This is the real reason kids should put the lid back on the toothpaste:
When you’ve carefully brushed your teeth,
Put the lid back on the paste.
This isn’t to stop it drying out…
It’s because spiders love the taste!
children’s poem
No Cat Puns
There are no cat puns in this poem,
No feline phrases flowing.
Don’t have kittens with anxiety:
That would be a cat-astrophe
This poem is far from purr-fect
Everybody Farts…
I “wrote” this for my three-year old… I thought some of you may enjoy it too. There is no pretence of high art here!
Everybody Farts (with apologies to R.E.M.)
When your meal is long
And dessert, the dessert is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this meal, well hold on
Don’t think of letting one go
‘Cause everybody lies
And everybody farts… sometimes
Sometimes you feel gassy and all wrong
Well it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting one go (Hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this meal, well hold on
Everybody farts
Take comfort in that fact
Everybody farts
Don’t throw it from your hand, oh no
Don’t throw it from your hand
If you think that you’re alone
No, no, no, you are not alone
(what would they think?)
Well, everybody farts sometimes
Everybody lies
Everybody farts sometimes
And everybody farts sometimes
Don’t hold on, hold on
Don’t hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody farts
Photo credit: flickr.com/photos/zoliblog/3277272645
Christmas is Coming!
In an effort to curb my natural Grinchyness, I’m going to try some festive poetry over the next week or so…
Christmas is coming, this dad is getting fat
The tinsel’s off the tree and is wrapped around the cat
There’s nothing on the telly and the boys are getting bored
Why is this the holiday that everyone adored?
Photo: flickr.com/photos/atomicfamily/311678265
The Snail In My Garden
There’s a snail in my garden
Hiding in its shell
I’m not sure where it’s been
It’s sometimes hard to tell
There is one thing that troubles me
And causes me some doubt.
The answer to this question:
Is it in or out?
flickr.com/photos/venkatarameshkommoju/13923176714
OctPoWriMo #24 – The Cat on the Stair
The cat sat.
Sat and stared.
Sat and stared upon the stair.
Upon the stair, it sat and stared.
It was a cat and mouse affair.
Without the mouse.
Today’s OctPoWriMo prompt was to search through the photos at PublicDomainPictures.net until you find one that sparks a story poem for you…
The Buoyant Bubble (poem)
A buoyant bubble floated by
Borne upon the breeze
A buoyant bubble hanging there
In days as long as these
That buoyant bubble bore inside
A hundred hopes and dreams
That buoyant bubble full of wishes
Glistens and it gleams
The buoyant bubble on the breeze
It starts and then it stops
I go to catch the buoyant bubble
It pops
Picture courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/ferran-jorda/2903135140 / Creative Commons
This poem was inspired by a beautiful haiku by Annette Rochelle Aben – you can check it out here: https://annetterochelleaben.wordpress.com/2015/07/30/ageless-wonder/
Ghost Slug (poem)
Hiding underground
Creeping up at night
This is one night crawler
You wouldn’t want to fight
Ghost slug is its name
Ghostly are its features
It really is the creepiest
Of all the garden creatures!
Its teeth are razor sharp
(Good for chomping worms)
The slimy thought of it
Makes me want to squirm
No Scooby Doo villain:
But something very real
What’s that wriggling through your toes?
Try hard not to SQUEAL!
Picture courtesy of wikipedia… ghost slugs are real! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_slug
When The Zombie Came To Call (poem)
When the zombie came to call,
There was no answer at 56.
54 ignored it, thinking
Ethan up to his tricks.
52 said “no thank you”
Without opening his door.
Number 50 didn’t respond
(She can’t hear anymore)
48 through 42
Had all gone into town
40 had just got out of the bath
And was in her dressing gown.
Not a one even noticed
The zombie on their drive,
Taking for granted the pleasure
Of simply being alive.
And that was how it continued
For most of the rest of the day.
Life can be awful lonesome
For a zombie who just wants to play
Picture courtesy of: https://www.flickr.com/photos/vogelium/3481252317/
Slugs on Broadway (poem)
I’m a low-down dreamer
My dreams are so big…
But if life is a tree
Then I’m just a twig
I want to make my mark
Not just leave a trail
Not be mistaken for
An ugly old snail
But I’m a slug, right
Don’t want no bug fight
Just want a hug to-night
I want to be a star
The only one to beat
Standing tall
On my own one feet
But I’m a slug, right
Don’t want no bug fight
Just want a hug to-night
I’m underneath this hedge
But dreaming of those nights
Sliming down the red carpet
With my name spelt out in lights
Cuz I’m a slug, right
Don’t want no bug fight
Just need a hug,
to
night
A Certain Point of View 
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