I'm a firecracker,

a bowl of punch,

a slow dance,

an apple crunch.

A running stream,

a stormy beach,

a sun drenched hill,

just within reach.

An elastic band,

a rippled tarn,

a soaring bird,

a woven yarn.

A cosy chair,

a coiled spring,

a bubbling brook

and other things.

                        © Liz Mitchell 2011


What’s been normal

Irritatingly typical

Is the need for analytical


But now I’m normal

Cognitively typical

Not needing analytical


                        © Liz Mitchell 2004

Here’s a smattering of my poetry. I’m currently looking for a publisher for this and the children’s book I am writing, so if you happen to be one or know one, please get in touch.


Every once in a while,

I begin to smile,

Over thoughts of happiness and glee.

Those smiles, I have found,

Are terminally in-ground

From thinking of us; you and me.

                        © Liz Mitchell 2005

Tiger, Tiger



Tiger eyes.

Burning bright. Thrill of the fight.

Got the get up. Big red gloves.

Ready now. Feel the love.

I'm on the circuit. Found my spar.

Punchbag sways. Not too far.

Follow follow. Watch the flow.

Don't look away. Feel my blow.

Duck, dive. I'm so alive.

Upper cut (were his eyes shut?).

Jab here, jab there. Wild tiger flare.

Stripes a blur - fleece or fur?

Got ears, got paws, got gnashing teeth. 

He strikes out. Disbelief.

Left hook arrives. Right one stuns me.

But his fight was doomed. By my tiger onesie.

                        © Liz Mitchell 2014