Poetry
Kate's poems are written to be performed rather than read and often people comment that the performing of them brings a very different perspective. But at the end of the day, a poem's a poem, and you can enjoy it any way you choose…so here are a few to give you a taster.
Kate tends to write from a very personal perspective (think feminist, labour voting, atheist, mother of three) but is never angst-ridden and often has her tongue firmly wedged in her cheek...
Poems
- London.
- A Poem Every Day.
- Street Drinker.
- I Went Clothes Shopping.
- Turning Forty.
- Thank You.
- Washing for Girls.
- Super Biscuit.
- The Sump Hunt.
- Sunday Morning TV.
- Why Can't Men Hang Out Washing?.
- What are we Protecting our Children from?.
- Invisible Woman.
- The Oldest One.
- Fridge Art.
- Mr Charisma.
- Our Bed.
Poems for Children
- Busy Body
- Lollipop Man
- A Goldfish's Vote of Thanks
- A Hamster's Lament
- Giraffe
- Hippo
- Rhino
- Jaguar
- Lion
- Tiger
- Spooky Story
- We Love Our Family
London 
I lived in London for fifteen years
And then I left it
For the quiet coastal life
Home-making, children
Wife
And now when I leave
My rural idyll and go to London
My senses thrill
And I find I love it still
I am re-awakened
Snapped out of a domestic dream
My heart quickens
The pace changes
Lon-don, Lon-don, Lon-don
Speed - People - Buildings hemming me in
And the din of the traffic
I feel young - And reckless - And wild
Like a child on a cliff-top on a windy day
It carries me away with it
And I believe I am part of it still
Still a Londoner - not a tourist
I know which buses go where
Their numbers indelibly stamped
I know the tube lines
I walk the streets with confidence
Keeping step with the city's pulse
I have taken myself out of London
But London has not left me
© Kate Tym
A Poem Every Day
I have set myself the goal
Of one poem every day
If I only live for another week
That's seven poems
That doesn't seem too hard
Let's hope I get hit by a bus
© Kate Tym
Street Drinker
Street drinker
The new way to say piss-head
Drunk
Alchy
I passed him on the promenade
10am and he clutched a quarter bottle of vodka
It was really very cold
And when he put the bottle down he misjudged and it tipped over
I watched horrified
He grabbed it back up in panic
And put it to his lips
Drained it, every last bit
Then he looked at the puddle of alcohol
Pooling on the top of the wall
And dripping over the side
Our eyes met
Both sharing the same thought
Drink it ... or not?
My pace had slowed
As my brain processed the scene
Was he going to slurp it up
Gritty off the freezing wall?
He didn't
Enough pride left
I walked on
Five paces later I turned
Stealing my heart
And girding my eyes
He was someone's son
And the tragedy of life unfurled
As he bent to claim his prize
© Kate Tym 2010
I Went Clothes Shopping
I went clothes shopping
With a shopper's eye and a poet's ear
I bought two items
A dress of suedette
A jumper of chenille
I didn't like the way they looked
I didn't like the feel
But they sounded great
© Kate Tym
Turning Forty
I've just turned forty
Still naughty at forty that's what all the cards say
But I wasn't really naughty before
So does it really count?
And do I now have to start getting nifty
In readiness for fifty?
© Kate Tym
Thank You
Thank you for the support you didn't give me
Thank you for the struggle
The mud of confusion I had to wade through every day
Thank you for the mixed messages
And manipulation
The forced capitulation of exhaustion
Thank you for stealing my money
And talking to me in a voice of honey and razor blades
Thank you for the aggression
The impression of sanity
The reality of lunacy
Thank you for abusing my vulnerability
Thank you for the pain
Thank you for the slander
The barbed comments
The subtle undermining
Thank you for not leaving when asked
Thank you for always coming back
Like a bad penny
Or a fetid stench
Thank you for taking my love and turning
It into something pathetic
Thank you for lying
And not even trying to change
Thank you for drinking
Like you dreamed of death
Thank you for forcing the last breath
Out of me
Thank you for finally allowing me to see
What was right in front of my face
I don't thank you for finally leaving
That was down to me
I made you go
And in so doing
I set myself fee
And for all that I was
And I all that I am
You should be thanking me
© Kate Tym 2010
Washing for Girls
In a house full of girls
The washing machine whirls and whirls and whirls
It whirls with one more load than you think
There's a light load, a dark load and a load that is pink
© Kate Tym
Super Biscuit
Wilbur and me invented a Super Biscuit
We manufactured it in our kitchen
We took a mint-chocolate Matchmaker
And stuffed it inside a Marks and Spencer melt-in-the-mouth biscuit curl
It was a biscuit, but not as we know it
It was Super Biscuit
We bit through the golden shell of the biscuit curl
Into the velvety smoothness of the minty choc
Our biscuit rocked
We felt elated
We rated our biscuit above all others
We were brothers in biscuity arms
We had created a Super Biscuit
Later, on the couch, we argued over who had eaten all the Cheesy Wotsits
I pointed out our Super Biscuit collaboration of earlier in the day
Wilbur relented
Our relationship cemented by the Super Biscuit
We created and ate several more in celebration
Our elation reinvigorated
We were smug inventors of the Super Biscuit
And we felt slightly sick
© Kate Tym
The Sump Hunt
My car's sump is broken
My husband has sent me
To a garage in Seaford
To get a salvaged one for
Fifty quid
My friend Claire has come with me
We feel like Thelma and Louise
Two girls in a man's world
It's a dump
The place of the sump
But it's a manly dump
It is covered in tyres
And broken bits of cars
And we like that
There are oily men
In overalls
We smile at them
As we show them the old
Sump off my car
'Here is my sump,' I say provocatively
It is not the same as the spare sump he has
'You've had a wasted journey,' he says
But it is not wasted
For a moment Claire and I felt the power
Of the mechanic's wrench
And our engines quietly purred.
© Kate Tym
Sunday Morning TV
On Sunday mornings
We sometimes stick the kids in front of a video
So we can have a shag
Lots of telly, for the kids, is generally not my bag
But on this occasion I'll make an exception
If it gives me time to focus on my husband's erection
Spongebob Squarepants the video of choice
Our silent rutting accompanied by Spongebob's distant voice
I don't feel too bad about the telly viewing
If the kids stay oblivious to what Mum and Dad are doing
And it doesn't take very long for us to do our stuff
In fact one episode is more than enough
Spongebob is brilliant - deserving an ovation
For Sunday morning telly and parental fornication
© Kate Tym 2009
Why Can't Men Hang Out Washing?
Men are logical creatures
So why can't they hang out washing?
There's a logic to it
A way to do it
That ensures eveness of drying
And crease free clothes
My husband hasn't mastered those
He says it's because he
Operates on a higher plane
I say it's because he's an idiot.
© Kate Tym
What are we Protecting our Children from?
What are we protecting our children from?
Big bums
Saggy tits
Old ladies wrinkly bits
Cellulite
Caesarean scars
What we look like out of bras
Wobbly thighs
Overgrown bushes
Knobbly knees
And skinny tushes
Bingo wings
Tampon strings
And other really scary things
Like growths and moles
And belly button holes
No two people are alike
Fluffy girly
Big butch dike
All of them have their place
In the fabulous human race
Yet the naked form is not the norm
Unless it's trimmed and tucked
The concept's fucked
My girls can see anorexic clones
Ribby chests jutting bones
Barbie dolls with blow-up knockers
Here's the shocker
Real breasts don't look like that
Some are deflated, sucked flat
From feeding babies
And d'you know what?
Maybe that's OK.
© Kate Tym
Invisible Woman
I used to get wolf whistled
Regularly
And I snarled back
'I am not an object'
Now I am invisible
I don't know when it happened
Whether a day tripped over into the next
And the hecklers
No longer saw me
Or whether it was gradual
When I went from waving
The sex flag boldly
To having the colour slowly
Drain from me
Until no-one saw me at all
So now I address the builders of the world
Forget young girls with provocative pouts
Save your shouts for those who need it most
The ghosts of young women
Now grown old
If you see a woman of a certain age make her day
Shout way-hay
Forget about the sisterhood united
Whistle at the old birds
They'll be bloody delighted
© Kate Tym 2010
Mr Charisma
My friend has a husband
I call him Mr Charisma
He has been scrubbed clean
Of any personality
He comes to drop off my kids after play dates
I say, 'all right, mate,' through gritted teeth
Then heave a sigh of relief as I close the door
'Imagine a night in with him!' I say to my husband
'He is so unbelievably boring'
My husband doesn't reply
He is on the couch in front of the telly
Fast asleep and snoring
© Kate Tym
The Oldest One
The oldest one stresses me out
She SHOUTS
Loudly
Her voice slicing through me
She questions
EVERYTHING
She is
Exhausting
She battles
Rails against me
Fights for independence
Competes with her sisters
Constantly
But in the end
She is my daughter
And there is love
Enough
She brings me things she has made
Little offerings
I put them on the kitchen windowsill
My maternal shrine
A temple of treasures
Won at the penny arcade
I look at them as I do the washing up
And wonder if I am deserving
Of these bits of tat
Rendered precious by my child's touch
Instilled with her longing to be loved
By me
I vow to try harder
To be more patient
And then she bursts into the room
SHOUTING
And
I
shout
back
© Kate Tym 2009
Fridge Art
We went to an "open studio" Art exhibition In the studio On the counter There was a little brown fridge. It was shabby And its door was open. "Is this art or is it a fridge? " I asked the man. "It's a fridge, " he said. But there was something about it. Small. Square. Broken. Little fridge In my heart You will always be Art
© Kate Tym 2009
Our Bed
I like it when it's crumpled and grubby And smells of sweat and sex Tea stained and lived in Sheet screwed and pillow squashed Crumb infested Time invested in getting it this way An aroma added every day A pit that fits our naked little bits The perfect place to meet face and face To embrace, and curl, Spoon around each other Puffy eyed and hair akimbo In the early morning limbo between night and day If only it could stay this way But I like it too when it's crisp and new Cleanly changed Cushions arranged Sheet straight Hospital corners and linen cool A place to slip into without making a ripple Cold feet pointing towards morning Our hands meet in the middle And intertwine, neatly aligned, two skittles in their box Relishing the orderliness The outside inside smell of unpegged washing This is a place of stillness and logic Karmic peace and transcendental thoughts Until one cup of tea, one slice of toast, one night of passion And several small children later It transforms And becomes again Our Bed
© Kate Tym 2010
Poems for Children
Busy Body
Hair can be short or long
Weak or strong
Wavy or curly
Boyish or girly
Filthy dirty or clean and nice
Fine and healthy or full of lice!
Wash it comb it treat it with care
Because one day it might not be there!
(if you're a boy!)
Wink them blink them rub them too
Eyes can be green or brown or blue
Eyes can see and eyes can cry
And eyes might show when you tell a lie
Some eyes need glasses to clear the view
So it's lucky we've got a pair of ears too!
(to rest your glasses on!)
What's the best thing do you suppose
About your rather fabulous nose?
Smelling, itching and sniffing too
Let's here it for sneezing AAAATTTTCCHHHOOOOO!
Big mouth small mouth
Open wide
And pop a delicious little sweet inside
Stick out your tongue
Smile please!
Chew on a toffee or chomp on cheese
The thing about my mouth that I'd really miss
Is a great big smoochy sloppy old kiss!
© Kate Tym 2009
Return to TopFor Richard, Our Lollipop Man
Come rain or shine
You're on time,
standing in the lane
In the hail
Without fail
Or in a hurricane
You're always jolly
With your lolly
To cross without you would be folly
So thank you very much!
© Kate Tym 2008
Return to TopA Goldfish's Vote of Thanks
Firstly I would like to thank
From the bottom of my tank
Nicky Shorter, the cleaner's daughter
Who always comes to change my water -
Whenever she's around
Secondly my thanks extend
To a very loyal friend
Mrs Meacher, 3B's teacher
A very kind and caring creature
She keeps my filter clean
Katy Clarke's third on my list
A feeding time she's never missed
Without her I would not exist
Her passing form I've often kissed -
Through the glass of my watery world
The fourth and final candidate
I'd like to thank for being great
Is someone I think of as a mate
Who makes the long and lonely wait
Of summer so much better
It's no one else but Mr Reed
A headmaster with a special creed -
To cater for my every need -
And act on this in thought and deed
For six weeks every summer
So as the term will soon be over
I don't want to sound a complete pushover
But you've kept me in goldfish clover
I'm well and truly (goldfish) bowled over
So thank you every one!
© Kate Tym 2004
Return to TopA Hamster's Lament
Imagine what it's like in here
Year after tortuous year
When no one really gives a jot
If I'm happy or if I'm not
And no one seems to give a stuff
If my water's changed enough
Or if there's straw for my bed
Or even when or if I'm fed!
I would say Mrs Kelly's to blame
But all of them are just the same
No matter who's in charge I find
The children often less than kind
Some laugh at me and call me smelly
Or prod and poke my little belly
And no one wants to clean my cage
It fills me with a hamster rage
And the holidays are just as bad
To think of it, it makes me sad
How they all fight to make me thries
But once they've got me no one cares
What the break is like for me
No special seeds or fruit for tea
No kind words, no soft strokes
Just the usual taunts and pokes
Until the hols are at an end
When they clean the cage and pretend
They've loved me every single day
Spun my wheel and watched me play
When I alone know the dreadful truth
About the heartlessness of youth
And wish a wish as I often do
That I get transferred to the local zoo!
© Kate Tym 2004
Return to TopGiraffe
When I stretch my neck
I can see for miles
I can see the hippos
And the crocodiles
I can see flamingos
Pink and bright
And the shining stars
In the jet-black night
I can see the gazelles
And the springboks leaping
Hyenas laughing
And lions creeping
I can see the vultures
Circling round
And a snake slithering into
Its hole underground
With a neck like mine
There's no need to roam
As I can see Africa
My home sweet home
© Kate Tym 2004
Return to TopHippo
I'm a hippo
Dontcha know
Not too fast
And not too slow
Nice and fat
I like it like that
Dirtier than a
Dirty rat
© Kate Tym 2005
Return to TopRhino
I'm a rhino
Dontcha know
Sometimes fast
And sometimes slow
Don't do calmer
I like drama
Why d'ya think
I'm wearing armour?
© Kate Tym 2005
Return to TopJaguar
I'm Jaguar
I race
At one heck of a pace
I'm in your face
The big cat about the place
Catch me if you can -
...Man.
© Kate Tym 2004
Return to TopLion
It drives the lioness completely crazy
That her man's so yawningly lazy
As he lies in the shade of a leafy tree
Wondering what he'll be brought for his tea
Perhaps a tasty wildebeest?
Or a warthog – always good for a feast
Scratching his back and shaking his mane
While his wife and cubs run round the plain
Crouching in the grass in the midday heat
So he can have something tasty to eat
And the selfish critter, without a care
Always helps himself to the lion's share
Snarling at any who dare to try
To get a slice of his antelope pie
Growling and flashing his needle-like claws
Biffing the little ones with boxing-glove paws
Then rolling over, some cubs in his lap
For a very important big-cat-nap
But if you think he's really the king
Just watch the lioness do her thing
It's the lady lion keeps the pride on track
It's the Mrs that's the head of this pack
He and roar and snarl but for all of that
He's really just a great big pussy cat
© Kate Tym 2005
Return to TopTiger
Stripey
Stalky
Sneaky
Growly
Prowly
Crouchy
Creepy
Scratchy
Snappy
Pouncy
Bouncy
Tiger
© Kate Tym 2006
Return to TopSpooky Story
I hope you're feeling hale and hearty
Because I want to tell you about a party
A Halloween party for spooks and witches
In trailing coats and sparkly britches
A party with bats and vampires and snakes
Boiled rat soup and bogey cakes
A party with magical farting owls
Who turn smiley faces into scowls
Now, this party took place in All Souls Hall
Sometime in October if I recall
The first to arrive was the skeleton, Bea
She had to come first because she had the key
Then came Louis the ogre so fat and hairy
That even the skeleton found him scary
The witches came next Lara and Maia
With a cauldron perched on a magical fire
Then goblins Gregory, Scott and Ryan
Who had caught some mice and were trying to fry 'em
Harry came next, a mummy from a tomb
Then Gabby and Buddy joined the gloom
Moaning and groaning as spooks will do
A cackling, grunting ghostly crew
Then came the vampires Max and Isabella
Who nuzzled the neck of a plump young fella
Before joining her friends Luke and Niamh
Who had tarantula tucked up her sleeve
Joshua followed with peg-leg Jake
Who'd brought the spectacular party cake
Lily had made it from slugs and worms
And added some dog sick just for the germs
Tallulah ate some and said 'it's delish!'
And Ethan declared it his favourite dish
Evie jumped up and played on her fiddle
While Freya and Marnie danced in the middle
Mathilda, Rosie, Florence and Daisy
Stomped and span and twirled like crazy
Grabbing hold of poor old Luke
Who looked like he was going to ... Puke!
Hannah howled and Olivia growled
While Aidan and Benedict slowly prowled
Around the room in search of ants
They wanted to drop them down Dylan's pants
Sammy was chomping on rotten egg pies
While Amy was juggling dead cats' eyes
Joseph filled party bags full of slime
And dropped in beetles one at a time
While Willow put in a treat or two
Including smelly doggy do
And as the party drew to an end
One last message was left to send
A powerful spell a magical mutter
That Lotti arose and began to utter
By day, by night, by dark by light
Through days through years
And in and out of never
All who came to the Halloween Party
All who listened hale and hearty
Shall stay firm friends... Forever!
© Kate Tym 2007
Return to TopWe Love Our Family
Tallulah likes dollies and teddies and rabbits
She likes dressing as a fairy and a ballerina too
Tallulah likes sweets and crisps and cherries
Saying 'No' loudly and shoes that are new
Maia likes dragon and telly and dancing
Wearing party dresses and putting on a show
Maia likes sweets and crisps and carrots
Hiding behind the curtains and burping in a row
Lotti likes lamby and bunny and Rupert
Writing and drawing and doing her beads
Lotti likes talking and having her hair done
And shelves and shelves full of books which she reads
Mummy likes relaxing, sunshine and reading
Chocolate and puddings and curries full of spice
Mummy likes children who answer her politely
And Mummy likes not having to say things twice
Wilbur likes football and sleeping and surfing
Pickled-onion flavoured crisps and curry with rice
Wilbur likes children who answer him politely
And Wilbur likes not having to say things twice
Tallulah hates real clothes, nappies and vegetables
People saying 'No' to her and having her face wiped
Tallulah hates wet grass, nose blows and eczema
Being too small for the bicycle and having her toys swiped
Maia hates the dark, hair-wash time and tidying
And Lotti shouting at her which is never very nice
Maia hates dressing herself and putting her own shoes on
And having her hair brushed or worse, checked for lice!
Lotti hates Tallulah taking pieces from her puzzles
Being told it's time for bath time or sent to her room
Lotti hates always being the big sister
Shepherds pie, mushrooms and fireworks that zoom
Mummy hates mess and slugs in the garden
Emptying the dustbin and too much telly
Mummy hates shouting, snatching and hitting
Spitting and pinching and smells which are smelly
Wilbur hates work - he goes there every day you know
Emptying the dustbin, which Mummy makes him do
Wilbur hates shouting, snatching and hitting
Spitting and pinching and nappies full of poo
Tallulah loves Mummy and Wilbur (he's the daddy!)
And Maia and Lotti and the pets who are new
She loves having tickles and laughing and playing
And kisses and cuddles and 'nosey rubs' too
Maia loves Mummy and Wilbur and Tallulah
And Lotti and Henry and Rupert who's new
She loves having tickles and laughing and playing
And kisses and cuddles and 'upside-downs' too
Lotti loves Mummy and Wilbur and Maia
And Tallulah and Henry and Rupert who's new
She loves having tickles and laughing and playing
And kisses and cuddles and 'duff you ups' too
Mummy loves Wilbur and Lotti and Maia
Tallulah and Rupert and bunny Henry too
Mummy loves cuddles and kisses and snuggles
Everyone together and a day that is new
Wilbur loves Lotti and Maia and Tallulah
Rupert and Henry and, of course, Mummy
(He says he doesn't love the pets but we've all seen him
stroking them and patting them and tickling on the tummy!)
We all love camping, and barbecues and sleepovers,
Friends who come to stay with us and gifts from Auntie Sue
We love Uncle Jeremy, Grandma Jo and Arnie,
Granny Rita and Zelda and the pony Rosie Too
Then there's Uncle Christopher and also Auntie Bethan
And cousins Tom and Ashley who take us to the pool
There's Alice and Maisie and Fraser who's two now
Auntie Flo and Uncle Bert who likes to act the fool
We all love holidays and play parks and pizza
Little farms and beaches and castles which are bouncy
Candy floss and carousels and click-clack shoes to walk in
Big hats, fairy wings and dresses which are flouncy
Sometimes we shout a lot get cross and stamp our feet
Tallulah has a paddy and it lasts for half an hour!
Sometimes Maia whines or Lotti says 'Whatever!'
Or Wilbur pulls a grumpy face and Mummy looks all sour
But on the whole we're happy all of us together
We like different things but we also like each other
All the girls together in our happy family
With only one thing missing... we'd like a little brother!
© Kate Tym 2006
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