Though pirates get by
with a patch on one eye
their lives out at sea can be grim.
No wonder they’re mean,
all the pirates I’ve seen
have clearly been missing a limb.
I now understand
all those hooks for a hand,
the clumping around on a peg.
To fit out their ships
for those plundering trips
must cost them an arm and a leg!
Jenny Erlanger
There’s a booger in my hanky, it’s been there for half an hour
It is fresh and it is green, but it tastes a little sour
I will hide it in my sock drawer if I ever take a shower
I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind
There’s a booger in my hanky and it’s been there all the day
It is icky and it’s sticky and it’s looking pretty grey
I think I’ll try to train it, and teach it how to stay
I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind
There’s a booger in my hanky and it’s been in there all week
It is probably worth a lot ’cause it’s almost an antique
If you really want to see it I can give you a quick peak
I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind
There’s a booger in my hanky, now it’s been in there a year
It’s as solid as a rock and it’s looking pretty clear
That the booger is a goner, but don’t you shed a tear
There’s plenty of other boogers I can find
I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind?
Allan Cropper
In winter my feet get quite chilly
So I wear umpteen socks, I’m not silly
When the gas bills come in
They all go in the bin
And I burn them to boil up my billy.
Nadine Cranenburgh
Have you woken up to find
you don’t know how you feel?
That’s how I felt when I woke up today.
I tried to find a word that would
express the way I felt
but there were not the words that would convey
the feelings I was feeling, for
it all felt so surreal,
a feeling like no other I have known.
I cannot find the words to tell you
how it is I felt.
I’ll have to make up new words of my own.
I felt flagisticatious,
all wimbillical inside.
Indubicartly grobble-poxed, was I.
Befuddulant and jingle-jacked,
quite micro-ballical,
which can’t have been too pleasing to the eye.
I felt so astro-numical,
anthortical in fact,
in a very catostrismic kind of way.
And that, my friend, just sums it up –
exactly how I felt –
the way I felt when I awoke today.
Allan Cropper
I’ve scraped the skin
From off my chin,
My arms and legs are grazed,
My elbow’s sprained,
My ankle’s maimed,
I’m feeling kind of dazed.
I’ve crunched my neck,
My knee’s a wreck,
My fingers curl like claws,
My dental work
Has gone berserk
And jammed up both my jaws.
My eyes are black,
My nose is red,
My lips are turning blue –
So tell me why
The teachers cry –
SPORT IS GOOD FOR YOU!
Jill McDougall
A FROG ON A LOG
A frog
a frog on a log
a frog on a log with a bag full of sticks
a frog on a log with a bag full of tricks
a frog
a magical frog
a mystical frog
a wave
a wave of a stick
a wave of a stick from his bag full of tricks
a wave of a wand from his bag full of sticks
a fog
a magical fog
a mystical fog
a mist
a mist on a pond
a mystical fog on a frog on a log
a frog on a log was no longer a frog
a frog on a log had turned into a dog
a dog
a magical dog
a mystical dog
a dog
a dog not a frog
a dog, not a frog, on a log in a fog
a dog not a frog with a bag full of sticks
a dog not a frog with a bag full of tricks
a wave
a wave of a stick
a wave of a stick from his bag full of tricks
a wave of a wand from his bag full of sticks
a smog
a magical smog
a mystical smog
a twist
a twist of a tail
a magical smog and the pond was a bog
a dog not a frog was no longer a dog
a dog not a frog had turned into a hog
a hog
a magical hog
a mystical hog
a hog
a hog not a dog
a hog not a frog
a hog in a bog
a hog not a dog or a frog on a log
a hog in a bog not a dog or a frog
a magical hog with a bag full of sticks
a magical hog with a bag full of tricks.
Allan Cropper
Unputdownable
I got a book for Christmas, and I couldn’t put it down,
But it wasn’t by a writer of spectacular renown.
The plot was never gripping, and the characters weren’t great.
The illustrations, truth be told, were rather second rate.
I didn’t like the paper, and the binding looked quite cheap,
Yet still this book prevented me from drifting into sleep.
So why did I not put it down? This little puzzle still lingers.
It’s very simple, really. I had glue upon my fingers!
© Stephen Whiteside 10.01.2015
Uncle Jack
Uncle Jack belongs Outback
so when he comes to visit,
he brings along his kangaroo
and Bert, his blue-tongue lizard.
He decorates the Christmas tree
with lots of slimy critters,
and when he turns the lights up high
he makes snakeburger fritters.
He also brings his cattle dog –
it bites off postie’s limbs.
On Christmas Eve it stays awake
howling sacred hymns.
Uncle carves the turkey up,
(half for him and half for pup)
and when it’s time to have dessert
he swipes my share to give to Bert!
His kangaroo sits at the table,
on the lap of Auntie Mabel.
It chews away on Christmas cake
and Auntie’s finger(by mistake).
After lunch Jack tells us that
He’ll show us how to shear the cat.
His presents bring us added gloom,
a gift-wrapped spider’s in my room.
His boomerang display is free
it’s always a catastrophe.
He throws it with a cocky leer,
it wedges in old Grannie’s ear.
The police are called to have a chat.
They ask about the crewcut cat.
And so it’s time to say goodbye,
a tear wells up inside his eye,
he gushes like a broken drain,
we have to push him on the train.
And Uncle Jack returns Outback,
with dog and roo and lizard,
and it only takes us til July
to recover from his visit.
© Bill Condon
Note: The chest of poems for Poem of the Day has been empty for many days. Where are the poems? If you’d like to see your children’s poem published, please send it along to dibates@outlook.com
The Giant Hat
Wacko Jack from Ballarat
Built the most enormous hat,
Made of canvas with a great big brim,
Three storeys tall with a velvet trim.
Some dogs howled, while babies cried
When they saw Jack’s hat he wore with pride,
Old ladies gulped while others grinned,
Until one day a howling wind
Saw Jack take off, up he went,
Sailing high like a flying tent,
He yelled out loud with a face so grim,
“Next time I’ll make a smaller brim.”
That same night when it was late,
A UFO spotted above Bass Straight,
But it was only Jack still holding on
To the flying hat that’d gone so wrong.
© John Williams
Doctor!
‘Doctor, doctor, doctor,
I feel awfully like a goat.’
The doctor said, ‘Let’s see,’
As he put on his coat.
He tapped my head and, startled,
Said, ‘Two horns are hid!
How long have they been there?’
‘Since I was a kid.’
(Illus. Doctor peering at small horns among the hair on the head.)
‘Doctor, doctor, doctor,
I feel dreadfully like a cat.’
‘Hop up on the chair
And we’ll have a little chat.’
‘I’m not allowed to climb
On table, chair or couch.’
‘I heard a “Mia-ow”, I’m sure!’
‘All I said was “Ouch!”‘
(Illus. Doctor pressing tongue down and peering at the throat.)
© Edel Wignell
