In Ichibal by Michael Healy

In Ichibal by Michael Healy

A nonsense poem: everything has a solution   __________________________________

In Ichibal there lives a tribe,

Who sit at tables ten feet wide.

So when they come to eat their grub,

And here I must say is the rub,

They need a spoon so very long,

It will not fit around their tongue,

And so in order for them to eat

They have to use their toes and feet

And throw their dishes in the air.

Which must explain why all their hair

Always looks so neat and flat,

Covered as it is in fat!                                                  


by Michael Healy

Poo-Sticks by Michael Healy

Poo-Sticks by Michael Healy

Remember: actions have their consequences


Mary Porter sat on the Bridge

Playing poosticks with Annie Ridge

Along came little Tommy Cotton

And pinched that Mary Porter’s bottom.

Mary jumped so very high

That all the poosticks they did fly

And looking up towards the sky

They hit young Tommy in the eye.

With one great yell he did leap                                    

And lost the balance on his feet,

Fell off the bridge, and with a scream,

Went kersplash into the stream.


Help me, help me! He did cry

Annie, on her feet, said “why”?

‘I cannot swim, I will drown!

‘Oh do not be a silly clown!

Said Mary feeling very cross

‘Drowning you would be no loss!

‘O Tommy you are such a fool

I know the water’s very cool

But why not stand up on your feet

The stream is only one foot deep.

Tommy to his feet did get

Truly he was very wet.

‘Get my poosticks’ came Mary’s shout

‘Before that stream you dare climb out!

‘We want to finish off our game!

Came Annie’s comment, just the same.

‘If you don’t, it is you we throw

Back in the water and watch you flow

Under the bridge and out the side,

All six feet long and three feet wide.


The moral of this story’s clear

Dear reader if you happen near                   

That little bridge across that stream

Where people by the side do lean

Watching poo-sticks in the flow

Gently bobbing under go,

That lesson must not be forgotten,

Do not pinch them on the bottom!             

A ripple? by Magz Makiolla

A Ripple? by Magz Makiolla

The light from the landing, cast shadows along the wall, which danced eerily in the headlights of every passing car. He lay with his head gently cradled in the soft pillows, duvet pulled up to his chin, fear holding him rigid.

He cursed his decision to dawdle with his supper, had it not been for him wanting to stay up, he would not now find himself in this situation. Swallowing hard he pulled the duvet up over his head, but in doing so the bed started to rock and roll, as a ship on the high seas.

Swiftly pulling back the duvet, the motion stopped, but the shadows still played, dancing and chasing almost taunting him. Sitting up he looked over the side of the bed. Gingerly he touched his tip-toe onto the dark carpet. His big toe disappeared through its surface, swirls rippled from his toe. Another car passed its light reflected off the waters swirling surface. A shadow circled his foot from deep down in the depths. Pulling his foot back hastily, he shuddered with fear.

He peered hesitantly over the beds edge again, staring down at the unassuming blue carpet, no longer seeing the circling shadow deep in the rippling depths, but knowing that any attempt to step on that carpet and water would return, swirling and whirling, pulling him down into the waiting jaws.

The late film his mum had been watching hadn’t seemed that scary at the time and dawdling with his super had seemed like at good idea; he didn’t want to miss anything. Everyone else was still awake watching, he too had wanted to the end. After all he was nearly ten now and a film about a shark had seem cool to him. But now alone in his room, in the dark with scary pictures running through his mind about sharks circling his bed, just waiting to attack, he was wishing now that he had just given to sleep and gone to bed.

If he could get to the light switch he was sure that the monster lurking in the shadowy depths would disappear. But how could he get there safely, it was at least twelve steps to the light switch. He knew if he wanted to escape the monster he had to face his fears; he had to get up and get to that switch, putting the light on would end his torment.

Sitting up and edging the side on his bed he glanced down, he saw his blue carpet in the passing headlights. Wishing that the carpet would stay as he placed his feet down on it, but feeling the icy water encircling his feet as they came down where the carpet had been just seconds before.

He pulled his feet back sharply, panic racing through his mind; he would be struck with the monster all night if he couldn’t get to the switch.

Suddenly it was like a light bulb going off in his head, he ripped the duvet and pillows from his bed and threw them on to the floor, then pushing his fear down deep inside himself he eased on to his feet, feeling the bedding becoming soggy under his feet and fighting the urge to jump back to the safety of his bed, he pushed on water slowly starting to spill onto his feet, just a few more steps, then light would flood into the room.

It was coming; he could see its long dark shadow gliding towards him, its fin just starting to peak through the icy water, he was inches away his hand reached out for the switch, its open mouth, teeth showing was almost upon him.

Warm yellow light flooded into the room, the shadows on the walls disappeared, the pale blue carpet returned, his bedding was no longer wet. And the circling monster was no more.

The lights would stay on tonight.

Paper boats by Joe Lyon

Paper boats by Joe Lyon

Paper boats in the stream

Moving quickly chasing dreams

Closely watched by two young boys

In a race with paper toys


Shouts of joy, boats tossed around

Mine’s winning oh! What’s that it’s found?

Can’t you see it’s got caught up?

Yours is winning now through my bad luck


The finish line is just ahead

A bird swooped down from overhead

It took the boat with one cruel snatch

Victory for the boy was dashed


So much fun they had and more

Both boys decide it was a draw

With new paper boats a chance to play

after all the fun they’ve had today

Many thanks to Joe who has set the Website off on its new phase. Please submit comments to help him improve his writing.

[If you wish to submit pieces please email me]

Robin Hood (The true story of a Legend) by Gerry Fruin

[Re-listed June 2014 with the first section of three in full. Editor]

Rough draft of the start of a story in three chapters. Target readers 8 to 10 year olds. Total book words approximately 8,000

Part One

Robin Hood (The true story of the legend)

It all began a long time ago before iPods and computers. In a land of ice and frozen forests lived a people called Siberians. They hunted and fished for food and raised a very special type of horse that they sold all over a vast country called Russia.

To the south great armies were gathering and a wise old man decided that his life’s work in raising these horses would be lost if the Khans decided to take them all away. So the tribe selected the fittest and strongest young people to take their skills, and a small herd of horses, far to the West.

The journey took a long time and was very dangerous, but Sophiedropalotsky and her brother Benbowsky were as tough and strong as anyone. They crossed mighty rivers and huge mountain ranges as they travelled on. They met a group of people called Vikings who told them the best place to be was over a great sea even further to the west, called England. The Vikings agreed to take them in exchange for some of their horses, which they would use for farming and for fighting, for they were very fierce and frightened of no one.

Many months later the small group arrived at a place where they could start to make a new life on the edge of a great forest called Sherwood. It was a small hamlet called Clayton and right at the top of the hill. To the West they built a small house and workshop. The land belonged to Lord Locksley who when he heard their story gave them some land to raise their horses in exchange for some work they would do for him.

They learnt English from the local people and changed their names to Ben and Sophie because no one could say their Siberian names. Sophie, being Sophie, thought that a more English name would be better and said Marion would suit her; though to Ben she would always be Sophie.

One day Lord Locksley came to see them and was very sad as he thought that the new Sheriff would be taking his house and land to pay for his taxes. Unfortunately, his son Robert, the Earl of Locksley, was still on his way back from some far distant war called the Crusade and may not be back in time to stop the sheriff and his men. The trusting King Richard had left his brother John in charge of England and everything went bonkers.

It got worse. Lord Locksley was killed and all his land taken. That meant when the young Earl finally got back there would be nothing left for him. Soon after this a gang of thugs came and beat up the villagers. The gang leader, Sir Guy de Gisbourne  told them that the new Sheriff of Nottingham would need more money from them. Of course, they could not pay, so the thugs beat them up again and said they would be back.

What could they do? The villagers got together and decided to send their head man to speak to the Sheriff. He was thrown into jail and the villagers were told that unless they paid double taxes and a huge reward, their leader would be hanged. This was really bad, no one knew what to do.

Oh! Doom.

Oh! Despair.

Oh! Help!

Ben was worried that they would have to find somewhere else to live if these strange people kept fighting each other. For Ben it was good for his work as he was a master Bow maker and his sister Sophie/Marion the best arrow maker. Their skill had become well-known and people from all over the area came wanting the best bows and arrows for hunting. Also Lords and knights wanted the weapons for their men to fight, but Ben wondered what would happen if they killed each other off? One day, far to the south, while he was selecting the best wood for his bows Ben saw a man sitting hunched on a tree stump with his head in his hands. He seemed to be very sad as he gazed over what used to be Lord Locksley’s land.

“Hello.” called Ben. “Are you alright?” The man leapt to his feet and in a lightening quick flash whirled round, flung back his cloak and drew out his sword. “Whoa, whoa, hold on Sir.” Called Ben. “No need to get in a tiss. I only thought you might need some help.”

“Oh! Sorry.” The man said. “Just a really bad day.”

Ben shrugged and smiled. He told the man who he was and what he did. The stranger said.

“I am Robert of Locksley, Earl Locksley, but no longer. The pretender King seems to think he can take the land which has been ours forever. Now my father is dead I do not know what to do.” He looked very sad. Then he smiled a little and said. “Anyway I have never used my title so why not call me Robert.” He held out his hand and they shook hands in friendship.

Ben told Robert the sorry tale of the last few months. How small-holders of rented land had been forced off their land and farm hands and labourers had no work. Families were starving all because the dastardly Sheriff of Nottingham wanted more and more money, which they didn’t have.
“Lord Locksley told me he was waiting for you to return and sort out the problem, but…” Ben shrugged. “What can you do? This Sheriff is very bad and if you go to him he will throw you in jail.”

“Well I can’t wait until King Richard returns. So I will raise a band of men to fight for the return of everyone’s land and I will capture the thug who killed my father.” Robert announced bravely.

“That will take a lot of money.” said Ben. “But if you can find the men I will make the bows.” Robert thanked him and asked where he could find a fletcher. “Oh! Arrows and lots of them I guess. You need to talk to my sister So… er, Marion.” Ben said airily.

Robert thought this very odd indeed – a woman making arrows; he had never heard of such a thing. Anyway he was happy that his new friend had offered to help and shrugged of the thought off a woman making arrows. An arrow was an arrow, wasn’t it? Little did he realise the importance of his error.

They parted and Robert went off to find the men to fight the Sheriff of Nottingham. He soon realised that it would be difficult because many had left England to fight in the Crusade. Others had been put in jail for hunting on the King’s land. After a week he had a small group of men who had lost their homes and some, their families, but were not really fighting men. Then he came across a village by a small stream. A log crossed the water so people could keep their feet dry. At the far side stood a giant of a man. “Hello stranger.” called Robert in a friendly voice. The giant remained silent, standing with his massive arms crossed over a huge barrel of a chest. “What do you want?” rumbled the giant. “Well sir, free passage to the village where I wish to recruit men for a fight against the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

“Fight with that lot.” laughed the giant, pointing to the less than fearsome band Robert had gathered. “Go away, we have enough trouble from the villains of Nottingham without you making more. You’re not crossing here, this is what’s left of our village.” He waved a mighty arm at the burnt out shells of huts that had been the homes to the hungry crowd that had gathered behind their protector.

Robert was beginning to be annoyed. “Look, whoever you are, you are on my land and I demand the right of passage.” At this the giant laughed again, mocking the smaller man. “Really. Well my friend you will have to fight me for that right.” With that he picked up an enormous staff, which to Robert looked more like a small tree, and stepped onto the log. To the giant’s surprise a grim, Robert Earl of Locksley, turned to one of his men and asked to borrow his staff, and then he too stepped onto the log.
The fight became famous throughout the land and many a tale told of that day. The pair battled for nearly an hour; neither giving way. The giant swung mighty blows, slashing like a madman. Robert danced forward, and backwards, ducking and weaving out of reach of the bigger man, prodding his smaller stave at the big man until neither could move another inch. Both were exhausted. The villagers shouted encouragement; Robert’s men shouted louder. Finally the two combatants could move no more.

“A draw my friend?” said Robert holding out his hand.

The giant scowled then a small grin appeared behind his beard. “Aye.” he said, shaking the Earls hand. “I’ve met my equal and I’m proud to shake the hand of a fellow forester.” With that the two jumped into the water to cool off and the villagers and Robert’s band cheered and clapped for they had seen a jolly good fight.

Legend makes more of this but it was what took place when the two parties joined together in a meagre meal that changed the course of history. The men sat in what was the centre of the village while the women gathered what was left of their possessions in preparation to move to a new area away from the thugs from Nottingham.

“So my friend.” the huge man spoke in a deep rumbling voice. “First, what’s your name and second what’s this nonsense about this being your land? This is Lord Locksley’s land or it was until the swine from Nottingham killed him.”

“I am his son and heir, Robert of Locksley.” There was a gasp from the villagers and the women stopped packing and started to listen to the man dressed in rough Lincoln Green. “I have vowed to find the man who killed my father and make him pay. My plan is to gather a large group of men to stop the Sheriff stealing any more land and making people pay taxes they can’t afford.” He waved his hand at the ruined village. “Your name sir? enquired Robert.

“John Little, my Lord, and accept my apologies for my manners. Everyone thought you were still fighting in the Crusade. Your father was a kind man and I wish you luck in your quest, but we will move on before the so called knights return and kill us all off. We have no money and – as you can see – not many men of fighting quality.” Robert leapt to his feet and spoke to them all. “Then why don’t we join together and form a band. I will show you how to fight and with your forestry skills we can live in the forest until King Richard returns to take the throne back and bring justice to all England.”

The giant looked at the villagers. Shaking his head he turned back to Robert. “I’m sorry Sire but we…”

Before he could speak anymore a strong voice called out from the group of women. “John Little, don’t you dare refuse the Earl. We’ve had enough of cowering to the gang in Nottingham. It’s time to fight.

“Aye.” cried the villagers loudly.

The big man again shook his head. “I’m sorry my Lord. That’s my wife Bronwen. She and the others don’t understand…”

Again he was interrupted. “Don’t understand!” A small woman darted forward and stood in front of John Little with her arms crossed over her chest in anger. “We understand starving children, and men who are not allowed to work the woodland where we have lived for hundreds of years. Run or fight?” She turned to the villagers. “Say your piece. This used to be a free country” She shouted loudly. “Run or Fight?”

“Fight, fight, fight.” cried the villagers.

The big man tried to calm them but in the end gave in, and so the first band of Robert of Locksley’s was formed.

Robert was pleased with this and said to John Little, “We will be a merry band of fellows and I think a better name for you would be Little John, what say you?”

The big man grinned “Aye and I will call you Robin, My Lord Earl of Locksley, here’s my hand on it.

” Robert laughed loudly and shook hands. “Done.”