Super(market) Hero

I’m a supermarket hero;

I’m the champion of the aisle.

I can swerve round each curve,

And I do it in such style.

I put cauli in my trolley,

I find broccoli and brie,

Then I slalom to salami;

It’s the shopping trip Grand Prix.

I accelerate past celery

And zoom off to the rocket,

Then I grab a jar of honey,

Money rattling in my pocket.

So I hurtle to the burgers

And I whizz off to the biscuits,

But I want to go much faster,

So I think I’m going to risk it,

Then I’m zapping and I’m zipping

And I’m darting and I’m dashing

And I’m whooshing and I’m swooshing,

Then I skid – and oops, I’m crashing!

And a shelf of plums is plummeting,

A tower of tins goes tumbling,

And the sponge cakes all go plunging,

(All the customers are grumbling).

So the manager comes up to me,

And screams ‘What have you DONE!’

But I play it really cool and say,

‘So where’s the prize? I WON!’

 

 

Song of the Potato

I wish I could put on a teeny bikini

Or maybe a tie and a shirt.

I’d love to wear shorts and nice clothes of such sorts,

And some socks and some shoes and a skirt.

I dream of a hat! I’d look marvellous in that!

But instead I must wear what I hate, oh

I’ve only one outfit, and so I must flout it,

Because I’m a jacket potato.

 

I’ve got a strong feeling I’d look most appealing

If served (nicely curved) in the nude.

I’d be perfect as chips, I’d be dunked into dips,

And people would say ‘Such good food!’

But clothes would be fine, if they had nice design,

Yet instead I must wear what I hate, oh

I’ve only one get up (I feel rather het up)

Because I’m a jacket potato.

 

 

Mistaken Identity (or ‘when the email was wrongly designated as spam’

The email sat.

Like that.

Outbox.

Inbox.

Boxed in.

Back, forth, back,

Single track.

Sat.

Life flat.

Once a draft.

Never laughed, never smiled,

Merely whiled time away.

Older with each folder.

Then one day it bounced!

Pounced and sprang, sang:

‘I am Spam! Spam I am!’

Learned to leap, prance, dance in the ether!

Full of daring, not caring whether

It was read.

No longer dead.

Somersaulted, cybervaulted through wires,

New thoughts and desires

Coursing through its letters.

Throwing off fetters to announce:

I am Spam,

I bounce.

The Biscuit Beast

When Barbarous Biscuits come stomping,

When they sit on your plate and come near,

When Custardly Cookies come clomping,

Then sit up and tremble in fear.

Their fangs are made out of vicious meringues;

They have chocolate éclairs for their lips.

And what really shocks is they’re riddled with pox;

They’ve a rash made of white chocolate chips.

Their eyes are huge jammy dodgers,

Their legs and their arms, bourbon creams.

So give them a lick, or they’ll kill you – quick, quick!

And no-one will hear all your screams.

Yes, when Barbarous Biscuits come stomping,

There’s only one thing you can do:

Don’t waver! Don’t wait! Just eat the whole plate!

Or else you might find they’ll eat YOU.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Terrible Tellyfish

Beware, beware, the tellyfish,

Lurking in rooms, big and small.

Beware its stare, its glimmering glare,

The allure of its sweet siren call.

Beware its terrible tentacles,

That clamber and clutch and cling,

Look out for its grin that will suck you right in;

Beware the stealth of its sting.

Watch out for its slime that will gobble your time,

And fry half your brain with one look.

Beware, beware, the tellyfish,

And instead go and read a good book.

Ambitions of a Tree

Don’t turn me into a table;

I’d only get covered in crumbs.

Don’t turn me into a chair (so there!);

I’d only get covered in bums.

Don’t turn me into a floor, or a door,

Or a wardrobe or small wooden nook.

When I’ve finished my treedom I want to have freedom!

So please turn me into a book.

 

Mermaids

There’s a murmuration of mermaids in the sea tonight,

A shift-shimmer shadow of glimmering light,

Grass-green splash and moon-blue glisten,

Rainbowing waves. And shhh, now, listen –

That star-soft hum that silvers the sky,

Till the mermaids are lost in the sea’s slow sigh.

On a Matter

Let us sit and have a natter

On a most important matter:

Yes it’s onomato, onomato, onomatopoeia!

Let’s go fizzling, sizzling, popping,

Let’s go whizzing without stopping!

Yes, it’s onomato, onomato, onomatopoeia!

Let’s go bang and clang and clash!

Let’s go boom, ker-pow and smash!

Yes, it’s onomato, onomato, onomatopoeia!

Let’s go hissing, let’s go howling,

Let’s go bleating, tweeting, growling!

Yes, it’s onomato, onomato, onomatopoeia!

Let’s go stamping, let’s go thumping,

Let’s go rumbling, let’s go bumping!

Yes, it’s onomato, onomato, onomatopoeia!

Let’s go clicking, clacking, clapping!

Come along now, don’t start napping,

As I’ve got a little word that I will whisper in your ear.

Yes it’s onomato, onomato, onomato, onomato,

Onomato, onomato, onomatopoeia!