Children’s Poetry and Other Things
Derek brought a yo-yo
and thought it would be great.
Doing lots of yo-yo tricks,
he felt sure was his fate.
But Derek’s brand new yo-yo
didn’t want to play
and wouldn’t roll back up the string —
there simply was no way!
Still, Derek tried to make it work
till finally he did learn
that nothing he could ever do
would make that thing return.
His yo-yo made him angry
since it would only hang,
and so he threw it in the trash
and bought a boomerang!
Sandy had a hula-hoop
and all she did each day
was stand around and hula-hoop,
her only form of play.
The trouble was the silly girl
went to the extreme.
She hula-hooped so very much,
she make her mother scream!
“SANDY, PUT THAT THING AWAY!
YOU NEED TO CLEAN YOUR ROOM!
GIVE ME THAT DARN HULA-HOOP
AND THEN JUST GRAB THE BROOM!”
But Sandy just ignored her mom
and hula-hooped some more,
so her father got involved
and yelled, “YOU HAVE A CHORE!”
But Sandy just ignored her dad
and hula-hooped with glee,
and Sandy acting like a brat
is what someone did see.
Mrs. Jones lived down the block
and knew her neighbours well,
but what her neighbours didn’t know
is she could cast a spell.
She was, in fact, a kindly witch
who thought that children should
just do what their parents said
in order to be good.
Her spell made Sandy’s hula-hoop
drop right to the ground,
and suddenly, that hula-hoop
was no longer round!
The hula-hoop was now a square
and was no longer fun,
and Sandy’s hula-hooping days
were very clearly done.
Yes, children need to do the chores
that their parents say,
and if they do, I’m certain that
they’ll also get to play.
My teacher is the strangest one
cause she says math is really fun.
She smiles when adding on the board
just like each number is adored.
In lots of ways, I think it’s sad
her sense of fun is just so bad.
Three plus three and eight plus eight
are no fun —I’d sooner skate.
I’d sooner play some basketball.
I’d sooner walk around a mall.
I’d sooner watch a TV show.
I’d sooner play outside in snow.
I’d sooner never have to add.
Subtraction makes me just feel bad.
Division is the worst thing yet,
and multiplying — I don’t get!
“To each his own,” my mother said,
but still math makes me scratch my head.
I’m sure most people think like me;
“Math’s no fun,” they would agree.
Possibly, my teacher’s not
as crazy as I’ve maybe thought.
About this, I suspect I’m right.
She’s said she bowls on Friday night.
Some things are just impossible
and make me want to cry
because I cannot do those things
no matter how I try.
For example, yesterday,
my arms I flapped and flapped
but could not lift up from the ground
like birds — so I felt trapped!
Then I thought I’d dig a den
and live just like a bear,
but Mom said, “Nope! Forget it!”
which I didn’t think was fair.
I told my mom that I was sad
bout things I couldn’t do,
and then she smiled and softly said,
“I’ve just the thing for you.”
She left the room and soon returned,
then handed me a list
of lots of possibilities
I wanted to resist.
I did not want to dust my room
nor brush our lazy cat.
I did not want to have a bath
nor phone my aunt to chat.
I did not want to help Mom weed
or even pick the peas.
I did not want to bath the dog
nor search for my lost keys.
What I have learned is don’t complain!
Relax and just stay calm,
cause you won’t like what’s possible,
according to your mom.
It’s February third today,
and in my den I plan to stay.
I’m scared to venture out my door!
My poor, old nerves can stand no more!
On the second, yesterday,
I thought I’d go outside and play,
so from my den I happily walked —
the scene before me left me shocked!
Fifty cameras, maybe more,
flashed as I walked out my door.
“He sees his shadow!” were the cries!
I just saw spots before my eyes.
Now spots are gone, the people too!
T’was awful what they put me through!
The folks round here are dumb as rocks,
cause I’m no groundhog — I’m a fox!
This poem was originally posted February 2021, and I have a feeling you’ll see it a year from now!
Teacher made us read a book
that I thought was a bore,
so reading every single page
was nothing but a chore.
The characters were really dumb.
In fact, there were three bears,
and a girl named Goldilocks
who sat in all their chairs.
She ate some of their porridge
and slept in Baby’s bed,
and when the bears discovered her,
I thought that she’d be dead.
But no — that girl escaped those bears
which made no sense to me,
cause how could one blonde little girl
outrun the bears — all three?
Lots of kids agreed with me
and said it couldn’t be done.
In fact, our class discussion
was really lots of fun.
Our teacher kept on asking us
to back up what we thought.
She said, “Give me your logic”,
and logic’s what she got.
We said that Goldilocks, in truth,
was sure a little brat.
Teacher said, “Then back it up.
Explain why you think that.”
And as we talked and gave our proof
for judgements that was had,
our teacher smiled and nodded
and just looked really glad.
I’d thought she’d be insulted
cause I didn’t like her book,
but that, for sure, was not the case,
judging by her look.
So now I love to read her books
and think of what I’ll say,
cause talking bout those books we read
almost feels like play.
My turtle died just yesterday,
which really made me cry.
I could not understand why God
would make my turtle die.
My mom told me poor Sammy
would be happier in Heaven,
and so we held a funeral
around the hour of seven.
Three kids arrived with flowers
and that sure did make me glad.
It all was so exciting
that I wasn’t quite so sad.
We placed Sam in a jewelry box,
surrounded by some cotton.
We sang a hymn and said that Sam
would never be forgotten.
We dug a hole six inches deep
and put the box inside,
replaced the dirt, and sang again,
then everybody cried.
Now today my folks are trying
to really cheer me up.
The time is right, I do believe,
to ask them for a pup.
This was first published in 2001, in my children’s poetry book, The New Toe: Poems To Tickle Your Funnybone
I wish that I could shop for food —
that really would be grand,
because I’d simply pass right by
the food that I can’t stand.
Carrots, broccoli, turnips, beets
would not come through our door,
and neither would those Brussel sprouts
I really do abhor!
White fish, blue fish, yucky cod,
again I’d never chew,
nor would I have to eat a meal
of smelly old beef stew.
Celery I’d never eat,
no, it would not be seen.
In fact, no food I’d ever buy
would be the colour green.
Instead my meals would be superb!
I’d serve the best food yet —
instead of salad — chocolate bars!
My meals you’d not forget.
Popsicles instead of milk,
potato chips galore!
Of course, ice cream would heap the plate,
and you could ask for more.
You bet I would serve soda pop
in the biggest cup,
and after this delicious meal,
Mom says we’d all throw up!
My mom says I’m a worry wart.
I worry through the days.
I worry bout the strangest things —
my mom says it’s a phase.
I worry that the dog next door
won’t like me anymore.
I worry that my hockey team
won’t ever make a score.
I worry that the frosted flakes
next morning won’t appear.
I worry that the picture on our TV
won’t be clear.
I worry that the snow won’t fall
or that the moon won’t glow.
I worry that the ice won’t melt
or that the trees won’t grow.
The item on my list of worries
at the very top,
is that my stupid worrying
is something I won’t stop!
My New Year’s Resolutions,
are right here on this list,
and judging by the number,
there’s nothing that I’ve missed.
I’ve said I’ll walk the dog each day
and pick up all his poo.
I’ve vowed I’ll get my homework done
and even study too.
I’ve promised I’ll no longer tease
my little brother, Jake.
I’ve stated I will shovel snow
and grass and leaves, I’ll rake.
I’ve said I’ll make my bed each day
and keep my bedroom neat,
and with that final promise,
my list is sure complete.
So now I sit and watch the clock;
my New Year’s list is done,
but acting like “an angel” means
that next year won’t be fun.
This was first posted December 31, 2020.
The Lonely Meatball 