Poetry for Kids
Hello and welcome to a page of poetry written for younger readers. If you are a child, parent, teacher, or simply someone who enjoys children's poetry, I would really like to know what you think of these poems - any feedback would be very welcome. If you have any comments please get in touch via the contact page - use the 'contact' button on the main menu - and I will respond to all messages left.
TWINKLE TWINKLE
Twinkle twinkle little star
our teacher told us what you are
and now your magic has all gone
what are we s’posed to wish upon?
Up above the world so high
a lump of rock that’s cold and dry —
all burnt out — a long-dead spark
that twinkles on across the dark.
CHASING DRAGONS
First off, Jack caught a glimpse of tail —
curled underneath a chair
but when he got down on his knees
to look — it wasn’t there.
Then across the room he saw
two nervous coal-black eyes
glinting as they peered at him
Jack thought it might be wise
to try and coax it in a box —
avoid small snapping teeth —
piled toys and clothes upon his bed
and slowly crawled beneath
and there it sat — all hunched up small
cleaning its red scales —
a baby dragon like they sell
as souvenirs from Wales.
It blinked at Jack and snorted twice
puffed a tiny flame
made a kind of warning growl
and disappeared again.
Then up beside the ceiling light
it fluttered round and round
wings flapping like a dizzy moth
it spiralled back to ground
and lay in an exhausted heap
mewing like a kitten
so Jack was brave and picked it up
and prayed not to be bitten.
At that moment, right outside
there was a dreadful roaring
as overhead a dragon pack
came swooping, gliding, soaring
and searching for an infant son
who’d recently gone missing —
the air grew dark and overcast
and full of anxious hissing.
Jack opened up the window and
as soon as one flew near,
he shouted ‘Hey! He isn’t lost —
your baby’s over here!’
The mother dragon paused mid-flight
and turned her massive head
stared at Jack with tearful eyes
sniffed a bit and said
‘You really are so very kind
and all of us are grateful —
the thought we’d never find our son
was absolutely hateful!”
‘Well, here he is!’ Jack held him up
the mother dragon took him
licked him with her long green tongue
then none-too-gently shook him
and scolded him in angry tones
tucked him in her pocket
then giving Jack a toothy grin
she shot off like a rocket.
And so the story ended well
but Jack has one regret —
no one believes he almost had
a dragon for a pet.
MARTIN THE MARTIAN
Mum says my brother is a little monster
and I’ve often thought that in a certain light
he looks a bit peculiar and scary
so it seems there is a chance she could be right.
He’s not like other babies — pink and noisy
he barely cries at all — just sleeps and stares
his eyes like inky saucers, seldom blinking
while he chews the heads off countless teddy bears.
Mum says he’s only teething, so it’s natural
but I have seen the gleam deep in his eyes
he’s practising for when he gets much bigger
and is busting out his baby-gro disguise.
In a few weeks, I doubt he’ll fit his buggy —
already he has one foot on the floor
has spooked the dog and frightened off our moggie
the local cats don’t come round any more.
And yesterday I watched him have his breakfast
and noticed two bumps poking through his hair —
I’m guessing that they’re horns — a subtle warning
he’s different and we should all beware.
I used to ask my mum where babies came from
but brother Martin’s given me a clue —
he’s from another planet — just mail order
and you can have a little monster, too!
BILLIE'S PETS
School 'Bring Your Pets' day recently gave cause for much concern
Some kids took hamsters, mice and snakes, our Billie just took germs
Which soon escaped, for no one saw the way they crept and crawled
On crayons and on pencils, along widowsills and walls...
At break, nobody had a clue how sneakily they slid
In lunchboxes and lingered there beneath each plastic lid
Spread round from grubby hand to hand, those bad bugs ran amok
Until a teacher, white as chalk, cried 'Quick - fetch Mrs. Mop!'
The Supercleaner flew in with her trusty bleach spray cocked
Zapped all around the classroom and had soon wiped out the lot
Then reminded all quite firmly, in hope no one forgets
Bacteria are nasty things and never make good pets!
FINISHING SCHOOL
Oh, you must be the new girl —
I’d welcome you but, hey!
I’m betting you won’t stick around —
the smart ones get away.
The teachers are all vampires
and Matron’s a right ghoul
so none of them are human
and lessons here are cruel.
The janitor’s a zombie —
he’s got this graveyard smell
doesn’t speak but stares a lot
he’s kind of slow as well.
It’s strictly orphans only —
we don’t have Open Day
there is no board of governors
no ‘friends’ or PTA.
The dormitories are dungeons —
they lock us in at night
the staff room’s like a blood bank
if rumour has it right.
But you look strong and healthy
with roses in your cheeks
if you can outrun Matron
you may survive for weeks.
Life here is kind of draining
if you know what I mean
the timetable’s unusual
and most of us aren’t keen
to learn about dissection
and ritual sacrifice —
for cutting up your classmates
just doesn’s seem quite nice!
And cookery is gruesome —
take stake and kidney pud —
the donor’s dead unhappy
and the stake’s a stick of wood!
Well, I guess you get the picture —
the school’s under a curse
for the site was once a plague pit
so the ghosts had got here first
and they sit around like squatters
with their crazy hollow eyes
so we put up with their wailing
and repeated dying sighs.
It all takes some getting used to —
just be sure to keep your head
and avoid all close encounters
with the resident undead.
You’re looking rather nervous
and maybe you suspect
what ‘finishing’ is all about —
we get it in the neck!
The evening sun is going down —
there goes the dinner bell —
who’s on the menu, Heaven knows —
so best you run like Hell!
SHADOW FOLK
Can I ask a question, Miss? —
I need to get this right —
Where do shadows go to when
you switch off the light?
Do they hide in cupboards
or do they skulk instead —
slip as quick as anything
beneath the chest or bed?
Maybe they freeze and stay where
they were when there was light —
perhaps they can’t move on their own
and have to wait all night
‘til someone wakes, gets out of bed
and turns the light back on —
for it would seem peculiar
to find they’d up and gone.
Or, do they rush back suddenly —
too quick for us to spot
they’ve been off doing other things —
some other life they’ve got.
I sometimes think I hear them run
(or maybe it’s a mouse)
for something makes the floorboards creak
when darkness fills the house.
And sometimes, when the moonlight
shines through the curtain’s chink
I catch a grey shape moving —
dissolving in a blink.
Yes, I know I could be dreaming
but my question’s really this —
have you seen the shadow folk ? —
So, what’s the answer, Miss?
CUCKOO
I’m not a bit like Mummy
or Daddy (can’t they guess?)
but growing up quite different —
I’m a cuckoo in their nest.
And I’m nothing like my brothers —
I’m such a greedy brat
I gobble all their dinner
so they starve while I get fat.
It’s just my basic nature —
I feel hungry all the time
and so I push and shove them out —
claim every scrap as mine.
I know that I’m adopted —
beneath my downy vest
I’m not a proper robin
but a cuckoo in their nest.
IN THE DARK
Mum! There’s something near my bed —
I’m sure I heard it breathing.
Mum! I think I felt it move —
I know I wasn’t dreaming.
Mum! There is a funny smell —
like something old and rotten.
Mum! You said you’d tuck me in —
I guess you’ve just forgotten.
Mum! I think I saw its tail —
I’m getting really frightened.
Mum! Could you just come and see
and put the landing light on?
Mum! My throat is really sore —
I need some water please.
Mum! My rash is coming back
and I’ve got itchy knees.
Mum! The window’s rattling now —
the curtain’s started twitching.
Mum! There’s burglars breaking in —
that’s why I’m only whispering.
Mum! I’ve pulled the covers up
and made myself real tiny.
Mum! I’m hardly breathing now
I’m so afraid they’ll find me.
Mum, is that you? I’m shivering —
so tired I can’t stop yawning.
Oh Mum! Your hands are freezing cold.
How long is it ’til morning?
PICNIC GUIDE
If you go down to the woods today
you’d better not go alone
but take your mother, your older brother
remember your mobile phone
for Jeremy Cole went on his own
and met a bear who ate him whole
and all his clothes except the sole
of one of his new school shoes.
So, if you go down to the woods today
take all of your friends along —
when that bear comes out, scream loud and shout
that eating people is wrong!
Most bears who picnic in the wood
take honey sandwiches, sticky but good
and know all boys are full of bones — too chewy!
Beware the bear who ate Jeremy —
he’s hungry still and wants his tea —
the boy was small so there’s lots more room
in his great big hairy tum.
If you must go down to the woods today
take somebody else along —
maybe your sister — he couldn’t miss her—
a bear’s sense of smell is strong!
He’ll think she’s good enough to eat —
for girls are tender and taste sweet
he’ll never guess he’s in for a big surprise!
MOON FACES
Is there a man in the moon? —
I’ve looked and tried to find
a face — an eye, a nose or chin
of any human kind.
The moon’s so far away
it’s hard to recognize
any person peering through
miles and miles of skies
his pumpkin head death-pale
and full of yellow light
floating up in space above
a blank face in the night
riding on the wind
skimming tree and roof
curious to see the world
but silent and aloof...
On clear nights I have searched
the shadows on his skin
while he just stares on back at me
coldly wondering.
HERE LIES...
Here lies the body of Mildred Butts
who died from fatal paper cuts.
She never spoke, relied on notes —
the more replied, the more she wrote.
At last, to all her friends she sent
news from everywhere she went.
She’d heaps of envelopes to lick
with glue so foul it made her sick
but worse, the edges cut her tongue
and blood and ink began to run
and smudged her lines so no one read
her final words — and now she’s dead.
HOMELESS
There’s an old man in the park, Mum
he watches while we play
he’s still there after dark, Mum
he’s never far away.
He’s lonely, I can tell, Mum
and it really bothers me
I don’t think he is well, Mum
he’s thin as thin can be.
They say he is a tramp, Mum
with nowhere else to go
and the days are cold and damp, Mum
so somebody should know.
He’ll catch his death out there, Mum
and Christmas will be soon
he’s nothing warm to wear, Mum
could he stay in our spare room?
I guess the answer’s no, Mum
I’d hoped you wouldn’t mind
the weather forecast’s snow, Mum
so couldn’t you be kind —
and let him have the shed, Mum?
Or I’m afraid he’ll freeze
I’d help him make a bed, Mum
so think about it — please!
Is that too much to ask, Mum?
So what is it you fear?
Why can’t I take a flask, Mum?
Why shouldn’t I get near?
Well, I don’t understand, Mum
the world is so unfair
he’s just a homeless man, Mum
and somebody should care.
RECIPE FOR INSECT STEW
Earwig eyebrows
spiders’ ears
greenfly elbows
woodlouse tears
fresh stings from bees
stag beetle legs
grasshopper knees
and glow worm eggs
chopped millipede
dried ladybugs
some peppered fleas
the slime of slugs
mosquitos make
a crunchy broth
just add a shake
of midge and moth
pickled weevils
give it ‘zing’ —
a really evil
flavouring
let it fester
stir the pot
serve with ants’nest
on the top.
CREATIVITY
In Art Class:
I don’t want to draw a bowl of fruit
a flower or a fairy —
I want to paint an alien
all green and hugely hairy
with seven eyes — four pink, three black
six arms like metal flippers
a dozen legs in leather socks
his toes in Martian slippers.
In English Class:
I don’t want to write a poem, Miss
I’d rather write a story
about a vampire in the woods
all monsterful and gory —
how he could turn into a bat
with an awesome set of choppers
until a slayer came along
and staked him good and proper.
In Geography Class:
I don’t want to learn about Brazil
Australia or France
what crops are grown in India
or how the Turkish dance
I want to draw another map
of somewhere else instead —
a really wild exciting place
I pictured in my head.
In Drama Class:
I don’t want to stand here and pretend
that I’m some kind of tree
I told my teacher that I can’t —
she shook her head at me
and later, in my school report
revealed her irritation —
“Sam is capable but slow
and lacks imagination.”
BARNEY AND MISTER SCRATCHIT
My brother Barney bought a mouse
and named it Mister Scratchit,
the mouse escaped — got clean away
and nobody could catch it.
The rodent rampaged through the house,
it nibbled, gnawed and worried
holes in almost everything —
it shredded, chewed and scurried
from room to room and left a trail
of damage and destruction
until our dad decided he’d
invest in pest reduction.
Not Rentakill but Dialadope —
the bait was cheddar, nobbled
so mouse would snack then fall asleep
once the first chunk was gobbled.
But Mister Scratchit sniffed the cheese,
suspicious and unsure,
then flicked his tail and darted off
to go and live next door.
Now Barney has another pet —
a goldfish known as Bubble —
who’s not quite so much fun as mouse
but has been far less trouble.
ZACHARIAH
My name is Zak —
a witch’s cat —
I’m lean and mean and shifty
I’m fond of mice
they’re small but nice
I wish they weren’t so nifty.
I’ve sampled toad
squashed on the road
I’ve nibbled newts and lizards
and once a bat —
I hated that —
it stuck right in my gizzard.
My witch believes
all felines need
a truly balanced diet —
she boils up slugs
assorted bugs
and thinks I ought to try it.
But would you
eat insect stew ?
I never touch her cooking
I tip the lot
back in the pot
the instant she’s not looking.
That’s why I’m thin —
all bones and skin —
my purr a hollow rumble
I hunt all night
but mice take fright —
they hear my stomach grumble.
I sometimes wish
for bowls of fish —
I dream of ratatouille
with juicy rat
all plump and black
their tails all long and chewy!
Frustrating how
my loud miaow
when I jump up beside her
provokes a grin —
she’ll find a tin
and toss me a fresh spider!
I really fear
I’ll disappear —
completely fade away
unless she gets
some tasty pets
and puts them in my way!
I’d love a mole —
I’d eat him whole —
a hamster or canary —
just anything
with goodness in —
all tender, warm and hairy.
She calls me Zak
a nickname that
is easier for yelling
the witch can’t cook
or read a book —
she’s terrible at spelling.
I’m Zachariah —
brain on fire
from hunger, and I’m growling
’cos I just heard
a little bird...
excuse me, I’m off prowling!
BIG BOYS
I don’t want to play with the big boys any more —
I’m bashed about — my hands and knees are sore
my t-shirt’s torn and if that’s not enough
they don’t play fair — they’re really mean and rough.
They pick on me just because I’m young
and call me names — it’s really not much fun
because they kick and shove me when they find
I’ve got the ball — they’re stupid and unkind.
Okay, I’m short and skinny but so what?
I’m quicker than the other kids they’ve got —
and given half a chance I’d show them all
the way to tackle, pass and aim that ball.
But they won’t listen — typical of boys
who won’t let other people share their toys
they know it all — they think they own the world
and what could I know? — I am just a girl!
WITCH-SILVER
A stray cat came to my front door
miaowing — so I let her in
she left wet footprints on my floor
then sat and washed from tail to chin.
Her eyes were green, her tongue was pink
her coat was thick and soft like silk —
the same all over — black as ink
I poured her a small dish of milk.
She chose a cushion for her bed
and went to sleep beside the fire
I talked to her and stroked her head
and told her all my heart’s desire.
Next morning, early, as dawn broke
someone knocked upon my door —
a figure bent beneath a cloak
a voice I’d dreamed the night before
who called the cat by some strange name
and puss ran out to greet the crone
then they both turned, their look the same
next moment I was on my own...
I’d pondered on it all that week
but told no one, when a grey bird
with something hanging from its beak
flew through my window and I heard
the witch’s voice purr in my ear
“these seven silver coins can buy
those secret things your heart holds dear...”
her breath a ragged, haunting sigh.
I hid the pouch of silver coins
safe out of sight, without delay —
stashed them where the cross beam joins
the bird croaked thrice and flapped away.
Dark magic seeped — bewitched my house
my mind grew weak with dread that soon
the witch would come — play cat and mouse —
but most I feared the next full moon.
When it was due I locked the door
shut fast the windows streaming rain
I sprinkled herbs across the floor
the wind died down, blew hard again...
I heard a mew, I heard a laugh
the coins fell from their hiding place —
a sudden bang, an icy draft
and at the window pressed a face.
The hag stared in, the coins had rolled
around my feet — I grabbed them up
in panic — for my blood ran cold —
and hurled them out as midnight struck.
There was a screech — a howl of pain
a blinding flash of purple light
the witch rose with her clothes aflame
I trembled and felt sick with fright.
She hurtled, burning through the air
her broomstick like a comet’s trail
growing fainter as I stared
an echo lingered of her wail.
And where the coins had struck the soil
seven silver serpents sprang —
glittering, each scaly coil
sharp as steel, each curving fang.
They reared and hissed and spat their hate
then out of nowhere courage came
so I attacked them, didn’t wait
but ended that nightmarish game
with neon swords of light that flashed
and thunder roaring overhead
the serpents lunged, the storm-blades slashed
until all seven snakes lay dead.
As I watched, their skins grew dull —
withered as the flesh decayed
then their bones, and last each skull
crumbled, melted clean away...
The spell was broken, furthermore
since that strange night I never let
an unknown cat inside my door
in case it is some witch’s pet.
It was a trick — I should have known
that kindness is its own reward
nor taken silver from that crone
for freely-given bed and board.
NO ADDITIVES
My mum’s a witch, I’m sure she is —
I know it from her cooking —
she adds bizarre ingredients
when no one else is looking.
Every mealtime’s a surprise —
we’re not sure what we’re eating —
I bet her steak and kidney pies
have more than normal meat in.
I thought I saw a bat wing once —
a small grey web of gristle —
it really put me off my tea
I also found a bristle —
a springy hair all thick and long
floating in my porridge
and it was black and we’re all blonde
so what that proves is horrid.
One day Mum said ‘just for a change
we’ll have a finger buffet’ —
that sounded way too weird and strange
I sneaked off to the café.
But on the menu, plain as plain
it said Toad-in-the-Hole
and I thought here we go again
and ordered a cheese roll.
Mum wants to try Hungarian
(that goulash stuff is lumpy)
so I’ve gone vegetarian
and even Dad’s turned grumpy.
She thinks it’s just a passing fad —
my fruit and salad diet —
but its the best defence I have
and other kids should try it
if they suspect their mum’s like mine —
too fond of kitchen magic —
try take-aways — phone Pizza line —
or dinner could turn tragic!
PET SHOP
How much is that spider in the window —
the one with the web full of flies?
How much is that spider in the window?
I do like its eight beady eyes.
I don’t want a gerbil or a hamster
or a budgie all feathered and green.
I don’t want a cute fluffy bunny
but a spider all hairy and mean.
So how much is that spider in the window?
It must be the biggest I’ve seen.
I just want that spider in the window
to scare people at Halloween.
PARTY TRICK
On Barney Summer’s birthday
he invited all his mates
but Barney hasn’t many friends —
just me and Robbie Bates
and Robbie’s sister Sarah
who took her cousin Joan
plus the boy who lives next door
who didn’t come alone
but brought along his favourite pet —
a lizard called Amanda
which magically had learned to talk
though few could understand her.
So Barney, Robbie Bates and me,
Joan, Sarah and Amanda
sat and had some birthday cake
on Barney’s back verandah
while James, the boy who lives next door
drew smoke rings with the candles
then we all passed the lizard round
and stroked her scaly handles.
Amanda blinked and gazed at us
she flicked her purple tongue
and concentrated all the while
on cleaning up the crumbs
then in a croaky voice she said
‘shall we play in the garden?’
I was dumbstruck, Robbie gasped
and Sarah answered ‘Pardon?’
Barney almost choked himself
and Joan went white as chalk
James looked smug and quietly said
‘I told you lizards talk!’
For no one saw his lips move
so the clever trick we missed —
he’s either a real wizard
or a great ventriloquist.
CHOCOLATES
Our great-granddad has a sweet tooth —
he has to have his chocs —
he hides them in the greenhouse
and scoffs them by the box.
Mum says he shouldn’t have them —
he’ll put on too much weight —
but great-granddad doesn’t listen
and says it’s far too late
to worry about diets
at his age — so why stop?
He taps his nose and whispers
and sends me down the shop.
We have this understanding
and it works perfectly —
I never spill the beans on him —
he never tells on me.
I sit and share his chocolates
most afternoons at four
he potters round his greenhouse
remembering the war
I’m the only one he talks to
I think he likes me best
for I’m allowed the orange creams —
great-granddad eats the rest.
GONE MISSING
Charlie’s not at school today
it feels strange and I miss him
although he’s not my boyfriend now
since I saw Alice kiss him.
For something happened yesterday
while playing in the park
and Charlie stayed out way too late —
’til it was nearly dark
and all the other kids had gone —
they left him on the swings
and we all know the park at night
is full of creepy things.
At first his mum and dad got cross
and then they called the police
who searched the park and found one shoe
and Charlie’s bright red fleece.
And now it’s in the newspapers
and on the tele live —
Charlie Miller’s not been seen
since yesterday at five.
No one knows for sure, of course
but some of us are guessing
what could have happened to our friend
’cos Charlie never listened
to warnings that he shouldn’t trust
or even speak to strangers —
they could be aliens or worse
and that’s the biggest danger.
I think a spaceship picked him up
for it seems really weird
one minute he was there and then
he went and disappeared.
We all hope soon they’ll bring him home —
back to his family
then he can tell us where he’s been
and solve the mystery.
MY POEM
I have a poem in me
and it’s trying to break out —
sometimes I feel it wriggle —
it moves and rolls about.
It pokes me and provokes me,
it mutters and it sighs,
it scratches with impatient feet
and makes appealing cries.
But when I picked my pencil up
quite ready to begin —
offered it a clean white page,
gave it an opening —
it got all shy and wouldn’t come,
it scuttled back inside —
I couldn’t pull the poem out
however hard I tried!
So I didn’t do my homework —
too bad, my teacher said,
that she couldn’t read my poem
when it’s still inside my head!
TWINKLE TWINKLE
Twinkle twinkle little star
our teacher told us what you are
and now your magic has all gone
what are we s’posed to wish upon?
Up above the world so high
a lump of rock that’s cold and dry —
all burnt out — a long-dead spark
that twinkles on across the dark.
CHASING DRAGONS
First off, Jack caught a glimpse of tail —
curled underneath a chair
but when he got down on his knees
to look — it wasn’t there.
Then across the room he saw
two nervous coal-black eyes
glinting as they peered at him
Jack thought it might be wise
to try and coax it in a box —
avoid small snapping teeth —
piled toys and clothes upon his bed
and slowly crawled beneath
and there it sat — all hunched up small
cleaning its red scales —
a baby dragon like they sell
as souvenirs from Wales.
It blinked at Jack and snorted twice
puffed a tiny flame
made a kind of warning growl
and disappeared again.
Then up beside the ceiling light
it fluttered round and round
wings flapping like a dizzy moth
it spiralled back to ground
and lay in an exhausted heap
mewing like a kitten
so Jack was brave and picked it up
and prayed not to be bitten.
At that moment, right outside
there was a dreadful roaring
as overhead a dragon pack
came swooping, gliding, soaring
and searching for an infant son
who’d recently gone missing —
the air grew dark and overcast
and full of anxious hissing.
Jack opened up the window and
as soon as one flew near,
he shouted ‘Hey! He isn’t lost —
your baby’s over here!’
The mother dragon paused mid-flight
and turned her massive head
stared at Jack with tearful eyes
sniffed a bit and said
‘You really are so very kind
and all of us are grateful —
the thought we’d never find our son
was absolutely hateful!”
‘Well, here he is!’ Jack held him up
the mother dragon took him
licked him with her long green tongue
then none-too-gently shook him
and scolded him in angry tones
tucked him in her pocket
then giving Jack a toothy grin
she shot off like a rocket.
And so the story ended well
but Jack has one regret —
no one believes he almost had
a dragon for a pet.
MARTIN THE MARTIAN
Mum says my brother is a little monster
and I’ve often thought that in a certain light
he looks a bit peculiar and scary
so it seems there is a chance she could be right.
He’s not like other babies — pink and noisy
he barely cries at all — just sleeps and stares
his eyes like inky saucers, seldom blinking
while he chews the heads off countless teddy bears.
Mum says he’s only teething, so it’s natural
but I have seen the gleam deep in his eyes
he’s practising for when he gets much bigger
and is busting out his baby-gro disguise.
In a few weeks, I doubt he’ll fit his buggy —
already he has one foot on the floor
has spooked the dog and frightened off our moggie
the local cats don’t come round any more.
And yesterday I watched him have his breakfast
and noticed two bumps poking through his hair —
I’m guessing that they’re horns — a subtle warning
he’s different and we should all beware.
I used to ask my mum where babies came from
but brother Martin’s given me a clue —
he’s from another planet — just mail order
and you can have a little monster, too!
BILLIE'S PETS
School 'Bring Your Pets' day recently gave cause for much concern
Some kids took hamsters, mice and snakes, our Billie just took germs
Which soon escaped, for no one saw the way they crept and crawled
On crayons and on pencils, along widowsills and walls...
At break, nobody had a clue how sneakily they slid
In lunchboxes and lingered there beneath each plastic lid
Spread round from grubby hand to hand, those bad bugs ran amok
Until a teacher, white as chalk, cried 'Quick - fetch Mrs. Mop!'
The Supercleaner flew in with her trusty bleach spray cocked
Zapped all around the classroom and had soon wiped out the lot
Then reminded all quite firmly, in hope no one forgets
Bacteria are nasty things and never make good pets!
FINISHING SCHOOL
Oh, you must be the new girl —
I’d welcome you but, hey!
I’m betting you won’t stick around —
the smart ones get away.
The teachers are all vampires
and Matron’s a right ghoul
so none of them are human
and lessons here are cruel.
The janitor’s a zombie —
he’s got this graveyard smell
doesn’t speak but stares a lot
he’s kind of slow as well.
It’s strictly orphans only —
we don’t have Open Day
there is no board of governors
no ‘friends’ or PTA.
The dormitories are dungeons —
they lock us in at night
the staff room’s like a blood bank
if rumour has it right.
But you look strong and healthy
with roses in your cheeks
if you can outrun Matron
you may survive for weeks.
Life here is kind of draining
if you know what I mean
the timetable’s unusual
and most of us aren’t keen
to learn about dissection
and ritual sacrifice —
for cutting up your classmates
just doesn’s seem quite nice!
And cookery is gruesome —
take stake and kidney pud —
the donor’s dead unhappy
and the stake’s a stick of wood!
Well, I guess you get the picture —
the school’s under a curse
for the site was once a plague pit
so the ghosts had got here first
and they sit around like squatters
with their crazy hollow eyes
so we put up with their wailing
and repeated dying sighs.
It all takes some getting used to —
just be sure to keep your head
and avoid all close encounters
with the resident undead.
You’re looking rather nervous
and maybe you suspect
what ‘finishing’ is all about —
we get it in the neck!
The evening sun is going down —
there goes the dinner bell —
who’s on the menu, Heaven knows —
so best you run like Hell!
SHADOW FOLK
Can I ask a question, Miss? —
I need to get this right —
Where do shadows go to when
you switch off the light?
Do they hide in cupboards
or do they skulk instead —
slip as quick as anything
beneath the chest or bed?
Maybe they freeze and stay where
they were when there was light —
perhaps they can’t move on their own
and have to wait all night
‘til someone wakes, gets out of bed
and turns the light back on —
for it would seem peculiar
to find they’d up and gone.
Or, do they rush back suddenly —
too quick for us to spot
they’ve been off doing other things —
some other life they’ve got.
I sometimes think I hear them run
(or maybe it’s a mouse)
for something makes the floorboards creak
when darkness fills the house.
And sometimes, when the moonlight
shines through the curtain’s chink
I catch a grey shape moving —
dissolving in a blink.
Yes, I know I could be dreaming
but my question’s really this —
have you seen the shadow folk ? —
So, what’s the answer, Miss?
CUCKOO
I’m not a bit like Mummy
or Daddy (can’t they guess?)
but growing up quite different —
I’m a cuckoo in their nest.
And I’m nothing like my brothers —
I’m such a greedy brat
I gobble all their dinner
so they starve while I get fat.
It’s just my basic nature —
I feel hungry all the time
and so I push and shove them out —
claim every scrap as mine.
I know that I’m adopted —
beneath my downy vest
I’m not a proper robin
but a cuckoo in their nest.
IN THE DARK
Mum! There’s something near my bed —
I’m sure I heard it breathing.
Mum! I think I felt it move —
I know I wasn’t dreaming.
Mum! There is a funny smell —
like something old and rotten.
Mum! You said you’d tuck me in —
I guess you’ve just forgotten.
Mum! I think I saw its tail —
I’m getting really frightened.
Mum! Could you just come and see
and put the landing light on?
Mum! My throat is really sore —
I need some water please.
Mum! My rash is coming back
and I’ve got itchy knees.
Mum! The window’s rattling now —
the curtain’s started twitching.
Mum! There’s burglars breaking in —
that’s why I’m only whispering.
Mum! I’ve pulled the covers up
and made myself real tiny.
Mum! I’m hardly breathing now
I’m so afraid they’ll find me.
Mum, is that you? I’m shivering —
so tired I can’t stop yawning.
Oh Mum! Your hands are freezing cold.
How long is it ’til morning?
PICNIC GUIDE
If you go down to the woods today
you’d better not go alone
but take your mother, your older brother
remember your mobile phone
for Jeremy Cole went on his own
and met a bear who ate him whole
and all his clothes except the sole
of one of his new school shoes.
So, if you go down to the woods today
take all of your friends along —
when that bear comes out, scream loud and shout
that eating people is wrong!
Most bears who picnic in the wood
take honey sandwiches, sticky but good
and know all boys are full of bones — too chewy!
Beware the bear who ate Jeremy —
he’s hungry still and wants his tea —
the boy was small so there’s lots more room
in his great big hairy tum.
If you must go down to the woods today
take somebody else along —
maybe your sister — he couldn’t miss her—
a bear’s sense of smell is strong!
He’ll think she’s good enough to eat —
for girls are tender and taste sweet
he’ll never guess he’s in for a big surprise!
MOON FACES
Is there a man in the moon? —
I’ve looked and tried to find
a face — an eye, a nose or chin
of any human kind.
The moon’s so far away
it’s hard to recognize
any person peering through
miles and miles of skies
his pumpkin head death-pale
and full of yellow light
floating up in space above
a blank face in the night
riding on the wind
skimming tree and roof
curious to see the world
but silent and aloof...
On clear nights I have searched
the shadows on his skin
while he just stares on back at me
coldly wondering.
HERE LIES...
Here lies the body of Mildred Butts
who died from fatal paper cuts.
She never spoke, relied on notes —
the more replied, the more she wrote.
At last, to all her friends she sent
news from everywhere she went.
She’d heaps of envelopes to lick
with glue so foul it made her sick
but worse, the edges cut her tongue
and blood and ink began to run
and smudged her lines so no one read
her final words — and now she’s dead.
HOMELESS
There’s an old man in the park, Mum
he watches while we play
he’s still there after dark, Mum
he’s never far away.
He’s lonely, I can tell, Mum
and it really bothers me
I don’t think he is well, Mum
he’s thin as thin can be.
They say he is a tramp, Mum
with nowhere else to go
and the days are cold and damp, Mum
so somebody should know.
He’ll catch his death out there, Mum
and Christmas will be soon
he’s nothing warm to wear, Mum
could he stay in our spare room?
I guess the answer’s no, Mum
I’d hoped you wouldn’t mind
the weather forecast’s snow, Mum
so couldn’t you be kind —
and let him have the shed, Mum?
Or I’m afraid he’ll freeze
I’d help him make a bed, Mum
so think about it — please!
Is that too much to ask, Mum?
So what is it you fear?
Why can’t I take a flask, Mum?
Why shouldn’t I get near?
Well, I don’t understand, Mum
the world is so unfair
he’s just a homeless man, Mum
and somebody should care.
RECIPE FOR INSECT STEW
Earwig eyebrows
spiders’ ears
greenfly elbows
woodlouse tears
fresh stings from bees
stag beetle legs
grasshopper knees
and glow worm eggs
chopped millipede
dried ladybugs
some peppered fleas
the slime of slugs
mosquitos make
a crunchy broth
just add a shake
of midge and moth
pickled weevils
give it ‘zing’ —
a really evil
flavouring
let it fester
stir the pot
serve with ants’nest
on the top.
CREATIVITY
In Art Class:
I don’t want to draw a bowl of fruit
a flower or a fairy —
I want to paint an alien
all green and hugely hairy
with seven eyes — four pink, three black
six arms like metal flippers
a dozen legs in leather socks
his toes in Martian slippers.
In English Class:
I don’t want to write a poem, Miss
I’d rather write a story
about a vampire in the woods
all monsterful and gory —
how he could turn into a bat
with an awesome set of choppers
until a slayer came along
and staked him good and proper.
In Geography Class:
I don’t want to learn about Brazil
Australia or France
what crops are grown in India
or how the Turkish dance
I want to draw another map
of somewhere else instead —
a really wild exciting place
I pictured in my head.
In Drama Class:
I don’t want to stand here and pretend
that I’m some kind of tree
I told my teacher that I can’t —
she shook her head at me
and later, in my school report
revealed her irritation —
“Sam is capable but slow
and lacks imagination.”
BARNEY AND MISTER SCRATCHIT
My brother Barney bought a mouse
and named it Mister Scratchit,
the mouse escaped — got clean away
and nobody could catch it.
The rodent rampaged through the house,
it nibbled, gnawed and worried
holes in almost everything —
it shredded, chewed and scurried
from room to room and left a trail
of damage and destruction
until our dad decided he’d
invest in pest reduction.
Not Rentakill but Dialadope —
the bait was cheddar, nobbled
so mouse would snack then fall asleep
once the first chunk was gobbled.
But Mister Scratchit sniffed the cheese,
suspicious and unsure,
then flicked his tail and darted off
to go and live next door.
Now Barney has another pet —
a goldfish known as Bubble —
who’s not quite so much fun as mouse
but has been far less trouble.
ZACHARIAH
My name is Zak —
a witch’s cat —
I’m lean and mean and shifty
I’m fond of mice
they’re small but nice
I wish they weren’t so nifty.
I’ve sampled toad
squashed on the road
I’ve nibbled newts and lizards
and once a bat —
I hated that —
it stuck right in my gizzard.
My witch believes
all felines need
a truly balanced diet —
she boils up slugs
assorted bugs
and thinks I ought to try it.
But would you
eat insect stew ?
I never touch her cooking
I tip the lot
back in the pot
the instant she’s not looking.
That’s why I’m thin —
all bones and skin —
my purr a hollow rumble
I hunt all night
but mice take fright —
they hear my stomach grumble.
I sometimes wish
for bowls of fish —
I dream of ratatouille
with juicy rat
all plump and black
their tails all long and chewy!
Frustrating how
my loud miaow
when I jump up beside her
provokes a grin —
she’ll find a tin
and toss me a fresh spider!
I really fear
I’ll disappear —
completely fade away
unless she gets
some tasty pets
and puts them in my way!
I’d love a mole —
I’d eat him whole —
a hamster or canary —
just anything
with goodness in —
all tender, warm and hairy.
She calls me Zak
a nickname that
is easier for yelling
the witch can’t cook
or read a book —
she’s terrible at spelling.
I’m Zachariah —
brain on fire
from hunger, and I’m growling
’cos I just heard
a little bird...
excuse me, I’m off prowling!
BIG BOYS
I don’t want to play with the big boys any more —
I’m bashed about — my hands and knees are sore
my t-shirt’s torn and if that’s not enough
they don’t play fair — they’re really mean and rough.
They pick on me just because I’m young
and call me names — it’s really not much fun
because they kick and shove me when they find
I’ve got the ball — they’re stupid and unkind.
Okay, I’m short and skinny but so what?
I’m quicker than the other kids they’ve got —
and given half a chance I’d show them all
the way to tackle, pass and aim that ball.
But they won’t listen — typical of boys
who won’t let other people share their toys
they know it all — they think they own the world
and what could I know? — I am just a girl!
WITCH-SILVER
A stray cat came to my front door
miaowing — so I let her in
she left wet footprints on my floor
then sat and washed from tail to chin.
Her eyes were green, her tongue was pink
her coat was thick and soft like silk —
the same all over — black as ink
I poured her a small dish of milk.
She chose a cushion for her bed
and went to sleep beside the fire
I talked to her and stroked her head
and told her all my heart’s desire.
Next morning, early, as dawn broke
someone knocked upon my door —
a figure bent beneath a cloak
a voice I’d dreamed the night before
who called the cat by some strange name
and puss ran out to greet the crone
then they both turned, their look the same
next moment I was on my own...
I’d pondered on it all that week
but told no one, when a grey bird
with something hanging from its beak
flew through my window and I heard
the witch’s voice purr in my ear
“these seven silver coins can buy
those secret things your heart holds dear...”
her breath a ragged, haunting sigh.
I hid the pouch of silver coins
safe out of sight, without delay —
stashed them where the cross beam joins
the bird croaked thrice and flapped away.
Dark magic seeped — bewitched my house
my mind grew weak with dread that soon
the witch would come — play cat and mouse —
but most I feared the next full moon.
When it was due I locked the door
shut fast the windows streaming rain
I sprinkled herbs across the floor
the wind died down, blew hard again...
I heard a mew, I heard a laugh
the coins fell from their hiding place —
a sudden bang, an icy draft
and at the window pressed a face.
The hag stared in, the coins had rolled
around my feet — I grabbed them up
in panic — for my blood ran cold —
and hurled them out as midnight struck.
There was a screech — a howl of pain
a blinding flash of purple light
the witch rose with her clothes aflame
I trembled and felt sick with fright.
She hurtled, burning through the air
her broomstick like a comet’s trail
growing fainter as I stared
an echo lingered of her wail.
And where the coins had struck the soil
seven silver serpents sprang —
glittering, each scaly coil
sharp as steel, each curving fang.
They reared and hissed and spat their hate
then out of nowhere courage came
so I attacked them, didn’t wait
but ended that nightmarish game
with neon swords of light that flashed
and thunder roaring overhead
the serpents lunged, the storm-blades slashed
until all seven snakes lay dead.
As I watched, their skins grew dull —
withered as the flesh decayed
then their bones, and last each skull
crumbled, melted clean away...
The spell was broken, furthermore
since that strange night I never let
an unknown cat inside my door
in case it is some witch’s pet.
It was a trick — I should have known
that kindness is its own reward
nor taken silver from that crone
for freely-given bed and board.
NO ADDITIVES
My mum’s a witch, I’m sure she is —
I know it from her cooking —
she adds bizarre ingredients
when no one else is looking.
Every mealtime’s a surprise —
we’re not sure what we’re eating —
I bet her steak and kidney pies
have more than normal meat in.
I thought I saw a bat wing once —
a small grey web of gristle —
it really put me off my tea
I also found a bristle —
a springy hair all thick and long
floating in my porridge
and it was black and we’re all blonde
so what that proves is horrid.
One day Mum said ‘just for a change
we’ll have a finger buffet’ —
that sounded way too weird and strange
I sneaked off to the café.
But on the menu, plain as plain
it said Toad-in-the-Hole
and I thought here we go again
and ordered a cheese roll.
Mum wants to try Hungarian
(that goulash stuff is lumpy)
so I’ve gone vegetarian
and even Dad’s turned grumpy.
She thinks it’s just a passing fad —
my fruit and salad diet —
but its the best defence I have
and other kids should try it
if they suspect their mum’s like mine —
too fond of kitchen magic —
try take-aways — phone Pizza line —
or dinner could turn tragic!
PET SHOP
How much is that spider in the window —
the one with the web full of flies?
How much is that spider in the window?
I do like its eight beady eyes.
I don’t want a gerbil or a hamster
or a budgie all feathered and green.
I don’t want a cute fluffy bunny
but a spider all hairy and mean.
So how much is that spider in the window?
It must be the biggest I’ve seen.
I just want that spider in the window
to scare people at Halloween.
PARTY TRICK
On Barney Summer’s birthday
he invited all his mates
but Barney hasn’t many friends —
just me and Robbie Bates
and Robbie’s sister Sarah
who took her cousin Joan
plus the boy who lives next door
who didn’t come alone
but brought along his favourite pet —
a lizard called Amanda
which magically had learned to talk
though few could understand her.
So Barney, Robbie Bates and me,
Joan, Sarah and Amanda
sat and had some birthday cake
on Barney’s back verandah
while James, the boy who lives next door
drew smoke rings with the candles
then we all passed the lizard round
and stroked her scaly handles.
Amanda blinked and gazed at us
she flicked her purple tongue
and concentrated all the while
on cleaning up the crumbs
then in a croaky voice she said
‘shall we play in the garden?’
I was dumbstruck, Robbie gasped
and Sarah answered ‘Pardon?’
Barney almost choked himself
and Joan went white as chalk
James looked smug and quietly said
‘I told you lizards talk!’
For no one saw his lips move
so the clever trick we missed —
he’s either a real wizard
or a great ventriloquist.
CHOCOLATES
Our great-granddad has a sweet tooth —
he has to have his chocs —
he hides them in the greenhouse
and scoffs them by the box.
Mum says he shouldn’t have them —
he’ll put on too much weight —
but great-granddad doesn’t listen
and says it’s far too late
to worry about diets
at his age — so why stop?
He taps his nose and whispers
and sends me down the shop.
We have this understanding
and it works perfectly —
I never spill the beans on him —
he never tells on me.
I sit and share his chocolates
most afternoons at four
he potters round his greenhouse
remembering the war
I’m the only one he talks to
I think he likes me best
for I’m allowed the orange creams —
great-granddad eats the rest.
GONE MISSING
Charlie’s not at school today
it feels strange and I miss him
although he’s not my boyfriend now
since I saw Alice kiss him.
For something happened yesterday
while playing in the park
and Charlie stayed out way too late —
’til it was nearly dark
and all the other kids had gone —
they left him on the swings
and we all know the park at night
is full of creepy things.
At first his mum and dad got cross
and then they called the police
who searched the park and found one shoe
and Charlie’s bright red fleece.
And now it’s in the newspapers
and on the tele live —
Charlie Miller’s not been seen
since yesterday at five.
No one knows for sure, of course
but some of us are guessing
what could have happened to our friend
’cos Charlie never listened
to warnings that he shouldn’t trust
or even speak to strangers —
they could be aliens or worse
and that’s the biggest danger.
I think a spaceship picked him up
for it seems really weird
one minute he was there and then
he went and disappeared.
We all hope soon they’ll bring him home —
back to his family
then he can tell us where he’s been
and solve the mystery.
MY POEM
I have a poem in me
and it’s trying to break out —
sometimes I feel it wriggle —
it moves and rolls about.
It pokes me and provokes me,
it mutters and it sighs,
it scratches with impatient feet
and makes appealing cries.
But when I picked my pencil up
quite ready to begin —
offered it a clean white page,
gave it an opening —
it got all shy and wouldn’t come,
it scuttled back inside —
I couldn’t pull the poem out
however hard I tried!
So I didn’t do my homework —
too bad, my teacher said,
that she couldn’t read my poem
when it’s still inside my head!
