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 Winning Goal

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.

The Flu

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!

Public Speaking

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!

The New Toy

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.

Chicken Pox

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!


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.