That Word

Our parrot, Polly, says a word

I’m not allowed to say,

and when she does, it’s plain to see,

it ruins my parents’ day.

When Polly says that nasty word,

it causes Mom to shriek,

”You really are a rotten bird!

I ought to glue your beak!”

When Polly says that filthy word,

in front of dear old Dad,

his face will turn the darkest red

because he’s boiling mad.

My parents say that Polly got

that word from our TV.

What they don’t know is that she

learned that dirty word from me!

This poem was originally published in 2001 in my poetry book, The New Toe: Poems To Tickle Your Funnybone


I’ve heard a lot of rumours

bout people at my school.

My mom says, “Don’t believe them

cause rumours often fool.”

I’ve heard that Jenny Matthews

studies through the night,

and that’s the only reason

she always gets things right.

I’ve heard that Peter Temple

thinks that he can fly,

and, I mean, without a plane

up into the sky.

I’ve even heard Miss Andrews,

who teaches at our school,

used to be a movie star —

and that’s why she’s so cool.

I could go on for hours

about the things I’ve heard,

but my mom keeps on saying,

”Don’t believe a word!”

Who makes up all these rumours?

I haven’t got a clue,

but it would be exciting

if all of them were true!

I Hate Hiccups

One day, after gulping down

a big tuna fish sandwich,

I got the hiccups.

Hiccup! Hiccup!

I hate hiccups!

”Breathe into this bag,”

my mother said,

so I did.

I breathed,

and breathed,

and breathed.

No hiccups!

Obviously, I’d trapped them

in the bag.

I threw the bag into the garbage,

but then – hiccup! Hiccup!

I hate hiccups!

“BOO!” screamed my brother.

”AAAHHHH!” I yelled.

No hiccups!

Hey! My stupid brother scared them

out of me,

but then — hiccup! Hiccup!

I hate hiccups!

”Hold your breath,” my sister said,

so I did.

I held it,

and held it,

and held it.


I couldn’t hold it any longer.

No hiccups!

I’d suffocated them,

but then — hiccup! Hiccup!

I hate hiccups!

”Okay,” said my dad,

”I’ll pay you $5.00

for your next hiccup!”

I stared at him — astonished.

I waited,

and prayed,

and waited,

and prayed,

and waited,

and prayed,

for a whole hour!

No hiccups!

I REALLY hate hiccups!

Ten Pounds

My mother said she lost ten pounds,

while standing at the mirror,

and then I saw, despite her smile,

there slid a great big tear.

I thought, “Poor Mom, I’ll help her search;

those pounds must be around.”

And though I looked just everywhere,

nothing could be found.

To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure

exactly what I’d see,

but if I found them, I would know

cause ten of them they’d be!

Donny’s Donuts

Donny sure loved donuts.

In fact, that’s all he’d eat.

He would not eat his veggies.

He would not eat his meat!

He would not eat an apple.

He would not eat a pear.

He would not eat a pickle,

not even on a dare.

No, all he’d eat was donuts,

chocolate stuffed with cream,

or butterscotch with sprinkles,

or one he called “The Dream”!

You’d think this boy would suffer

from eating all that fat,

from eating all that sugar

and nothing more than that.

But Donny was protected

and would not need a nurse

because that donut-eating boy

just lives inside this verse!

The Tooth Fairy

The Tooth Fairy impresses me

with all that she can do.

How she can keep track of our teeth —

I haven’t got a clue.

But more than this, I wonder how

she sneaks up to my bed

and, in a twinkling, takes my tooth

from right beneath my head.

The biggest mystery of them all

is this — you must agree —

what does she do with all those teeth

that she has bought from me?

I’d Like To Be a Butterfly

I’d like to be a butterfly,

and fly with lovely grace.

I’d float and flutter through the day

and fly to every place.

I’d visit gardens everywhere

and flowers, I would greet.

No doubt we’d bond together

in friendship, oh so sweet!

I’d like to be a butterfly

cause everybody knows,

people sure love butterflies

just like they love a rose.

But I am not a butterfly

and no one thinks I’m nice,

and if you don’t believe me,

just ask someone with lice.

Other Things # 26 – My Pandemic Anniversaries

I felt I had to post something today because it is the one-year anniversary of my first post on The Lonely Meatball. I began my blog to help get me through this depressing period in all our lives, the Covid 19 Pandemic.

In October, the other important anniversary I’ve had during the pandemic is my Silver Wedding Anniversary. Nathan and I weren’t able to travel as we had hoped for this “milestone”, but we had our dear friends, Laurie and Jim, over for dinner, and they took this picture of us in my husband’s shop.

Had it not been for the pandemic, I probably wouldn’t have considered blogging. WD Fyfe actually gave me the idea, along with some guidance, and so I thank him especially. When I began the blog, I had a stash of old poems that had been sitting in a drawer for a few decades, and I hadn’t written a children’s poem in about 17 years. Now, I’m back to writing them because I do want to maintain the blog. It also feels good to be writing again.

My weird little illustrations are something I started because I had been told that “graphics” add to a post. They’re fun for me to draw and I’ve rediscovered that I love colouring. My ability to draw, as you can see, is limited, and it was likewise limited when I was a child. However, I would sit for hours and draw pictures of a fashion model duck, named “Klukes”. Why I called her that, I will never know, but I do know why she was a highly “stylized” duck — I couldn’t draw human faces well enough to satisfy my “standards” so I went with the duck.

Klukes had the body of a curvaceous woman as well as a fantastic head of hair. Her face was always in profile so you could see her incredibly long eyelash (I assume there were more) on the one bizarrely large eye you were able to see. (Remember, she was in profile consistently.) When I think about it, the one thing that truly set her apart from a human form was her beak. However, if a beak can be pouty, it was. As I recall, she had no neck. Being a fashion model, she was always in a fabulous outfit, and I would color those outfits joyfully. Her dress or skirt was long because little girls love long dresses. She had various hairdos as well. Without fail, there was a story running in my head, page after page, as I drew Klukes, and I loved her and those hours spent with her. One of my regrets in life is that I threw out all those old notepads full of Klukes. She does live in my memory, however, and so I have drawn her for you.

Ultimately, I do thank you for following and/or visiting my blog in the last year, and thank you especially for leaving comments and “likes”. Your readership has meant a great deal to me in what I know has been a challenging time for us all.

The Blanket Tent

I made a tent beside the couch

with my big brother, Nate,

and everything about our tent

was absolutely great.

We used some blankets from our rooms

and chairs to hold them up,

and crawled inside when it was done

with Sonny who’s our pup.

We asked our mom if we could sleep

together in our tent.

We were excited ‘bout the night —

I thought we’d be content.

We got our sleeping bags rolled out

and everything was right.

We got inside our sleeping bags,

and we began our night.

I said, “Tell me a story, please.”

Nate said, “This story’s true.”

He said, “Our house is haunted.”

I said, “I had no clue.”

“Our folks say it’s a secret

and you, I shouldn’t have told,”

said Nate, “but you’re my brother.”

I felt my blood run cold.

Nate told me all the details

before he went to sleep.

I listened to him breathing

and from our tent did creep.

I’ve never been so frightened,

and I was frightened bad,

and cause I couldn’t stop shaking,

I slept with Mom and Dad.

Nate had so take our tent down

and tell me that he lied.

He told me he was sorry,

so I was satisfied.

Nate has to do my chore list

along with all his work.

I figure that he’s learning

how not to be a jerk.

And cause I love my brother,

I’m sure no harm was meant,

and so I’m hoping Friday night

we get to build our tent.