and he is absolutely up there with the best. I sent him a copy of the book…

The Bear’s Tale ‘ello. You’re not lost, are you? You can’t be looking for us… unless… Terry! Terry! Get down here. Did you order a child? No? Oh, well then. That can mean only one thing. Not many children wander into a bear’s cave on their own. Not many of your sort are brave enough.…

Robert wasn’t sure he should do it. Lesley Grooves said he probably couldn’t. Felix Didler said he probably shouldn’t. James B Consonant said he probably wouldn’t. Robert said nothing. He tapped his foot, twitched his nose and stared at the floor for a long, long time. He probably could, but as to the should and as for…

A rolling stone can gather no moss But that’s simply not true for the Stones of Moss Koss. Each one moves around like a pea on a plate Like a wandering minstrel, late for a date. It rolls like an eye in a hurricane’s grip Like a soft juicy orange squeezed for its pip. The…

Go to sleep, little Wolf, the chickens can wait. They’ll be there in the morning as nice juicy bait. Go to sleep, little Wolf, the pigs can all snort, Leave them safe in their houses, they’re easily caught. Go to sleep, little Wolf, let Riding Hood rest, She’ll taste so much better if she’s at…

He plays his ukulele As a habit almost daily, Makes a show of every note And knows them all by rote. Then at the end For you my friend He’ll hold up both his paws. And with a hum And with a strum He’ll play for two encores. — [sc name=”Coffee”] Illustration (and inspiration) courtesy…

This is the first draft of an idea I’ve been chasing around the garden. It’s not yet in a form suitable for a picture book, but it is a fun read. Strike back with comments and let me know your reaction. — Cynthia Sloan was all alone because Cynthia Sloan liked cats. More than that,…

It wasn’t a frog Stuck in his throat – more like a mountain goat. He opened his mouth To say something sweet But all that came out was a bleat. — [sc name=”Coffee”]