The hole in the wall
A little boy looks into a dry stone wall and imagines who might inhabit it. Poem with illustrations. A6 softback (postcard size) 24 pages.
Words and illustrations by Ann Perrin
Produced by The Dry Stone Walling Education Project
The Puppeteers Daughter
The poems explore the complexity of life as the daughter of marionette makers and performers. There are poems concerned with life, love and loss, also the seaside, artists, allotments and the eccentricities of life.
Buy now - £6.60
Don’t Throw Away the Daisies (illustrated)
- On World Puppetry Day, thinking about the part of my life spent treading the boards.
- Strange times – celebrations – love – loss and poetry
- More life and times of ageing puppeteer, writer and poet.
- My poem translated into Italian – Bluebells – Garden – Memoir.
- March – another month is flying by…
- Emerging from the chaos of 2020 inevitably older but wiser?
- Telegoons – based on The Goon show – their role in my downfall!
- Creativity – lockdown – but everything is the garden is lovely!
- Talking to myself – pictures – poems
- Early summer in the garden. Pictures -puppet – poems
- Memories – VE day in Balmore Street London N.19 and poetry.
- Happy Easter
- The way the brain may cope with self isolation –
- A magical mother – pictures – poems – stories.
- Hands upon hands and so expressive.
- Signs of spring in Saltdean despite wild weather…
- A garden poem and love the marionettes!
- Lace making – poem and pictures
- Pure escapism painting, photography, singing and puppets.
- Sorting essays, stories and photos of our marionettes at last.
Copyright© Ann Perrin, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all illustrations without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Please leave a comment for moderation if you wish to contact the author and illustrator with any enquiry.
Tag Archives: VE Day
I guess we must have been a patriotic lot in London in 1945. I was only 4 and a half but I think I had picked up on my mother’s terror, the bombs, the constant need of escape and the … Continue reading