Goldilocks by Carole Bromley


I’d listened at the door; they were always there,
the daddy with the voice and the enormous chair,
the mummy with the pinny, stirring the vat;
banging his spoon, their spoilt wee brat.

The chance came soon; they were humouring
the kid, swinging him hand to hand,
There there, baby bear let’s leave our bowls,
walk in the forest till the porridge cools.

All the more for me; I walked in from the yard
climbed onto daddy’s chair – far too hard.
You know the score – hard, soft, right
hot, cold, fine; big, small, mine.

Point was I had the whole place to myself,
put telly on, took a bath, rearranged a shelf.
Then it was Who’s been sitting in our chairs,
helping themselves? Beds are for bears

and this one’s bust. Yeah, yeah, fair cop.
But they chased after me and didn’t stop
till jumping out the window was the only way;
and there’s me thinking they’d ask me to stay.

But I’ll be back, you mark my words;
bears living in houses! It’s just absurd;
bears eating porridge, bears wearing frocks –
next time they’re out I’m changing the locks.

(‘Goldilocks’ was shortlisted for the Manchester Writing for Children Award 2014 and published in the anthology Let in the Stars.)

Carole Bromley is a teacher from York. She has two pamphlets and a collection from Smith/Doorstop and a second book, The Stonegate Devil, was published in October 2015. Carole is the stanza rep for York, blogs at and from October 2015 has been running poetry surgeries in York for the Poetry Society. Website

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