Tag Archives: nonsense poems

The Scary Boy by Bill Condon

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The Scary Boy

 

Professor Pamela McGurk

was famed for Scientific Work.

It was she who proved beyond a doubt,

false teeth look better in, than out.

 

She also used her science skills

to prove that ducks, don’t pay their bills.

As well she made a baked bean car . . .

with the help of wind, it travelled far.

 

But the thing that gave her greatest joy

was a machine she called, The Scary Boy.

 

It was shiny and silver and covered in spots.

It was built entirely of pans and pots.

It had eyes and a nose and a mouth and hands,

and a motor that ran, on old rubber bands.

 

It was tall and purry and furry and fat.

It had ears that flapped, like the wings of a bat.

It had buttons and switches and gadgets and plugs –

and the floor was a carpet – of Ladybird Bugs.

 

It was big, it was bold, it was brash, it was new.

And the whole world wondered, ‘What does it do?’

She flicked it on and what did it do?

Nothing at all, except go . . .

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

© Bill Condon

Don’t Be Silly by Warren Cox

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Don’t Be Silly

 

Freddy told Matthew and Matthew told Pete.

“Did you know that cockroaches hear through their feet?”

Don’t be silly Matthew. You say such silly things.

Everybody knows that roaches hear through their wings.

 

Andrew told Percy and Percy told Mick.

“Beetles sell medicine to people who are sick.”

“Don’t be silly Andrew. How goofy can you be.

Everybody knows you can’t afford a beetle’s fee.”

 

Molly told Sally and Sally told Mabel.

“Old men sometimes leave their teeth on the table.”

Don’t be silly Molly. It really isn’t true.

Everybody knows they hold their teeth in with glue.

 

Stephen told Richard and Richard told Frank

“The teacher’s got a great white shark in a tank.”

Don’t be silly Stephen you really are a fool.

Everybody knows he keeps the shark in his pool.

 

Fred told Billy and Billy told Dan.

“My next door neighbour is really superman.”

Don’t be silly Freddy. You must have had a dream.

Everybody knows your next door neighbour’s Wolverine.

 

Mary told Margaret and Margaret told Flo.

“These words will make me famous I want you all to know.”

Don’t be silly Mary. Did you leave your brain at home?

Everybody knows that this is just a silly poem.

 

© Warren Cox   2013

 

 

They Danced in the Town by Bill Condon

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They Danced in the Town

 

Grandmother Mulligan never left the house,

not once in ninety-eight years.

She could hardly talk and she could not walk –

but, she still had a very fine time,

oh yes, she still had a very fine time.

 

For every night as she slept, her nose crept away,

and danced in the town with her ears, her ears.

Danced in the town with her ears.

 

Little old lady, Penelope Simms,

had aches in her toenails and all of her limbs.

Her back was hunched, her walk was slow –

there wasn’t much difference from Stop and Go –

but, she still had a very fine time,

oh yes, she still had a very fine time.

 

For every night as she slept, her toes crept away,

and danced in the town with her ears, her ears.

Danced in the town with her ears.

 

Dear old Doddie had a clapped out body,

she was wrapped in a plaster cast.

She could not itch, she could not twitch,

her life was fading fast –

but, she still had a very fine time,

oh yes, she still had a very fine time.

For every night as she slept, her nose crept away,

and danced in the town with her ears, her ears.

Danced in the town with her ears!

 

© Bill Condon

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

The Electricitree by Stephen Whiteside

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The Electricitree

 

Hello, reader. I am me.

I’m climbing up this mighty tree.

I’ll climb and climb and never stop.

I’ll climb it to the very top.

 

I’m climbing in the dark of night,

With moon and stars to give me sight,

And when at last I reach the crown,

I’ll turn around and climb back down.

 

Why, goodness gracious, who are you?

And why are you a brilliant blue?

Colours in the depths of night? Explain yourself! It isn’t right!

 

I am an electric bird.

It really isn’t so absurd.

What did you expect to see

Inside an electricitree?

 

Electric birds? Electric trees?

Don’t take me for a moron, please!

Power runs along a wire.

You’re a fibber! You’re a liar!

 

Hold your horses. Do not scoff.

Watch me turning on and off.

See my colour come and go.

Don’t you like my little show?

 

By jingoes, I believe you’re right!

You really are a pretty sight.

I’m sorry I was rather short.

Electric birds, eh? Who’d have thought!

 

Not just birds, but also bees

You’ll find in electricitrees.

Instead of blue, they’re brilliant red.

See them buzzing round your head?

 

Electric bees I can’t believe.

You must have something up your sleeve!

I’m stung! Oh, I apologise!

The proof is here before my eyes.

 

It hurts! It hurts! Please help me, please!

I trust in your electric bees!

Please, oh please, remove the sting,

And I’ll believe in anything!

 

Hold quite still now. Do not move.

Let me settle in my groove.

I’ll take the sting out of your hand,

But listen close, and understand.

 

When you say they are not real

It hurts them. Think of how you’d feel

If someone said you don’t exist?

You’d roar and shout and shake your fist.

 

Bees can’t shake their fists, and so,

They do the only thing they know.

They sting. But listen, you’re in luck.

Imagine if they’d run amok

 

And stung and stung, and stung some more.

Then you would be very sore.

You are in their territory

Inside the electricitree.

 

Thank you. I am feeling better.

Your advice, right to the letter,

I will follow. There’s no chance…

Hey, something’s climbed inside my pants!

 

It’s got me laughing like a clown.

I’ll have to pull my trousers down.

There’s yellow dots upon my knees.

Help me! Help me! What are these?

 

Ah! I see electric ants

Have climbed up high inside your pants

Events like this must always be

Inside an electricitree.

 

Electric ants? Are you quite mad?

Or do you think a foolish lad

Like me will swallow any stuff

You throw at him? I call your bluff!

 

Electric birds. Electric bees.

Yes, I believe in all of these.

But now I’m shown electric ants.

Do I believe in them? Fat chance!

 

Oo! Ow! Oo! Ow! I feel a fire

On my legs, and even higher.

Help me, please, to put it out.

Is this a punishment for doubt?

 

Of course it is. You’re slow to learn,

And now, alas, your legs must burn,

But here, now, take this little leaf,

And rub it on. You’ll feel relief.

 

Oh thank you, thank you, little bird.

I promise I will trust your word

From now until eternity.

You’ve been so very good to me.

 

Electric birds. Electric bees.

Electric ants. Please, no more please.

I couldn’t cope with any more.

My hand still stings. My legs are sore.

 

Why, we have only just begun!

There’s lots more creatures, lots more fun.

Electric grubs. Electric moths.

We even have electric sloths!

 

They’re very fast. They love to chase

And jump and skip and leap and race.

Why, if you see a sloth that’s slow,

That means its battery is low.

 

Now, that’s the end! You’ve very mean

To fool a boy as young and green

As me. I simply can’t believe

Your tale, so I will take my leave.

 

I’ll leave the electricitree.

My bedroom is the place for me.

I have enjoyed your little show…

Hey, look! I have begun to glow!

 

Yes, you are young, and you are green.

Why, that’s the nicest shade I’ve seen.

What a treasure! What a joy!

We have our first electric boy!

 

© Stephen Whiteside   16.07.2013

 

 

Space Riddle by Katherine Gallagher

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Space Riddle

My face
Is as wide as a mountain.

When I give orders,
I roar in thirty languages
and the stars blink.

I live on thin air
and sleep with my eyes open.

What am I?

Answer: Nobody knows.

© Katherine Gallagher,

Bad Sport by Bill Condon

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Bad Sport

In the hush of night
with the door shut tight,
the toilet bowl goes bowling.
The toilet seat grows big flat feet,
and takes itself a’strolling.

But the toilet roll is a sorry soul
which sometimes goes berserk,
when it can’t cavort in toilet sport,
because of paper work.

© Bill Condon

Bill Condon has published several collections of poems including That Smell is My Brother, Rock and Roll Elephants and Don’t Throw Rocks at Chicken Pox. Bill’s latest book is a junior novel, The Simple Things (Allen & Unwin, 2014)