Poetry Is 2017 Poetry is 2018 6M | Page 12

Alonso

In the Green Wood

Wes Magee

‘Here in my cottage

Deep in the green wood

I live on my own

And eat children pud.

No one would guess

That I’m up to no good

Here in my cottage

Deep in the green wood.

‘I stand at the door

And look pretty nice.

My lipstick is red,

My eyes green as ice,

And my cottage is made

Of sugar and spice

With caramel cats

And marzipan mice.

‘Kids lost in the wood

Stop here to eat

My windows and walls

They find such a treat.

They think that I’m ace

And terribly sweet

When I ask them inside

To rest their poor feet.

‘As soon as they’re trapped

I bolt the front door.

The shocked kids see bones

All over the floor.

They see I’m a witch

With warts on her jaw,

One broken tooth

And a wig made of straw

When I was small I found the story of Hansel and Gretel very scary. The Tales of Grimm were on television and I remember this story in particular – it was frightening, but the version I knew had a good ending. I like the way ‘In the Green Wood’ is narrated by the witch as usually the main characters’ point of views are given. I like the rhythm of the poem and the rhyme pattern, these combined with the words makes it an effective and entertaining poem. I particularly like the lines, “‘The kids try to hide/ In my smelly old room/ But I soon sniff them out/In the cobwebby gloom.” I can imagine the cobwebs and spiders and I can imagine being in this “smelly old room” with the witch sniffing me out!

Poetry is a floating spider web of magic that never ends…

‘The kids try to hide

In my smelly old room

But I soon sniff them out

In the cobwebby gloom.

I give them a whack

With a dirty great broom

And into my oven

They go to their doom.

‘I bake the lost kids

Till they tender and nice

Then serve them up hot

With lashings of rice.

I garnish with gnats

And finely ground lice

Here in my cottage

Of (hah!) sugar and spice.

‘Parents come searching

-just as they should,

But none of them guess

I’m up to no good

Or that their lost kids

Are yum scrummy pud

Here in my cottage

Deep in the green wood.'