A Correction

Never go into the home of a bear.

As do you know what? They don’t EVER share.

Yes, bears are all really revoltingly rude;

They don’t share their chairs, or their beds or their food.

And the thing that most gets me, that makes me quite mad,

Is their stuff is all rubbish! The quality’s BAD.

It’s mostly too hot and or too hard or too cold,

Too lumpy, too bumpy, too soft or too old.

In fact, it’s so trashy it all tends to break!

But then, if you make just a tiny mistake

And their stuff sort of rips with a snap! crack! smash!

And you land on your sore poorly bum with a crash,

The bears won’t say sorry, they won’t say ‘oh dear!’

They just give a glare and yell ‘GET OUT OF HERE!’

You try to explain that the fault is all theirs,

But they never once listen, those bad-mannered bears!

Instead they accuse you of trying to steal,

Like one bowl of porridge is such a big deal!

Bears never share, and they’re NEVER polite.

No doubt they’ll tell you that their version’s right,

But don’t you believe even ONE word they say.

I’m perfectly innocent really. OK?

 

 

 

 

Behind Bars

We don’t do much. Just sit in our hutch,

And think about quantum mechanics and such.

And when we get bored, as we do on occasions,

We ponder quite complex quadratic equations,

And talk of great art and of post-modern theory,

And how being a guinea pig is rather dreary

Just stuck in our hutch

And not doing much.

Hope and the Kitchen Sink

My cat always sits by the sink.

And she narrows her eyes and her tail starts to flicker.

She draws in her claws. She waits. And then quicker

Than blinking she pounces, with scimitar swipes

At each drip as it drops from the mouth of the pipe.

Then she curls up to wait. Does she secretly wish

That the tap was a stream that was teeming with fish?

Boggling

Have you seen a Boggle?

It is hard to track them down,

But they make you raise one eyebrow

And then give a little frown.

Yes, they make your brain all achey

Till you have to scratch your head,

And a person with a Boggle

Might say ‘WHAT was that you said?’

They are often found with Baffles

As they make a natural pair.

Though someone who’s got both of them

May simply stand and stare.

Yes, you’ll goggle with a boggle

With your brain a jiggle-joggle,

And you’ll giggle-snigger-snort

At all the crazy things you’ve thought.

But if you stop your thinking

And you give a little cough,

You can say ‘Ahem. Now Boggle,

I’ve had quite enough – BOG OFF!’

 

To-do

I am writing a to-do list

And it’s taking simply ages,

As I’m very very busy

So it runs to several pages.

There are chores galore and even more;

I’ve millions, billions, oodles.

(Although somehow my to-do list

Has an awful lot of doodles).

I’ve used highlighters and sticky notes

And pens of different sorts,

I’ve used markers in the margins

For my fresh ideas and thoughts.

But wait a sec! Is that the time?

How could it be? No way!

Writing this to-do list thing

Has taken all the day!

I’ve changed the fonts a million times;

It’s looking very pretty.

But now I can’t complete my tasks.

Oh bother. Such a pity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

January Briefing of the CTU* (* Christmas Tree Union)

Stand up! Stand tall!

It’s time to fight!

We Christmas trees

Must all unite!

They praise our looks,

They stand and sing,

They give us gifts

And bits of bling,

They give us stars

And jewels and gold,

But then they say

We’re much too old;

We’ve lost our looks,

We’re past our prime.

They claim (when it’s

Not Christmas time)

They have the right

To strip our sweets,

And simply chuck us

On the streets.

You Fir Tree! Pine Tree!

Norway Spruce!

Don’t stand for this

Most cruel abuse!

This moral outrage

Must be stopped!

We thus demand that

When we’re chopped

We never suffer

Such neglect.

We must be treated

With respect.

And if our cause

Is not addressed

We’ll march, campaign

Revolt, protest.

We want tinsel!

We want lights!

We want baubles!

Give us rights!

Treat us kindly

All the year.

Or else we’ll riot.

Is that clear?

Stand up! Stand tall!

It’s time to fight!

We Christmas trees

Must all unite!

 

 

 

Swords

My sword has no ‘S’.

It is made out of ink,

And its blade has the keenness

Of things that I think.

My sword has no ‘S’.

It’s as sharp as a knife,

But it also brings laughter

And love and new life.

My sword has no ‘S’

But that gives it more might.

My sword has the freedom

That’s needed to fight.

 

 

 

 

 

Mermaid Puzzle

[Written in about 10 minutes as a silly response to a Twitter conversation with authors Abi Elphinstone and Julia Lee]

Mermaids are so elegant,

With swishy swashy tails,

All shimmering and glimmering

With pretty silver scales.

Yes, mermaids are so beautiful;

They look like works of art.

There’s one thing though I’d love to know:

Oh, how do mermaids fart?

 

Do they have some special gills

That let them break their wind?

Perhaps the air comes out from where

They’re really quite thin-skinned?

Or are their tails a bit like legs

And sort of come apart?

I long to know the answer so;

Oh, how do mermaids fart?

 

Do they have some hidden bums

From where big bubbles blow?

Are there underwater caves

Where mermaid gases flow?

I’ve puzzled this for ages

And although I’m rather smart,

I don’t know what goes on below;

Oh, how do mermaids fart?

 

Morons

[To be chanted in a robotic monotone]

All the

day we

sit and

play, at

night we

cannot

sleep.

Just be-

cause we’ve

got these

toys that

go ‘Beep

Beep Beep

BEEP’.

They

rot our

brains, they

spoil our

eyes, we

don’t get

any

excer-

cise, but

we don’t

care; we

sit and

stare and

click things

here and

press things

there, and

never

ever

leave our

chair. We

make our

parents

weep.

And

all be-

cause we’ve

got these

toys that

go ‘Beep

Beep Beep

BEEP’.