Last night we had a dinner guest.
The food was such a treat.
I know you’ll all be so impressed
with what we had to eat.
A light and fluffy cheese soufflé
then lobster thermidor
And for dessert, a crème brûlée,
the best I’ve had, for sure.
But now it’s back to snags and chops,
to carrots, rice and beans
to tasteless soups and other slops,
to normal food routines.
A dinner guest, it seems to me
is all you really need.
to skip an uninspiring tea
and get a decent feed.
You say I haven’t listened
to a word you’ve said today
or to anything you’ve told me in the week.
But I think, in my defence,
that it is pretty fair to say
when I’m in the mood to listen, you don’t speak.
I stare into the hollows
of his smiling, bony face
and I wonder how he looked
with all his other bits in place.
Was he beautiful or ugly?
Was he fat or was he lean?
Was he just a little weakling?
Was he built like a machine?
Did he have the smooth complexion
that belongs to movie stars?
Was his face a mass of pimples
or of scary-looking scars?
The skeleton says nothing
but I’m judging from his grin
that he’s rather glad he’s free
from all that muscle, flesh and skin.
The monster approaching with giant black eyes
looks hostile and ever so chilling.
Its freaky companion, of frightening size,
is certainly out for a killing.
And standing nearby is another weird creep.
This one’s pretty skinny and hairy.
It must be a zombie, it seems half asleep.
I’ve never seen something so scary.
And here comes a creature with blood-coated jaws
whose stare is quite clearly satanic.
It’s carving the air with its menacing claws
and looks most decidedly manic.
A lot more have gathered and formed into groups,
they’re constantly shrieking or grunting.
Assembled together in nightmarish troops,
They’re focused on scaring and hunting.
The treats have been awesome, the feast’s been a blast,
as always, a night to remember.
Of course, the excitement is not going to last.
Tomorrow’s the start of November.
In response to Celebrations prompt
I’d soon be walking through that door,
I’d waited all those years.
But nothing had prepared me for
that sudden flood of tears.
As one who loves to seize the day,
who takes whatever comes,
I couldn’t wait to get away
from all those weeping mums.
Ran my heart out,
grabbed the ball,
triple bounced it,
took a fall,
couldn’t hold it,
lost control,
marked the next one,
kicked a goal!
Her problems started long before
the poor child was pursued
by that conniving carnivore
who treated her as food.
Yes, long before she crossed that wood
to drop in on her nan,
and long before she wore a hood
her troubles all began.
How mortified she must have felt,
and I’d have felt the same,
at having heartlessly been dealt
with such a stupid name.
I tell Mum when to go
and when to stop, at every light.
I tell her she should know
to keep pedestrians in sight.
I say she has to show
she’s turning left or veering right.
I help her with the most important stuff.
Already I’ve begun
to dream of how it’s going to feel
when I become the one
who gets to sit behind the wheel.
I think of all the fun
I’ll have when driving cars for real.
For now, though, back-seat driving is enough.
Great Grannie’s birthday gift
Great Grannie has a letter
from a star who’s never met her
and who wishes her the very, very best.
It’s really quite uncanny
that she wrote to our Great Nannie
but I know Great Nannie’s feeling pretty blessed.
We’re amazed (and who could blame us)
that an idol who’s so famous
was prepared to take this break from her routine.
And although I feel no malice,
I am just a little jealous
that Great Grannie’s got a letter from the queen.
Acrostic poems
Acrostics make me wary
’Cause they set too high a goal.
Restrictive rules are scary
Once they choose to take control.
So though I can supply one,
Thanks to books that feature these,
I’m not prepared to try one
’Cause I lack the expertise.
Australian Children’s Poetry 