The Dirigible Balloon
Poetry for Children

Angel Awake

A year in the dark in a box of baubles,
I counted Brussel sprouts, couldn’t get to sleep.

Now stuck on top of this plastic tree, my eyes
take a while to adjust to fairy lights.
I watch in silence (haven’t made me a mouth),
squat immobile (didn’t bother with legs).
I look around, see cards on the mantlepiece,
look out, see sleet, wait patiently— what else?

There’s a plate, mince pies and a sherry
set up by the chimney. I hear a scrabbling sound.
Old man, white beard, red coat, drops in again,
shakes himself down, empties a sack, scoffs the pies.
Later, laughter, children burst into the room,
fingers ripping wrapping, adults slump on the sofa.

All afternoon the drone and flicker
of something across the room—
Christmas quiz, Christmas special,
Christmas appeals for cats, dogs, donkeys,
polar bears and
children wanting food and hope.

I cry dry tears from plastic eyes,
if I could fly I’d break right through that screen.
How I want to work these cardboard wings,
to wave this wand and bring the world a change.

In January the lights go out, I’m back in the box,
crushed,
awake and counting.

About the Writer


David Bleiman

David is a grandfather and poet living in Edinburgh. He loves to write across the languages and his first pamphlet, This Kilt of Many Colours (Dempsey & Windle, 2021) is a multilingual mixter-maxter in English, Scots, Spanish and Yiddish. This celebration of David's Jewish heritage includes the prizewinning Trebbler's Tale, written in a partly excavated but largely reimagined lost dialect of Scots-Yiddish. With the sense of humour of an overgrown schoolboy, David is now writing childish poems for himself and other children.