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Poems for Fun

A few humorous verses that I wrote long ago for fun. I like fun.

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I’ve Been Eaten by an Alligator

I’ve been eaten by an alligator

Or a crocodile I guess.

My teacher told me the difference,

but now I must confess

 

that I wasn’t really listening;

my mind was far away.

I was thinking about the weekend

and the games that I would play.

 

So alligator or crocodile,

Though it doesn’t seem to matter:

Now that I’ve been eaten,

I know one of them is fatter.

Sillies

The doctor frowned and shook his head

"We've seen this all before," he said.

"He sings sometimes instead of talking.

He dances when he should be walking.

He makes strange faces, runs around

and generally acts like a clown.

The diagnosis is quite clear:

We've got a case of the sillies here.

It's quite important not to laugh

if he acts like a duck, or worse, a giraffe.

If he flaps his arms and says he can fly

and makes whooshing noises as he goes by

if he bobs his head with his tongue stuck out

and whispers, or waves his hands about-

don't smile or laugh 'cause if you do

you could get a case of the sillies too."

Tommorows, Yesterdays and Today

Tomorrow, tomorrow becomes today -

a place to live, learn, love and play.

And in its turn it slips away,

and the next tomorrow becomes today.

Then yesterday's tomorrow completes its run.

and the list of yesterdays has increased by one.

So grab a hold of each new wonderful day -

And live and learn and love and play.

Blame the bed

On some mornings the bed just won't let me out; and mama will scold me and daddy will shout- but it's just not my fault the bed won't let me go.

I try and I try every trick that I know:

I say "Look over there, the pillow is loose!!!"; or "I'll be back in minute I must feed the moose."

But none of it works, my bed is too smart-

Though I want to get up (Yes I do, cross my heart)-

Though I'd like to get up, I start sleeping instead.

So when I sleep late, please just blame the bed.

A Box of Dreams

Here’s a box with someone's dreams.

They look a little dusty.

Some of them are hardly used,

and some of them are rusty.

But they’re pretty good dreams-wipe one off.

It almost looks brand new.

I don’t suppose that any of these dreams belong to you?

If they do then clean them up, this dust will make you sneeze.

And when you find a good one, could you share it with us please?

Some dreams are meant for sharing, some are meant just for yourself-

but none of them are meant for sitting dusty on a shelf.

Socks

Socks when you buy them

come packaged as twins, 

identical each to it's brother. 

So why is it then 

when I look in my drawer 

not one sock resembles another? 

 

Who can imagine the forces at work

that beget such great variation- 

from washday to washday they must undergo 

some form of genetic mutation.

The Monster

If I were the most hideous monster

That the world had ever seen,

I wouldn’t have thirty two eyes;

I wouldn’t be slimy and green;

I wouldn’t have ears like a werewolf;

Or have leathery wings like a bat;

I wouldn’t have spikes sticking out of my head-

Or anything icky like that.

No, if I were the most hideous monster

That ever a person might view

It’s easy to know what I’d look like:

I’d look like you.

The culinary habits of frogs

Mosquitos and flies

are a frogs favorite dinner

But if I had his diet, I’m sure I’d be thinner.

Cleaning

I clean and I clean but it's never enough.

There's no way I can organize all of this stuff.

I start to put up the books piled on the chair 

but the bookcase is full so they won't go in there.

The bookcase has animals, live and stuffed too.

(it's not really a bookcase, It's really my zoo.)

I could move them all to my bed I suppose; 

but then where would I put all the papers and clothes?

I could put the clothes in a drawer–but no; 

then where in the world would my puppets all go?

I could move them out- say perhaps to the chair.

But don't you remember, my books are all there.

So I clean and I clean but it's never enough.

There's no way I can organize all of this stuff.

Pirates in the Bath

The pirates have captured the bathroom!!

There's no way that I'm going in there.

I know I need a bath -but dad-

I don't think the pirates will care.

 

They make such terrible noises

that you can't tell a belch from a laugh.

They captured my poor rubber ducky

and they've threatened to cut him in half.

 

The one with the beard and the eye patch

drank up almost all the shampoo.

He said "it ain’t the finest rum,

but I think in a pinch it will do." 

 

They've cut down the shower curtain-

to use as a sail I think.

They've hoisted the old skull and crossbones

and piled gold doubloons in the sink.

 

I can see that you don't believe me,

but it's true, Dad-it really is true.

So as far as my taking a bath tonight-

I think I should skip it don't you?

An Elephant's Nose

There's no nose as long as an elephant's nose-

unless you count Pinochio’s.

He has the most famous nose in prose;

It's a wooden nose that grows and grows.

The reason why? Well don't you suppose 

that everybody already knows 

how the story of Pinochio goes?

Still, an elephant's nose is like a hose- 

and if you see one sneeze, shout "Thar she blows!"

The True story of Jack-O-Lantern

Jack they say, one autumn day

did fool the devil well;

And then and there, did make him swear,

to keep him out of hell.

But when he died, he was denied

his entrance into glory;

And so he roams our streets at night and therein lies the story.

To see at night, he has a light

that comes from hells own flame-

Which burns so well in a turnip shell –

and jack-o-lantern is its name.

This little pencil

This little pencil, small and worn

that somebody has bitten

has a zillion words all stuffed inside

Just waiting to be written.

And not just words, but paragraphs 

of wisdom, rhyme and wit-

While I just stare and wonder how

they got it all to fit.

But a more important question-

I can say without a doubt-

isn't how they got the words to fit-

But can I get the right ones out?

A kitten tumbles

A kitten tumbles when it walks, 

but never seems to care-

tripping left and slipping right 

to get from here to there.

They never seem too bothered 

over where they land or when  -

they just trip and slip and slide 

until they’re on their way again.

A Princess

A princess is always a princess

no matter the time or place:

Dressed up in a party dress

complete with bows and lace-

or covered in dirt from head to toe

with a happy smiling face;

when she’s building a new space ship

that will take us all to space;

or when she’s hot and tired 

from running in a race- 

when she’s feeling awkward

or when she’s full of grace-

A princess is always a princess,

no matter the time or place.

Advice 

If you ever live next to a honest to gosh witch,

let me give you some advice for free.

If she says not run through her garden;

if she says not to climb on her tree-

DON’T DO IT. Or she’ll turn you (poof) into a frog.

Just like (ribbit) she did (ribbit) to me.

Box of Dreams

Here’s a box with someone's dreams.

They look a little dusty.

Some of them are hardly used,

and some of them are rusty.

But they’re pretty good dreams-

wipe one off.

It almost looks brand new.

I don’t suppose that any

of these dreams belong to you?

If they do then clean them up,

this dust will make you sneeze.

And when you find a good one, could you share it with us please?

Some dreams are meant for sharing,

some are meant just for yourself-

but none of them are meant

for sitting dusty on a shelf.

Baseball

The pitcher is ready- he pulls his arm back, 

and sends the ball hurling my way –

But if he was hoping for me to strike out,

then I guess this just isn't his day.

I swing- and the sound as the bat hits the ball,

is like thunder that makes the earth quake;

And the ball is a rocket that roars out of sight

as the pitcher regrets his mistake.

I jog 'round the bases, giving everyone five-

and though this is only a dream;

I promise that's just what would happen today

if you'd only pick me for your team.

Too Cute

Fleaball was a puppy

Who hated being cute.

He wanted to be seen as noble or bold-

Or even a bit of a brute.

He wanted to be called quite daring,

Or elegant, or wise;

Or even, he thought, as the dog

with intense and intriguing eyes.

So he growled, and barked and carried on 

in an effort to scare the cat;

and everyone said “Oh look at him now-

he’s so cute when he does that.”

Making a List

Step one: I write something down.

Step two: I erase it.

Step three: I start over again.

Step four: I misplace it.

Step five: I search and I search.

Step six: I give up and play.

Lists are so good at using up time,

in an orderly organized way.

Broken Mirror

My mirror is broken; 

I mean really broken, 

Though it doesn’t have even one crack.

When ever I look in my mirror 

Someone else’s face always looks back. 

 

Sometimes it’s a boy ;

Sometimes it’s a girl ;

Once it was even a cat.

Sometimes it’s a mean looking pirate 

with a beard and a three cornered hat.

 

I've seen cowboys and clowns

and monsters and kings

and faces both happy and sad;

Some seemed nice and some seemed rude;

One looked a lot like my Dad.

 

But I don’t think any of them 

Look much like me, 

Although it is hard to be sure:

It’s been so long since I’ve seen my own face -

I’m not sure who I am anymore.

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