About Me

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London, United Kingdom
Holly Searle is a writer who was born in Westminster in the middle of London. She shares her birthday with Jarvis Cocker and David Seaman and like Jarvis Cocker she wears glasses but has nothing whatsoever in common with David Seaman. She is fascinated by words, people and their stories, and regularly spends hours fantasising about being offered a weekly column. She has a degree in Film and Television which she gained from Brunel University in 1997. She has been blessed with two quite remarkable children whom she adores. She enjoys the company of her friends and the circus that is life. Long Walk to Forever by Kurt Vonnegut is her favourite short story. She is the author of the published children's tale The Story of Balan Singh, and is currently working on her first book.

Poems

A Tiny Love Story

And the rain came down one August night.
'Once we get past that tree, I am going to hold your hand.'
He paused.
'And then I am going to kiss you.'
She laughed.
They passed the tree.
And he took her hand in his and then he kissed her.
She woke up.
And their story began.


Dobbin

You’re a dobbin,
You’re a spanner.
By now this doesn’t really matter, as you’re OUT.
No clout, you’re ineffectual, a mountainous pile of disrespectfulness.
Wind your neck in, hit the road, you’re not a FROG you’re a TOAD.
Good grief, what’s the point?
I’d cry if it wasn’t so funny.
You’re a dobbin,
You’re a spanner.
And a Muppet for that matter.
Still, all the same, it’s a blessing to know these facts prior to the accessory.
A lucky escape, without a tunnel.
Because I had the vision, you see?
It’s been emotional.
I will not miss you, as I properly never kissed you.
Farewell to arms (that might have been) had you not been so thoughtless.
Goodness, you’re a mess!
Pick yourself up, and dust yourself off.
These are not words that you will hear from me.
Too late sonny Jim, or Rin Tin Tin.
Dobbin.
Spanner.

All that Love Stuff

I’ve given up on all that love stuff
It’s just too much to bare.
The continual endless wondering of why you can’t be there.
I’ve given up on all that love stuff
It’s too spiteful and too raw.
Your blatant disregard for me makes me feel just like a whore. 
So, I have given up on all that love stuff.
It’s a meal I’ll never consume.
I’d rather enjoy simple pleasures, like seeing new crocuses in bloom.
It’s a marvel too shed all that love stuff
I’ll be just fine and dandy see.
As I finally realise it was just a fondant fancy I once dreamt about for tea.

A Simple Poem


It's pretty simple really, the delights there are to see.
When I see you smiling my darling, it means everything to me.

It's pretty simple really, the delights there are to steal.
Your hand in mine is priceless, it makes me feel, feel, feel.

It's pretty simple really, the delight there are to hear.
Your laughter fills the cold still voids, and is a joy my dear.

It's pretty simple really, the delights you bless me with.
No presents ever needed, as you always give, give, give.



Kids

When the Sun came out, all the children went outside to play.

When the rain came along, they stayed inside that day.

When the snow came down, they squealed with excited glee.

But they soon got cold, and went inside and ate their tea.



Telly


When there was no telly, what did people do?

I bet they listened to the radio whilst polishing their shoes.

And I bet their imagination was better that they did.

And that their shoes were nice and shiny like a cake tin lid.


So There 


When I was Phat, I wasn't Fat.

But when I was Fat, I wasn't Phat.

Now I am both Phat and Fat

And Fat and Phat.

And all that.

So there.



Spammers 



Marauders of crime,

Often, leave a trail behind.

I'd be careful next time,

Or you'll end up in the slammer with all the internet spammers,

And who wants to eat their porridge with that slime.


Opinion Number One 


Men don't like me,

They think I am snooty,

I don't know why,

Maybe I am.



Girl Talk 


Bums, breasts and diets,

Are the things of which women speak.

Men, life and disasters,

Make them lonely, meek and weak.




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