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.
March 14, 2014
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.
March 10, 2014
A host of golden daffodils
Dancing in the gentle sun,
Spotting yet another poet,
Sprouted legs and did a run.
March 4, 2014
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.
Have them like my Gran makes,
Stir them, whirr them, fry them, try them,
Hurry up, be quick!
Have them like my Gran makes,
Can’t be beaten – can be eaten!
Oops, I’m feeling sick.