I have written children’s stories off and on, all my adult life. I am drawn to the wonderful worlds depicted in children’s books. As a child, I enjoyed being read to. And as an adult, I want to recreate those magical experiences for families.
The creator must consider how to marry the text and image into an integrated whole.
I am a published illustrator and a member of CWILL. But ideally, I hope one day to illustrate my own stories. This is a common wish by illustrators because of the organic way a story unfolds during the creative process. The creator must consider how to marry the text and image into an integrated whole.
The common thread with my writing seems to be structuring a humorous and absurd storylines in which the characters play with both chaos and order in order to eventually find a balance that works for them. While the stories are meant to be amusing, they do touch upon significant issues, introducing a variety of possible solutions, interpretations and meanings.
‘Simon Bibbs Goes Dog walking’
By Karen Hibbard – © all rights reserved
Every Wednesday, at half past three
Simon visits his Auntie’s
After on the phone talking
Auntie Jelly goes dog walking.
Some are tall with assorted tails
Others thin with longish nails
One frankfurter, so earthbound
His belly caresses carpet ground.
Simon invisible under an Alsatian
Two terriers locked in conversation
Fur tickling between his knees
‘Caused by the hair of a Burmese.
Then an urgent phone call
Resulting in a doggie brawl
Auntie Jelly turning red
“To the rescue!” she said.
Patting Simon on the head
Off she dashed. Then she fled
Simon’s heart beating madly
His hands wet and clammy.
As the sun began to drape
The trees took ominous shape
The air turning chilly
Dog eyes darting wily nilly.
The unruly mob jumped and tore
Pulling Simon through the door
As they ripped through the gate
A dray of squirrels shrieked “Simon, wait!!!”
A cotillion of cyclists flocking
Dogs, at the cross walk, frantic barking
Cars streaming, honking, uneven
The appearance of a helpful policeman.
Before them the dark woods arose
Full of crannies, nooks and flows
Park paths crooked and winding
Ruled by a trickster spellbinding
Monsieur Grenier slightly bent
Poor Simon utterly spent
The Scoundrel said, “Let go!”
To Grenier’s surprise, Simon did so.
The wind whipped up a distressful song
Crisp brown leaves danced along
Not a single dog in sight
which gave Simon an awful fright.
Auntie Jelly would miss her hounds
Their love for her knew no bounds
Simon imagined Auntie Jelly pooch-less
The unfortunate mutts smooch-less.
Then Simon envisioned a golden glimmer
Before every dog, a scrumptious dinner
Sleeping heads filled with delightful dreams
Jelly stitching dog sweater seams.
So Simon drew himself up tall
Having previously felt so small
Proceeding down to the bog
He would find every last dog.
One was found in a tree
“Down this instant” Simon decreed
Another sat glumly in a gully
To him, Simon cried ‘Stop this folly”
A rambunctious black Lab serenading a frog
A Pekinese playing hide and seek in a log.
A daintily dressed ladybug traipsing
Along the muzzle of young Schnaipsing.
Each and every dog collected
Attached to a leash, hugged and petted
Auntie Jelly dogless no longer
Simon Bibbs feeling stronger.
“Simon you are marvellous!”
Auntie Jelly hugging him
She tucked in the Irish Setters
Asleep in matching red sweaters.
Past the park where Monsieur Grenier dwells
Past the crosswalk with bicycle bells
Past policemen kindly thwarting
A stream of cars dangerously cavorting.
Every Wednesday, at half past three
Simon visits his Auntie’s
After on the phone talking
Auntie Jelly goes dog walking.
The End