More Halloween Nonsense

One-Legged Jack

Are you bold, are you brave? Will you go to the grave

Of the man they called one-legged Jack,

Whose beard was feared and whose eyes always leered

As they glinted with fathomless black?

 

Will you stand near his stone when you hear a low moaning

That shatters the hideous night,

When the trees seem to freeze in the glacial breeze

And the moon hides its face out of fright?

 

And when you hear tapping and wrenching and rapping

And up bursts a fountain of earth,

Will you simply stand still, keeping calm and quite still?

Or leg it for all that you’re worth?

 

 

Ghoster

A ghost popped out of our toaster

And staring quite sternly it said

‘Don’t you know this is really a ghoster,

And these are the slots for the dead?’

We did try to offer it honey

And butter and marmite and all,

But the ghost said ‘Don’t try to be funny’

And simply walked straight through the wall.

 

 

 

 

 

Simple Things

A chair

A book

A fire

A rug

The wind

And rain

Outside

So snug

The Piffington Ghost

Excuse me, Lady Piffington, but have you seen my head?

Ever since they chopped it, it’s been hanging by a thread.

And with these dreadful draughts I have a tendency to cough,

And then it simply shakes a bit before it falls right off.

Oh sorry, Lady Piffington. Ah yes, the blood will stain.

But really being headless is a most annoying pain.

Oh no, my dear Piffington! Of course it doesn’t hurt!

But every time my head drops off the blood begins to spurt.

Ah yes, dear Lady Piffington, my bones do rattle round

And if you’re not too used to it, it is a spooky sound.

But may I interest you, my dear, in all my many moans?

I won a prize the other day for gruesome grisly groans.

And now, dear Lady Piffington, I really think that’s all.

And if you’ll please excuse me, then I’ll exit through this wall.

But my, you’re looking very pale! Oh deary me, you’ve died!

Now come, let’s go and hunt my head; it might have dropped outside

 

Spooky

Inside the spooky, spooky house the night was dark as death,

The clammy air clung everywhere; of breeze, there was no breath,

And in this house, this spooky house, where love and laughter slept,

There came a tread of silent dread as something crawled and crept.

 

What evil thing? What evil thing? What ghostly ghoulish summoning

Now staggered up the steely stairs to catch the children unawares?

What demon beast of dark and doom now drifted deep inside the room?

What filthy fiend, so fierce and foul, let rip that most horrific howl?

 

Inside the spooky, spooky room the beast ripped off its head

And there a spout of blood shot out, a fountain fast and red.

The beast’s green arms were long and lean; its eyes were green as well.

It held its head and softly said ‘Behold the heart of Hell’.

 

What evil thing? What evil thing? What ghostly ghoulish summoning

Now held the children in its claws, and opening wide its jagged jaws

Let rip a grisly gruesome groan, demanding with a maudlin moan

‘Now get me something nice to eat! Ha, ha, I scared you – TRICK OR TREAT!’

 

 

 

 

Treading On Something and Thinking You’ve Been Bitten By a Tiger

My leg! Oh leg! Oh leg! Oh leg!

My leg! Oh leg!  Oh leg! Oh!

Let go! Leggo! Leggo! Leggo!

But oh, it’s only Lego.

Diet

Eat less fat? Well, sure I know that!

And honestly Doc, I have tried.

But veg is much better with butter and batter

And salad’s much nicer deep fried.

 

Cut down on salt? That’s not my fault!

I don’t let the stuff past my lips!

But my hand does this thing that I don’t understand,

And in pops a whole bag of chips.

 

Eat much more fruit? I cannot refute

That it’s healthy; I know what you mean.

But I get five a day in my own special way,

As chocolate is surely a bean.

 

Sugar? I shudder to think of the stuff!

I never eat anything sweet!

But maybe I’ll risk it for just ten small biscuits

They are, after all, just a treat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Children, Morning

Have you seen the loo roll?

Have you seen my skirt?

Have you seen my toothbrush?

Have you seen my shirt?

Have you seen my homework,

My reading book or socks?

Have you seen my caterpillar?

Can’t you find its box?

Have you seen my teddy bear?

Have you seen the jam?

Have you seen my sandwiches,

The ones with cheese and ham?

Have you seen my underpants?

I wear them quite a lot.

Have you seen my sanity?

I think I’ve lost the plot.

 

 

 

Bonkers for Conkers

Go bonkers for conkers!

Bring them! Drill them!

Rub them! Shine them!

String them! KILL them!

Bish them and bosh them and cosh them and crash them!

Slam them and wham them and smithereen smash them!

Till all that is left is your enemy’s string.

Go bonkers for conkers, the conquering king!

Water (A poem for National Poetry Day 2013)

Each slurp, each sip,

Each slip through a lip,

Each gurgle, each glug,

Each whoosh past a plug,

Each splash, each splosh,

Each spin of the wash,

Each storm, each flood,

Each puddle and mud,

Each flower that grows

With rain or with hose,

Each suck of the root,

Each spurt of the shoot,

Each yacht, each canoe,

Each fish in the blue,

Each roar of the ocean,

Each wheel set in motion,

Each wind-driven drizzle

That pitters and patters.

Each drip.

Each drop.

Water.

It matters.