I have a pet canary,
I call him Yellow Jack.
He has white feathers on his wings
and yellow on his back.
I love my pet canary,
I feed him every day.
I put fresh seeds into his bowl;
he pecks them straight away.
My dearest pet canary,
I love to hear him sing.
He chirps and cheeps to me each day
and even more in spring.
My lovely pet canary,
I watch him day and night.
Today I watched him lay an egg.
Oops!
I think her name’s not right!
How will you travel, on foot or by train?
What if it’s cold, if it threatens to rain?
When are we likely to see you again?
Do you know when you’re going to be back?
I think that the tram and the bus would be good.
I’ll pack an umbrella and coat with a hood.
I’d give you a date if I thought that I could
but it might be a year down the track.
Won’t you be lonely with nowhere to stay?
When are you leaving, what time of the day?
Why are you planning on moving away?
Is everything really that bad?
I’m taking my toys. I’ll have plenty to do.
I’m banking on leaving the house around two.
And now that you ask, I’m escaping from you!
Your questions are driving me mad!
There’s an elephant hiding in the fridge?
How can you be so sure?
There are footprints in the margarine
and eggshells on the floor.
How did an elephant manage
to get himself inserted?
It must have been a treat to see
the skill that he exerted.
Its elementary, my friend,
he slid inside with ease.
He clearly used the margarine
as lubricating grease.
Take away all of those long beans,
throw away broccoli too.
I’m quite unable to like greens.
Ditto for anything blue!
Eggplant and aubergine, no, no!
Roasted nor boiled nor fried.
Veggies of all kinds can go, go,
and any food I haven’t tried!
Nothing that’s fruity or cheesy,
no soup, no pasta, no rice.
Stewing and baking can’t please me,
eggy things really aren’t nice.
seafood if it’s from the sea.
And better not give me a lolly!
Never present me with curry,
cornbread, rye, barley or wheat,
but Mother I’d like you to hurry,
I’m starving and I want to eat!
Alys said: I couldn’t resist having a go at a rhyming poem for all the fussy eaters. As far as writing technique goes, I write wherever and whenever I get a good idea. I always carry a notebook and love reading poetry of all types.
The Bradbury Brothers Big Top
Travelled round from town to town
With all the big attractions
Tigers, tightropes and a clown
To keep the patrons interested
They had to keep it new
So they brought a snake and elephant
And bearded lady too
But the Strongman pulled a hammie
(He exerted too much force)
And the showgirl broke her leg
When falling from her dancing horse
The Bradbury Brothers panicked
The tent was full of angry hicks
They would have to get the elephant
To do some magic tricks
Card tricks are elementary
And quite easy to debunk
This trick must be amazing
(And completed with a trunk!)
They set up eight big ostrich eggs
With care upon the mat
And gave the giant pachyderm
A wizard wand and hat
Then to the crowd’s great wonder
Each egg just sank away
Though it was not a magic elephant
(but a starving snake that day)
The only proof of what occurred
For the trick had gone so well
Was a smiling snake contented
Burping out the old egg shells.
An impressive, aggressive iguana
while eating his breakfast banana
slipped on the skin
went into a spin
and ended up flying to Ghana.
Did you hear how little Miss Muffet
Sat down to eat some food on a tuffet?
Her curds and whey were soft and wet
(These curds and whey are what you get
When using milk for making cheese,
So do not look for them on trees).
If you went out tonight to eat
Instead you’d likely have a seat
And choose a favourite food or two
And wait till it was served to you,
Or from the buffet eat your fill,
But not so much it made you ill.
Now should Miss Muffet too turn up
With curds and whey in bowl or cup
And say: “This buffet’s not for me,
Try this, it’s better, you’ll agree.”
Here’s what I suggest you say:
“Let’s go and get some takeaway.”
Monty says: “A buffet dinner celebration with family a few months back came to mind with the prompt. This got me thinking about how confusing a child might find the pronunciation of “buffet”, having been exposed at some point to little Miss Muffet, let alone what she ate, so I decided to explore both in this simple poem.”
Imagine, my friend…if you please, if you will…
That teeth were attached to your gums with great skill
By elastic – retractable, spit-proof and strong –
So that when they were wobbly, they’d not wobble long…
That the mean, ancient aunt who with glee and guffaw
Recommends that you tie your poor tooth to the door
With some cotton, then slams that old door with a bang!
Would faint dead away as your tooth, with a twang,
Zoomed back to your mouth in its boomerang way
Ready to chomp, munch and gobble all day.
Imagine, my friend… if you will, if you please…
That your teeth could extend down as far as your knees.
You could sit at the table with very straight back
Crunching secret supplies that were down in your lap.
And your mum, for whom manners at table are utmost,
Has cooked, let’s imagine, a nice, healthy nut-roast,
With no earthly clue that her child, yes, that’s you…
Is secretly eating the worst kind of goo.
The sugar, the colour, the taste, oh so yummy!
Is chomped in your lap, then transferred to your tummy.
Imagine, my friend… if you please, one last time…
That your teeth – so retractable, yes, so sublime –
Were immune, nay impervious, to plaque and to grot
And were teeth, everlasting, that just couldn’t rot,
So that if you ate junk, and let’s face it, you would,
Your teeth would stay healthy; your breath would stay good.
And your dentist, with beam fit to light up her clinic
Would trumpet your praise: ‘The example to mimic!’
Wouldn’t you grin at your photo beneath
Her new dentistry ad for Retractable Teeth?
Australian Children’s Poetry 