April 19, 2014
Well how would you like it if YOU were killed
By slicing in half, and then were grilled,
First on the front, then on the back,
Left for too long till you turned slightly black,
And then (as you sniffed with your very last sob)
You were shoved down the back of some horrible gob?
Yes, of COURSE I’m cross! It isn’t much fun.
Signed, yours sincerely, your small toasted bun.
April 14, 2014
This one inspired by my youngest child, who says he only likes his hair washed on Fridays.
Don’t you dare
Wash my hair!
It’s not fair!
I don’t care
If it’s grotty
If it’s snotty
If it’s tangled up and knotty
If it’s grimy
If it’s slimy
If it’s greasy all the time-y
If it’s snaky
If it’s cakey
If it’s dandruffy and flakey
If it’s crazy
If it’s maze-y
If it’s filled with bolognaise-y
If it’s home to nesting birds
Or to elephants (whole herds)
Or it all looks quite absurd!
If you do
Use that goo
Which you seem to call shampoo
And you cover it with bubbles
Then I warn you – there’ll be TROUBLE!
Don’t you dare
Wash my hair
I don’t care
April 11, 2014
Dave’s navel’s a cave in the mound of his belly.
It’s gloomy, it’s roomy, it’s damp and it’s smelly.
There’s no greater crater – it’s five inches wide,
And a whole host of creatures is lurking inside;
There are bugs, there are beetles, and fungi and mould,
And crumbs from Dave’s lunch that are fifty days old,
There are flakes of stale cake, there are forests of fluff,
And great jumbly jungles of junky-gunk stuff,
And if all of that wasn’t quite simply foul,
Every so often it gives a great growl.
So I really do wonder if anyone brave’ll
Take even a peek in Dave’s big cavey navel.
March 31, 2014
This morning my feet walked off down the street
But my head just stayed in bed.
My legs went to school, and my toes in their shoes,
But my brain simply felt like a bit of a snooze,
And it gave a small yawn, as if to say
‘Thinking? Oh no! Forty winking today!’
Then it settled back down for a nice lengthy doze.
But that’s not unusual at all, I suppose,
As it’s really too early, as everyone knows.
Yes, my head just stayed in bed.
March 30, 2014
A bit of a departure for this website, in that this poem is a) serious, b) for grown-ups and c) not in rhyme. But it seemed an appropriate one for Mother’s Day (here in the UK).
Sometimes, at night, I dance.
Dishcloth in hand, I glide across the kitchen floor,
Serenading a saucepan
Flirting with a frying pan
Waltzing with a whisk.
In the bubbled air I twirl and prance.
And then I stop.
Outside the window it is dark, the only audience my reflection.
I return to the sink, and watch
As the music drains away.
March 28, 2014
Quick, quick, quick, join the quack, quack choir!
We’re quite a big quackaphony; the sound is simply dire.
We don’t tweet neatly, or thrill with our trills,
But we jive as we dive and we quiver all those quills.
So squeak with those beaks, beat the water with a wing,
Get your feathers all together and then lift your bills and sing.
We will take the lake by storm, and then set the world on fire,
So quick, quick, quick, join the quack, quack choir!
March 26, 2014
A tribute to the Vikings exhibition we saw today at the British Museum
The Vikings are striking! We’re not here for trading;
We’re raiding, invading your village!
We’ll stride through your fields with our helmets and shield
Then like brutes we’ll all plunder and pillage.
It may seem alarming, but really we’re charming;
Just look at our crafts – we’re artistic!
Although if a Viking is not to your liking
We can be a little sadistic.
March 21, 2014
We’ve only just met so you don’t love me yet,
But I’m sure that we’re going to get on.
We’ll spend ages in bed and then maybe we’ll wed
(I hope you won’t wish that I’m gone).
I’ll invade every cell and right there I will dwell,
Perhaps for the whole of this term.
So please say ‘I do’ to your suitor, the flu,
Signed, yours sincerely, your germ.
March 17, 2014
Personally I can’t stand cheese (yes, I know I’m weird) and especially not cheesy snacks, but today’s poem is for my good friends Clara Vulliamy, her daughter Martha, Polly Faber, and the rest of their cheese snack gang, who between them could probably win a Nobel prize in cheese snackery.
I’m testing which snacks are the cheesiest,
It really is most scientific,
And although it may not be the easiest,
This work is quite simply terrific.
It engages each neuron that’s up in my brain,
My studies will never be beaten!
Though sadly I do them again and again
Because somehow my tests all get eaten.