Too Early

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.

In the Night Kitchen (a poem)

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,

One-two, one-two,

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.

Duck Chorus

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!

Viking Song

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.

 

Shark Attack

Still

Smooth

Ripple

Fin

Sniff

Snuff

Glare

Grin

Glide

Slide

Slip

Splash

Plunge

Lunge

Grab

Thrash

Turn

Churn

Crimson

Kill

Fin

Ripple

Smooth

Still

Unrequited Love

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.

 

The Science of Snacks

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.

Bison

Excuse me Mrs Mason, there’s a bison in your basin,

Which I want to wash my face in but the basin’s got no space in.

So give me some advice on how to move a great big bison

As a basin’s not a place in which to base a beast with lice on.

Could I just entice the bison with a little bit of spice on?

Or perhaps I’ll buy your bison – does the bison have a price on?

But really Mrs Mason, if you cannot clean your basin

Of a bison with its lice on then I think you’re in disgrace.

In.

Today I Tried To Write a Poem About Daffodils

A host of golden daffodils

Dancing in the gentle sun,

Spotting yet another poet,

Sprouted legs and did a run.

Pancake Poems

Daddy made a pancake,

He tossed it in the air,

And now I’ve got a very thin

Round cushion on my chair.

 

Mummy made a pancake,

She cooked it nice and flat,

But then she tossed it in the air

And now she’s got a hat.

 

My brother made a pancake,

It gave him quite a thrill.

He made it several years ago;

It’s on the ceiling still.

 

Then Granny made a pancake,

It was a tricky job,

But when she tossed it in the air

It landed in my gob.

 

So…

Pancakes, pancakes,

Have them like my Gran makes,

Stir them, whirr them, fry them, try them,

Hurry up, be quick!

Pancakes, pancakes,

Have them like my Gran makes,

Can’t be beaten – can be eaten!

Oops, I’m feeling sick.