Original poems for the young at heart
I’m only a poor little printer,
A poor little printer I am.
And what I’d love most is a small bit of toast,
To eat every time that I jam.
And possibly also some butter,
As jam without fat gets quite sticky.
If not, then I think that I’ll run out of ink,
Because I just love being tricky.
When I bought my bee in a second-hand shop
I couldn’t quite catch what it said.
But I knew it was grizzling and griping and grouching
And clutching its poor sore head.
It was tripping and slipping and rolling around,
Because what it was, you see,
Was a jumble mumble grumble stumble tumble bumble bee.
Blibber blabber, blah, blah, money, money, oh?
Jibber jabber, ha ha! chitter, chatter, so?
Yibber yabber, politics, prittle, prattle, oo?
Yap, yap, yak, yak – what a dullaballoo!
See this tail? A brush to write
My name upon the inky night.
C – a comfy, cosy, curl.
A – aloof, athletic, awe.
T – the table where I lie
And sleep all day with still-clenched claw.
The moon is blue tonight,
And up in the warm winter sky
A small herd of pigs is stretching its wings
And learning, at last, to fly.
Fish play ukuleles
From their homes high up in the trees.
And guns grow flowers that bloom for hours
On blue moon nights like these.
The Little Mermaid got some legs,
According to her wish,
Sadly, though, the spell went wrong;
Her head’s now like a a fish.
Miss, I did dress up, Miss,
Miss, this isn’t rude.
That king’s my favourite character!
What d’you mean, I’m nude?
Miss, I’m wearing clothes, Miss!
What, you still can’t see?
That only goes to show, Miss,
You’re stupid as can be!
In the owl-light of evening the air is humming;
The night, the night, the night is coming!
Everything still in the sun’s last spark,
The world lies in wait for the galloping dark.
Creatures creep out from their lairs underground.
Eyes blink open. Ears twitch around.
And the pitter and patter of scampering feet
Is in time with the rhyme of the oncoming beat,
As faster and faster the black draws in.
Nearer and nearer; it knows it will win.
It snuffs out the sun, and its head is held high
As it spread out its banner, across the whole sky.
And then comes the moon, conquering, clear.
The night, the night, the night is here.
Taking Words for a Stroll 