Children’s Poetry and Other Things
Popcorn’s an exciting treat
and popping it is quite a feat.
Kernels in the popper go,
where heating them is rather slow.
But then –
KABOOM!
KABANG!
KAPOW!
I watch the kernels and think ”Wow!”
Their transformation is a sight
from hard and gold
to soft and white.
I then eat popcorn really fast
cause making more is such a blast!
I really should have studied
for this test today,
but what I did instead of that
was go outside and play.
I thought I’d play a short while,
and then I’d read my book,
and so I went down to the park
to have a little look.
The guys were playing baseball
and so I joined the game,
and then I hit a home run!
My home run is to blame!
That homer is the reason
my test I just forgot.
I really had been planning
to study quite a lot.
My home run was impressive,
and all the guys did say,
“That homer was a monster hit”,
so I just had to stay.
It was the greatest feeling
cause most guys struck right out.
I was the coolest guy last night —
there really was no doubt.
But now today I’m sweating
and really have no clue,
concerning photosynthesis
or what plant life can do.
I know my folks will lecture
when they see my grade,
and thinking of my home run now,
I’m still glad that I played!
Ashley is the strangest kid
that you have ever seen.
The reason is the girl’s obsession
with the colour green.
Her socks and shoes and all her clothes
are green as green can be.
When looking at her books and pens,
yes, green is all you see.
Her pillows, sheets, her bedspread too,
her rug, her desk, her blind,
they are the greenest greeny green
that you will ever find.
It makes me nervous all this green!
It worries me at night!
For I am Ashley’s little dog,
and so far, I’m still white.
This poem was first published in 2001 in The New Toe: Poems To Tickle Your Funnybone.
I really loved sweet Mary Lou
who sat beside me in grade two.
Her eyes were big and bright, bright green.
She always smiled — was never mean.
She never noticed me at all,
cause I was short and she was tall,
and so I thought I’d write a note.
I thought real hard and then I wrote.
I folded it and had to smile.
I looked at her across the aisle,
and threw the note right on her book.
She opened it and had a look.
She started laughing at the note,
at the message that I wrote,
and as she laughed, I played it cool,
cause after all, we were in school.
She couldn’t stop laughing for a while
and on my face, I wore a smile,
cause in that note to Mary Lou,
in great big letters, I wrote, “BOO!”
It really is a rainy day.
The sky is just a solid grey.
My coach has phoned to let us know
my baseball game is not a go.
I’m really sad and this is why —
I felt inside I’d catch a fly.
I was sure that, most of all,
each time at bat, I’d hit the ball.
This was to be my greatest game.
Would be the one to bring me fame!
Everyone would be my fan.
The guys would tell me, “You’re the man!”
But now the rain has ruined it all,
and so today I can’t play ball,
yet baseball glory I’ll soon earn
cause how to play it, I’ll soon learn!
Bruce was quite a mouthy mouse
who tried to tease the cat.
The other mice all said that Bruce
was just a little brat.
The cat, of course, agreed with them,
but he didn’t really care.
While Bruce called him some nasty names,
the cat would only stare.
He stared at Bruce and even smiled,
so Bruce did harder try
to anger that old pussycat —
yes, Bruce was quite the guy.
Eventually, Bruce had to stop
because his mom yelled, “Dinner”,
and cause the cat did not get mad,
his cool made him the winner.
But Bruce looked stupid as could be;
he looked just like a fool,
so if you run into a Bruce,
just smile and play it cool.
I’m trying hard to write a poem
but now my brain is numb.
You see, I’m having trouble
rhyming “neighbour’s cat” with “glum”.
“Cat” and “glum” just will not rhyme
which really makes me tense,
cause if I choose some other words,
my poem will make no sense.
Today we have to share our poems
and so I’m out of time,
yet if I make this poem make sense,
they’ll say, “It doesn’t rhyme!”
But if I now rhyme “cat” with “rat”
and then rhyme “glum” with “plum”,
the kids will say, “It makes no sense”,
and so they’ll think I’m dumb.
Words are really stubborn things
and have to get their way.
A poet’s life must sure be hard,
just fighting words all day.
Edward went to sleep one night
and he began to dream
he was a mighty dinosaur
that made folks run and scream!
Yes, being large and powerful
seemed nothing short of great,
but Edward was a tiny mouse
so he could not relate.
But then, one day, that tiny mouse,
much to his surprise,
walked into a room of kids
and caused loud screams and cries.
They jumped on desks, just freaking out,
and Edward freaked out too
and quickly scurried from the room —
what else could Edward do?
What Edward learned that fateful day
is power’s a surprise
cause it’s about what others think
and not about your size.
Charlie always mumbled,
which drove his mother crazy.
“Speak clearly,” she would yell.
“The way you talk is lazy!”
“Mumble,” he’d retort,
but who knows what he said,
and his mom would sigh
and simply shake her head.
At school, he would mumble
when answering Miss Moore,
who’d smile and nod and think,
her hearing must be poor.
Everyone was tired
of Charlie’s way of talking
and what made Charlie change
was everybody mocking.
Yes, everyone decided
to talk like Charlie did,
and Charlie soon discovered
he understood no kid.
He understood no person!
His mom did not make sense!
His father just confused him,
and Charlie soon got tense.
Then Charlie started yelling,
“Would everybody end
all the horrible mumbling!
You have to stop this trend!”
Charlie spoke so clearly,
he proved to all that heard,
he could no long justify
any mumbled word.
Now Charlie’s understood!
It’s clear what’s in his head,
but most of what dear Charlie says
would best be left unsaid!
I really think my dog is slow,
and now I’ll tell you how I know.
Spotty just won’t chase his ball —
with it, he won’t play at all.
And if, for him, I throw a stick,
he doesn’t seem to care a lick.
He only gives his tail a wag,
while “Chase it! Chase it!” I will nag.
To the park he will not go,
and so I think he must be slow.
I guess he’s stupid as a rock —
the only thing he does is talk!
The Lonely Meatball 