Category Archives: Poem of the Day

Fear by Margaret Pearce

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Fear

 

I’ve never dreaded witches

Who look such dreadful frights,

Flying over ditches

On dark and windy nights.

 

I never shake if fingers

Touch my face at night,

If of course it lingers

I then turn on the light.

 

I just ignore the bogies

Lurking in the dark,

Packs of fat old fogies

Looking for a lark.

 

If I ever saw a lion

I’d punch him on the nose.

I’ve nerves of steel and iron

As everybody knows.

 

I don’t believe in being scared

I’ve never seen a ghost,

For creepy tales I’ve never cared,

And that’s my favourite boast.

 

I’ve proved that I’m the bravest

Of super heroes still,

So why does that stupid dentist

Still scare me with his drill?

oooOooo

 

© Margaret Pearce

The Echidna by Margaret Pearce

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The Echidna

 

An echidna passed across a track

heading towards a special snack.

 

A naturalist muttered,‘What a turn!

About this creature, I’ve got to learn.’

 

He kneeled to take a closer look

the echidna swung with strong right hook.

 

And it was such a heavy clout

it nearly knocked the watcher out.

 

The echidna curled into a prickly ball

snarling, ‘I don’t like you at all.’

 

The naturalist cried and mused upon

what it was that he’d done wrong.

 

He only wanted to see first hand

the weirdest creature in the land.

 

The echidna uncurled and stalked away

grumbling at his ruined day.

 

And idiots too dumb to know

you always let echidnas go –

 

About their business digging holes

and eating ants from salad bowls.

 

Or snuffling around a great big mound

Where tasty termites are always found.

 

To spare echnida watchers’ pain,

the moral of this tale is plain.

 

Always remember it’s very rude

to keep echidnas from their food.

 

© Margaret Pearce

Little Brother by Nardia Kelly

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Little Brother

 

Don’t yell or shout

Don’t be stupid

And fall about

 

The noise – the pain

Like stabbing knives,

or hail, or rain,

 

Push and shove

You never care

A monster,

 

To pull my hair.

I can’t stand you

I’m smothered

 

You are my painful,

nasty,

little brother.

 

© Nardia Kelly

A Bird Unique by Margaret Pearce

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A Bird Unique

Hoo hoo hoo, and he haw hay
laughed the Kooka on his way.

After him the Magpies chased
winging past in reckless haste.

What was it that the Kooka heard
to cause the Magpies get so stirred?

An ornithologist rushed to meet
a Magpie walking on two sore feet.

‘I’m scared to fly,’ the Magpie wailed
‘They laughed at me because I failed.’

He then limped on, a bird unique,
an unhappy agoraphobic freak.

oooOooo

© Margaret Pearce

Creepy Crawly Spider by Bonnie Lewis

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Creepy Crawly Spider

Creepy crawly spider
Hiding in my bed.
Creepy crawly spider
Crawling up my leg.

OOOH! YUCK!
Midnight and no light.
With any luck,
It won’t take a bite.

Creepy crawly spider
You’d best be on your way.
I’m about to cry,
If you don’t go away.

I am feeling itchy.
It’s not the time to sneeze.
Stay still and don’t flinch,
When it’s crawling on my knees.

Creepy crawly spider
I don’t like you.
Time to say goodbye.
SHOO! SHOO!

It’s growing bigger by the moment.
A massive, humungous thing.
I am lying here frozen,
Waiting for its sting.

Creepy crawly spider
I think I’m going to die.
I must take it in my stride,
As I say my last goodbye.

Then from across the room,
A flying wooden broom.
My sister saves the day
And makes the spider pay.

SPLOCH! SPLAT!
Squishy and flat.
It happened so fast
And I’m free at last.

What joy. Hooray.
My sister may be three.
She’s the hero of the day.
Wouldn’t you agree?

© Bonnie Lewis

Bird Watch by Jackie Hosking

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Bird Watch

 

I find it disconcerting

alarming and alerting

the unashamed asserting of their glee

 

It is true they sound impressive

if not manic and aggressive

then undoubtedly excessive definitely

 

Their reaction is confusing

as I’m not at all amusing

it’s my ego they are bruising carelessly

 

Don’t they know it’s impolite

taking unabashed delight

cracking up at all in sight hysterically

 

With their cacophonic chorus

piercing skin that’s thin and porous

you would think that they abhor us certainly

 

But apparently this bird

whose refrain is so absurd

was created to confer a word of warning

 

To the spirits who reply

to the Kookaburra’s cry

lighting up the inky sky at dawn each morning

 

© Jackie Hosking

A Crocodile Called Burt by Brian Moses

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A Crocodile Called Burt

(For Karen)

 

He’s a funky crocodile,

a chunky crocodile,

a crocodile called Burt.

 

He’s a fearsome beast,

three metres at least,

he looks sleepy but he is alert.

 

Just don’t be misled

that he’s tired in bed,

by the sound of his rumbling snores.

 

If you get too near

you may well disappear

between his chewmungous jaws.

 

He’s a moving rock,

he’s a common croc,

no pedigree and no frills.

 

But next door you’ll see

reptile royalty,

two crocs called Kate and Wills!

 

 There really are two crocodiles named after the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, and they both live with Burt at Crocosaurus Cove, a crocodile sanctuary in Darwin, Australia.) From The Monster Sale (Frances Lincoln, 2013)

 

ABOUT OUR GUEST POET

Brian Moses lives in the small Sussex village of Burwash with his wife Anne, and a loopy labrador called Honey. He first worked as a teacher but has now been a professional children’s poet for 26 years. To date he has over 200 books published including volumes of his own poetry such as A Cat Called Elvis and Behind the Staffroom Door  (both Macmillan), anthologies such as The Secret Lives of Teachers  and Aliens Stole My Underpants (both Macmillan) and picture books such as Beetle in the Bathroom  and Trouble at the Dinosaur Cafe (both Puffin). Over one million copies of Brian’s poetry books have now been sold by Macmillan. Brian’s blog address is  brian-moses.blogspot.com

Brian’s latest book is School Report

BrianMosesSchoolReportWIP

 

The Purple Pawed Parrot of North Peru by Mike Lucas

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                            The purple pawed parrot of Northern Peru

 

The purple pawed parrot of Northern Peru

Has got purple paws that aren’t orange or blue.

It isn’t a tiger, a toad or a turtle

But simply a parrot whose paws are all purple.

 

It lives in the Northern Peruvian jungle

In a Tumbletum tree in a nest made of Fungle.

It isn’t a reindeer, a rabbit or rat,

Just a purple pawed parrot – as simple as that.

 

It hasn’t a tail; there’s a bend in its beak.

Its eyesight is poor and it squawks with a squeak.

Now, it isn’t a bat or a bear or a boar.

It is only a parrot of purpley paw.

 

When it’s born it will leap from its nest made from Fungle

In its Tumbletum tree in the North Peru jungle,

But remember – it isn’t a fly, flea or fish.

It is only a parrot pawed purplyish.

 

There’s a pretty good chance that this parrot pawed purple

Will soar high above, but a chance it will hurtle

Straight down to the ground and be swallowed up whole

By a crafty carnivorous cat down below,

 

For this cat won’t fly, won’t eat flea, won’t eat fish

And, for him, bat, bear, boar won’t appeal as a dish,

Nor reindeers, rats, rabbits, toads tigers or turtles.

He’ll only eat parrots whose paws are all purple.

 

© Mike Lucas

I Luv My Spelling by Warren Cox

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I Luv My Speling

 

Last nite I sat doun kwietly

To get my homework dun.

I had to get my wirds rite

So I studdyd evry wun.

 

I thort Sir wood be hapy

and pat me on the hed.

But wen he cheked my ansirs,

his fase tirned brite brite red.

 

“Good heavens Smith,” he yelled at me.

“How could you be so dumb?

I’m going to write a note for you

to take home to your mum.”

 

I tuk the leter home with me

and wacht mum as she red.

She rote a leter bak to sir

and this is wot it sed.

 

Dear teecher thank you verry much

for karing bowt my sun.

I’ll help him lern his wurds tonite;

evry singal wun.

 

syned,

his muthar

 

© Warren Cox

Scarecrow by Jenny Erlanger

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Scarecrow

 

My scarecrow worked a wonder

in our brand new garden patch

but I made a fatal blunder

and must start again from scratch.

 

I’d made sure he was scary

‘cause his mission night and day

was to make the birdlife wary

and keep all the pests away.

 

His hair was wild and woolly

and his eyes were cold and hard.

He looked a fearsome bully

as he stood there in our yard.

 

His face was truly ghastly

With its horrid, evil smirk.

He looked so mean and nasty

as he carried out his work.

 

I’ve reassured my mother

that next time I’ll get it right.

I have to build another

’cause the plants all died of fright!

 

© Jenny Erlanger