Category Archives: Poem of the Day

The Halloween Party by Doug MacLeod

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The Halloween Party

 

The children are having a party

It’s a Halloween Party tonight

There are ghosts and ghouls

And mysterious pools

Of something that’s red and bright

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

There are screaming dollies and poisonous lollies

And someone will cook up a brew

Of raspberry punch, but I have a hunch

It may contain cockroaches too.

There’ll be silverfish in the Turkish delight

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

There’s fairy bread and they’ll chop off your head

If you don’t eat a slice or two

The sprinkles they’ve used are poison-infused

A horrid concoction, it’s true

But the children will eat them and squeal with delight

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

The bottles of jam should be left quite alone

They don’t contain fruit, but there’s blood and there’s bone

And if you should dare to sample the stuff

You’ll find that a spoonful is more than enough

You won’t last long, you’ll be out like a light

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

The two guillotines are a lovely idea

They bought them on sale at the local Ikea

They can’t wait to use them, and so I suggest

You wear a thick collar, a metal one’s best.

Or else you may get a reduction in height

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

The children are having a party

A Halloween party tonight

It’s terribly wicked, but great fun for all

See spectres and phantoms walk right through the wall

And someone is bound to set nighties alight

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

Bring your own chainsaw, but dress isn’t formal,

It’s best to wear something entirely abnormal

A cape made of bats will be just the right thing!

And, for heaven’s sake, do remember to bring

A playmate with whom you can fight

At the Halloween party tonight.

 

There are colourful balls from an army stall

But resist the temptation to touch them at all.

They’re hand grenades, I’m rather afraid,

So touch them and quite a loud bang will be made

But not quite as loud as the dynamite

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

 

There’ll be games to play, but let me just say –

Be careful of musical chairs.

If you’re standing up when the music stops

They’ll chain you and kick you downstairs.

And those chains will be locked as tight as tight

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

The children have sent out their invitations

To vampires and zombies and ghouls of all nations

It’s a multicultural beastly bash

For monsters that howl and claw and bash

There’ll be creatures you wouldn’t dare to invite

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

 

The children are having a party

A Halloween party tonight

The games they’ve invented are frankly demented

You’ll be thrown in the lake with both feet cemented

The candles they burn will be arsenic-scented

Breaking Dawn fans will be deeply resented.

A genuine iron maiden they’ve rented

And once you’re locked in, I’m afraid you’re prevented

From evermore seeing the light

At the Halloween Party tonight.

 

Doug MacLeod

 

The Lost Cat and Sweet Violets by Virginia Lowe

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The Lost Cat and Sweet Violets

 

There once were some children who found a small cat

Homewards they took her to sit on a …

Cushion, and just then she wanted to eat

So they gave her a plate of nice juicy …

Carrots – but she didn’t like orange she’d rather have red

So they found her some roses to try them…

As food. But she turned up her little pink nose

And said she would never eat flowers unless they were…

 

Sweet violets, sweeter than the roses

Covered all over from head to toe

Covered all over with sweet violets.

 

© Virginia Lowe

Comment: The lack of rhyme makes the rhyme obvious and amusing, and as Norman Lindsey (The Magic Pudding) remarked, children are most interested in food. So here it is.

 

Ham vs Flout by Lynelle Kendall

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Ham vs Flout

 

Captain Ham had a beard as green as old broccoli,

And a streak as mean as a bitter green.

 

They say that he led his crew in a mutiny,

Against Captain Flout (just a young brussel sprout).

 

The battle was swift and soon Ham had the victory,

All Flout’s hopes sank as he walked the plank.

 

Balanced on the edge looking down into destiny,

His quivering lips were as pale as parsnips.

 

“This ‘ere be the Basin of Sharks,” sneered his enemy,

“Thanks for ye ship, in ye go fer a dip!”

 

Splash!

 

The overthrown captain was chomped up like celery.

The ship sailed away but ever since that day…

 

Superstitious old Ham has been cursed by the memory.

He can’t eat a sprout without thinking of Flout.

Lynelle Kendall

Small Wonder by Monty Edwards

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Small Wonder

 

Please don’t be frightened, sweet butterfly blue,

I just want to capture a picture of you.

As I inch closer I mean you no harm.

It’s not my intention to cause you alarm.

Your wings are so delicate: colours so pretty!

Please don’t fly away. That would be such a pity.

No need now to flutter, I’ll keep this quite brief.

Just stay where you are on that rich deep green leaf.

That’s perfect! I’ve got you! You’ll soon be on show:

Your beauty shared proudly with people I know.

 

Monty Edwards

Monty says: This poem draws on recent experience at a magnificent butterfly farm in Penang, Malaysia.

Rainstorm by Katherine Gallagher

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Rainstorm

 

A single drop

plop, plop, plop

joining other drops     plop, plop, plop

plopplopplopplopplopplopplopplopplop

into rivers, on to crops,

getting thicker, louder, quicker

in the cities on the streets

water coming down in sheets

raindrops dropping, never stopping

ad infinitum

plop, plop     plopping

© Katherine Gallagher

Katherine said:  The inspiration came from hearing a single drop, loud and individual, and then the gradual building into a thunderstorm and more.

This is Me! by Patti Bourne

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This Is Me!

 

Morning sun throws out gold to fill up the sky,

I wake, thoughts wash through my brain as I lie.

 

I eat in a room full of joy and sunshine

And vow to myself that this day shall be mine.

 

I pack up my things and climb on my bike

And pedal and pedal, this is just what I like!

 

Happiness bubbles I recognise glee,

I dance and I twirl. This is me, this is me!

 

I pedal back home with a smile on my face,

I need no one to tell me I’m in just the right place.

 

The moon rises up as I sink into sleep

And dreams take my soul to a midnight blue deep.

Patti Bourne

A Scorpion’s Search by Pat Simmons

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A Scorpion’s Search

A scorpion christened Cruella, left home to search for a fella.

She sifted through sand and she searched under slate.

She peered under pebbles to look for a mate.

She reached under rocks and she gazed at the ground

but a masculine mini beast couldn’t be found.

 

Cruella, poor creature, was filled with despair.

There had to be someone who loved her out there.

But wait! She heard rustling and spotted the cause.

From a burrow appeared some spectacular claws.

 

They belonged to a sumptuous scorpion male.

What glorious eyes, and that sting in his tail!

It was love at first sight for Cruella and friend,

Which is how satisfactory quests all should end.

Pat Simmons

 

Eclectic Tastes by Lynelle Kendall

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Eclectic Tastes

 

My sister Carissa likes classical music,

My brothers like hip-hop and rap.

My mum? She likes opera. My Dad likes the blues,

But me? I don’t know which to choose.

 

Aunt Paula likes pop, Uncle Jimmy likes jazz,

My cousins like country and folk.

My teacher likes techno, my mate likes reggae,

But me? Well, I really can’t say.

 

My Pa’s into punk. Granny loves rock and roll.

My Great Grandad says “Play honky tonk!”

My cat chooses Celtic, my dog likes to swing,

But me? I can’t choose what to sing.

 

I like a capella and garage and gospel,

And blue grass or even baroque.

A fan of all genres – this fact I can’t hide

Which is best? There’s no way I’ll decide.

 

Just look at my playlist, I’m not playing favourites

You could say I’ve got eclectic taste.

Force me to choose but you’ll have no success,

There’s no way I can say which is best.

Lynelle Kendall

A Ball, a Dog and Us by Jenny Erlanger

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A ball, a dog and us

 

You look as if you’re giggling

and your tail is madly wriggling

Yes, I know that all you want to do is run.

 

But, Poppet, we’re not racing

and we’re tired of all the chasing.

I’m warning you, this isn’t any fun!

 

I thought that you adored me

and is this how you reward me?

If I were you, I’d hang my head in shame.

 

You’re going to cop it, Poppet

if you don’t let go and drop it.

Just stop it!

You are ruining our game!

 

Jenny Erlanger

Pathway in the Park by Monty Edwards

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Pathway in the Park

 

The winter sun was sinking. It was getting rather late.

Our parents would be waiting at the park’s main entrance gate.

“Make sure you’re back by sunset!” That had been Dad’s final word,

But Mum chose to repeat it to make sure that we had heard.

 

Because I was the oldest, Dad had said I was in charge,

Adding: “Stay together always!” since the park was very large.

Also quite important was to stay close to the track,

For then we’d simply follow it to make our way straight back.

 

We walked downhill some distance, then we found a little creek.

This turned out really excellent for playing hide and seek.

The trees and boulders by the banks were great to hide behind

And in the creek some coloured stones, I felt, were quite a find.

 

The time there passed more quickly than I ever realised

So when I glanced down at my watch, I really was surprised.

“We’ve been here much too long!” I cried, “It’s time for us to go.

We can’t afford to take our stones. They’ll make us far too slow.”

 

The others tried to argue, but I wouldn’t change my mind.

The pathway back was steep uphill, so stones were left behind.

We hid them underneath a bush and hoped to come back soon

To find and play with them again, some other afternoon.

 

The sun no longer warmed us and we felt the winter chill.

The wind blew in our faces as we climbed the steps uphill.

The shadows grew much longer and the sky was turning red.

Our legs were getting weary, but we faced more steps ahead.

 

Beyond the steps, in fading light, our pathway took a bend

And as it curved off to the right I thought we’d find the end,

But still the path continued on. No gate came into view.

Nor was there sign of Mum or Dad. What were we going to do?

 

The path was now all we had left to guide us to the gate,

Since round us everything was dark and we were awfully late.

The wind was whistling eerily: a mournful sort of sound.

We huddled close together and our hearts began to pound!

 

Just then I thought I heard a shout. It sounded like my name.

“I’m here!” I cried with all my might. The others did the same.

Despite the dark, we knew the voice, it clearly was our Dad

And though we were in trouble, I could not have been more glad!

 

Monty Edwards

Monty says: For me the first challenge was to find a suitable narrative involving children for the setting in the prompt. From a basic scenario based loosely on personal experience the rhyming verse was developed with the aim of providing enough colour and detail to achieve an appropriate level of tension and resolution.