Fire Burn, Cauldron Bubble

Fire Burn, Cauldron Bubble
chosen by Paul Cookson, illustrated by Eilidh Muldoon
Bloomsbury Education

Poet, Paul Cookson has brewed up an anthological crucible that’s brimming over with magical poems, over seventy in all. He’s spread his web wide gathering a rich and varied mix of ingredients that includes classics such as Shakespeare’s Over Hill, Over Dale; from a Midsummer Night’s Dream, Tennyson’s The Kraken and Lewis Carroll’s Dreamland, as well as a host of contemporary poets, established and rising.

I really enjoyed every single one and it’s impossible to select favourites, as it depends on mood as much as anything; but on the day I received my review copy I’d spent at least two hours screaming at my new Macbook which had supposedly had everything migrated from the previous one, but there were lots of things unexpectedly going wrong.

I was greatly amused to find the book opened itself at Stan Cullimore’s Song of the Witches (when their Internet Wasn’t Working) with its opening lines ‘Double, double, click that bubble / We have got computer trouble’. Shame I couldn’t fix it with the poet’s final line ‘Just had to switch it off and on again’ that works so often with computer woes. I suspect Paul himself was using a bit of his ‘Telepathically Magical’ power to cause me to start on that particular page, and no, my answer was not … 3 and I’m still struggling – three days later. A-hah! That’s it!

I know many youngsters who will take great delight in James Carter’s How To Turn Your Teacher Purple! – ‘Heebie Geebie, Hurple Burple / Time To Turn My Teacher … PURPLE!’
I just hope none of them test it out on me though. I definitely wouldn’t countenance being fed with ‘beetroot every hour’ – can’t stand the stuff.

I will certainly avoid doing what the filling of Graham Denton’s four liner did too …

And I’m going to share Matt Goodfellow’s An Example of my Amazing Ability to Make People (Namely my Older Sister) Spontaneously Combust Without Even Touching Them with 5 year old Samuel. It goes like this:
‘I pour away her perfume / scribble in her books / dribble on her mobile phone / and give her dirty looks // pull down all her posters / trample on her clothes / then leg it to my bedroom / and hey presto // she explodes.’
I suspect however that he’s too good natured to try it, but you never know.

Rather than waxing lyrical about the rest of the elements of this marvellous mix, let me just say that Paul serves up a terrific repast here and it’s one to relish whatever the season. Spellbinding it certainly is and I totally love the addition of Eilidh Muldoon’s visual garnishing.

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