Children’s Poetry and Other Things
Trying to eat spaghetti
is really hard to do.
The noodles slide right off my fork —
I think the sauce needs glue.
I’ll finally fork a noodle,
and as I watch it squirm,
just to bug my mother,
I’ll say, “Oh look! A worm!”
I’ll slurp that long, worm noodle
like soda through a straw,
and after tell my mother,
“I like to eat worms raw!”
Finally are the meatballs,
I eat whole — one by one.
This dinner’s more like playtime!
Spaghetti sure is fun!
The air is cold, the ice is hard;
my skates are sharp as swords.
My mom and dad are side by side
and right behind the boards.
“Get the puck!” my father yells.
The puck skids past my stick —
then Eddie Cooper steals the puck
which makes me feel quite sick.
He now goes hurtling down the ice,
the puck in his control.
The air feels even colder
as I watch him score a goal.
His goal becomes the winning goal;
they win it four to three,
and deep inside, I tell myself,
they won because of me.
Someday, it just won’t matter.
Someday, I won’t mind blame.
Someday, in fact, I’ll laugh at this
when I’m a Calgary Flame.
“Old Dogs”
Our old dog, Chester, sits alone,
and all he does is chew his bone.
I hear him gnawing without end;
his grinding drives me round the bend.
An old dog’s job must be to chew;
I guess that’s what all old dogs do.
Therefore it is because of that,
sometimes I wish he was a cat.
My brother, David, has the flu;
his face is ghastly white.
Apparently, the little guy
threw-up all through the night.
He has the shakes, he has the chills,
pain pounds inside his head,
and when he sleeps, he looks so bad
you’d think that he was dead.
Despite all this, I smile with thoughts
about the little guy.
Because his stomach is so sick,
I get to eat his pie!
I’m sitting here just waiting —
my face is hot and red.
I have to make a speech today
which fills me with great dread.
Miss Roberts will say, “Freddy,
it’s time we heard from you.”
And so I’ll shuffle to the front;
there’s nothing else to do.
My teacher says to babble
about my boring life,
or maybe talk about my dreams —
the job, the kids, the wife?
I’ll tell them I play hockey.
I’ll tell them bout my bird.
I’ll tell them I like TV.
I’ll feel just like a nerd.
For as I stand there talking,
my friend will sit and smirk
and that’s why public speaking
makes me feel like such a jerk.
I guess that I’ll survive it.
I’ll sigh when I’m all done,
and when my friend gets up to speak —
believe me — I’ll have fun!
“Boy Logic”
A cocker spaniel
and a poodle
make a cockapoo.
Which means
a goat
and a squirrel
make a girl.
I knew if I didn’t get it,
I certainly would die.
I begged my mom to buy it,
and I began to cry.
I promised I’d dry dishes,
each night without a frown.
I told her I’d do anything,
and tearfully, looked down.
“Forget it!” were her first words,
“You’ve all the toys you need.
You hardly play with them at all.
Now, don’t you start to plead.”
But plead I did and she gave in —
I got what I adored!
Soon I went home and played with it,
and quietly felt bored.
My face is so disgusting
cause I have the chicken pox.
I have so many on my feet
no way can I wear socks.
They drive me mad with itching,
all day and through the night.
Those ugly spots just everywhere
make me a dreadful sight!
I really hate these chicken pox!
They make me scream and cry,
but my mom has assured me that
they will not make me die.
My brother’s been harassing me —
he calls me “Monster Head”!
I get so mad I scream at him,
“You rotten brat — DROP DEAD!”
But now, today, there’s been a change,
and I can finally grin,
because a great big chicken pox
sits on my brother’s chin!
“Tightrope”
He walks the tightrope in the air
while all the people sit and stare,
and as they watch, the thought of all
is will this fellow slip and fall.
No doubt – he’d be the bravest yet
if down below there were no net.
In fall, the leaves come tumbling down,
and guess who does the raking!
Yes, leaves of red and gold and orange
just lead to muscles aching.
I rake until I think I’ll drop;
Dad says it’s good for me.
But I’m quite sure, deep in my heart,
there’s no way that can be.
So here I am with rake in hand
and praying really hard,
that wind will come and blow our leaves
into our neighbour’s yard.
