Scrambled Eggs!
Young Daniel put his dad’s boots on,
His own boots – they were fine,
But his dad’s boots stood alone.
They were spacious – very roomy,
The same length as his legs.
And what was more he found
That there was room to put the eggs!
MEGHAN MARKLE’S MOUSE
My home is my castle — Windsor Castle —
And I live in St George’s Chapel;
Being a mouse I go foraging
for some crumbs and pieces of apple.
My chapel is mostly a peaceful place,
But no! Not on the nineteenth of May:
won’t have a moment to bless myself
when the world comes to visit that day.
They’re making history on May nineteen,
and there will be no time to tarry —
but I’ll have a front row seat to see
Meghan Markle marry Prince Harry!
I’ll hide underneath Her Majesty’s chair —
that should give me an excellent view —
and I’ll wave my tail and squeak hooray
when Meghan and Harry say I do!
A CLOGYRNACH GOES
(A clogyrnach is a six-line Welsh poem.
Lines 1 and 2 have eight syllables with an a rhyme;
lines 3 and 4 have five syllables with a b rhyme;
line 5 has three syllables with a b rhyme;
line 6 has three syllables with an a rhyme.)
I went to the dentist last week;
he opened my mouth for a peek.
When he saw inside,
his eyes goggled wide.
What he spied
made him shriek.
The news he gave me was chilling,
“All of your front teeth need filling;
they’re full of decay,
I’ll fix them today!”
I said, “Yay! —
start drilling!”
He was deftly wielding his drill
when he sneezed as though he were ill!
He bored through my gum —
drilled into my bum —
“Sorry, chum,
here’s my bill.”
My time in his chair had been brief,
full of torture, terror and grief!
Let my teeth all fall —
no dentist I’d call!
After all —
who needs teeth?
Rosie Fields and Ruby Brooks
were capable and clever chooks.
When the friendly household boys
took them shiny chicken toys,
the ladies clucked, “We’d rather books!”
Those boys called Simon, Steve, and Stan,
came up with a crafty plan:
“The weather is so fresh and cool,
the chooks could do our work from school.
We’ll jump in puddles while we can.”
They brought their books out to the hens
and gave them paper pads and pens.
They jumped in boots of brightest red
while chickens did their maths instead…
But chooks don’t know their twos from tens.
They put their teacher in a spin
when they turned those answers in.
“Scritch scratch squawk
and bok bwok bwuawk.”
She tossed it all straight in the bin.
Don’t Let the Chickens do Your Homework by Kylie Covark
Autumn Fun.
It is now autumn.
We may not choose to keep summer a little longer,
Nor stop winter from bringing its chill.
So now as our land turns away from the sun,
We suddenly remember that autumn is fun!
Hurry and harvest.
Preserve all your crops.
Natter and Knit more jumpers and socks.
Crochet a poncho, a knee rug or two.
Don’t forget firewood and clean out the flue.
Gather together, come one and all.
We’ll do all this work while the autumn leaves fall.
And then in the winter our rest – we’ll have earned.
Glad that the autumn is each year returned.
By Louise McCarthy
Beckoning Autumn
Come burnt orange
golden yellow and burnished red
leaves.
Bring us
relief from heat waves
and air conditioners.
Remember my light red jumper
and favourite boots
They’re out once more.
Loosen your leaves
to reveal sculptural trees
on the hillsides.
Let the fading days of summer
whisper listening to autumn jazz
with a Milo.
This is an Invitation Poem. Based on Barbara Esbensen’s book “A Celebration of Bees: Helping Children Write Poetry“, you write a poem like this when you want something to happen, like a season, event or a birthday party.
Autumn Leaves
Ruby red and scarlet
leaves fly, scatter, crunch
Cold air whirls, lifts –
orange flurries skip and flutter.
Rapt by the dance
swayed by its flow,
I embrace this autumn show
knowing that soon
winter will come.