“Our Yeti” by Chris Owen

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Our Yeti

We went to the pet shop to buy a new kitten but ended up getting a yeti.

The shopkeeper said, ‘It eats two-minute noodles and oodles of homemade spaghetti.’

 

We took our new yeti to meet Aunty Betty whose pantry is chockful of noodles,

 But, sadly, the yeti devoured Auntie Betty and three of her pedigree poodles.

 

Our yeti then quickly became very sickly. We rushed it along to the vet,

Who said, ‘I’ve seen creatures with hideous features, but this is the yuckiest yet.’

 

I told him our yeti mistook Aunty Betty for something decidedly yummy,

And eating the poodles instead of the noodles was giving it pains in the tummy.

 

The vet looked perplexed so he ran a few checks. Then he finally made a suggestion,

‘I think in the end I will just recommend an apple to aid the digestion

 

Then in a trice (this bit isn’t nice) our gluttonous pet from Tibet,

the big hairy brute, after eating the fruit, proceeded to swallow the vet.

 

Those large yeti lips then spat out the pips, some spectacles, shoes and a sweater.

And then, I must say, by the end of the day our pet did appear to be better.

 

Now we’ve trained our pet yeti to eat its spaghetti and noodles so no one gets hurt.

And now, if it’s good and behaves as it should, it gets to have extra dessert.

 

“Oi, Turn the Lights Off!” by Chris Owen

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Oi, Turn the Lights Off!

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder where you are! Hidden by the orange glow
Of the city far below.
Curse this wretched light pollution! Can’t we find some bright solution?

Chris Owen 2019 (with apologies to Jane Taylor)

“Pat’s Cafe” by Chris Owen

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Pat’s Café

Have you heard about this restaurant? They call it Pat’s Café,

It’s famous for its specialties like ‘Dungball of the Day’,

The punters flock from far afield to try the bolognaise,

Made from the finest cow manure and slurry mayonnaise.

 

They do a lovely paddock pie (the critics all agree),

That’s cooked from fresh ingredients they grow organically,

And for the connoisseur there’s much to make them lick their lips,

Like cowpat flavoured fizzy-pop with battered dung and chips,

 

But the top dish on the menu simply has to be a scoop,

Of dung ice-cream and sprinkles with a giant squirt of poop.

Yes, Pat’s Café gets rave reviews from diners in the know,

There’s nowhere else that dung beetles with taste would rather go.

 

“Handball Queen” by Chris Owen

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Handball Queen

 

Amber Green. Handball Queen.

Quickest hands you’ve ever seen.

Recess time you’ll find her there,

prowling round the handball square.

Who will play her? Who will dare?

 

Daniel Drover. Year 4. Brave.

Odds unlikely. Chances grave.

Green strikes forehand, like a cobra.

 

Dipping shot bamboozles Drover.

Ricochet. Green wins. Game over.

 

Amber Green. Handball Queen.

Undefeated. Best there’s been.

Recess time she’s waiting there,

ruler of the handball square.

Who can beat her? Who will dare?

Matthew Lockett. Year 6. Bruiser.

 

Playground bully. Put-down user.​​​

Green serves fast. A forehand rocket.

Lunging left he dives to block it.

Nose hits concrete.  Goodbye Lockett.

 

Amber Green. Handball Queen.

 

Reigning champion. Win machine.​​​​

Recess time she’s over there,

master of the handball square.

Who will face her? Who will dare?

 

Daisy Nguyen. Year 5. Plucky.

Daring. Fearless. Feeling lucky.

Green serves high and leaps to dunk it.

Nguyen pounces. Back hand. Sunk it.

Ball still bouncing. Green could flunk it.

Arm outstretched. A top-spin pass. Was it in?

There’s the siren. Back to class…

Daisy Nguyen. Lean and mean.

Undisputed Handball Queen.

After lunch you’ll find her there,

 

prowling round the handball square. ​​

Who will verse her? Who will dare?

Chris Owen 2018

“Playing With Your Food” by Chris Owen

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Playing With Your Food

 

The beans stood on the boundary.

The spuds were in the slips.

The carrot stood at silly point.

At gully were the chips.

At deep square leg the celery was ready with the dips.

 

The VI Peas were in the stands and banking on a draw.

The soup came steaming in to bowl.

You should’ve heard the roar.

But the apple read the line and length,

and tonked the ball for four.

 

The veggies needed wickets, so they introduced a spinner,

an aubergine, that many times had proved to be a winner,

and now it had the chance to gain the upper hand at dinner.

 

A fizzing ball just clipped the pads.

“Howzat!” cried Brussel Sprout.

The spuds appealed in unison.

There wasn’t any doubt.

The pepper grinder quite agreed and gave the lemon out.

 

The fruits were looking shaky, so the veg sent on their quicks,

who fired down some bouncers with a googly in the mix,

but the avocado wasn’t fazed and smashed them all for six.

 

Now the apple at the city end just needed one more run,

and when it smacked a cover drive it knew the game was won.

Oh, what a way to end the match and score a maiden ton.

Yes, playing with your food is wrong, but also heaps of fun.

 

Chris Owen 2018

‘Pat’s Cafe’’ by Chris Owen

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Pat’s Café

Have you heard about this restaurant? They call it Pat’s Café,

It’s famous for its specialties like ‘Dungball of the Day’,

The punters flock from far afield to try the bolognaise,

Made from the finest cow manure and slurry mayonnaise.

 

They do a lovely paddock pie (the critics all agree),

That’s cooked from fresh ingredients they grow organically,

And for the connoisseur there’s much to make them lick their lips,

Like cowpat flavoured fizzy-pop with battered dung and chips,

 

But the top dish on the menu simply has to be a scoop,

Of dung ice-cream and sprinkles with a giant squirt of poop.

Yes, Pat’s Café gets rave reviews from diners in the know,

There’s nowhere else that dung beetles with taste would rather go.

Chris Owen 2018