By kiwisteveh
| Author Notes | Photo: Shelley Scarecrow with my grand-daughter, Keilah |
By kiwisteveh
| Author Notes | Now this is what our grand-parents used to use for motivation - scare the bejeezus out of them! Who remembers 'The boogey-man will get you'? |
By kiwisteveh
By kiwisteveh
By kiwisteveh
When the fairies and pixies go down to the sea
And dance in the wavelets with foam flying free,
What splishing and splashing and sploshing there'll be...
When the fairies and pixies go down to the sea.
When the goblins and elves all cavort in the wood,
Though they try awfully hard to be awfully good,
No doubt they'll be making more noise than they should....
When the goblins and elves all cavort in the wood.
When the wee woodland folk wear their coats all of green,
Playing hide and seek games so they'll never be seen,
There's magic and stardust in glades where they've been....
When the wee woodland folk wear their coats all of green.
When those fairies and pixies and goblins and elves
Keep a watch on the Sandman to see where he delves,
'Tis not that they're seeking his dust for themselves;
Those fairies and pixies and goblins and elves.
When Keilah's tucked up in her bed nice and tight
And Mummy has kissed her and turned out the light,
These magical folk will make sure she's alright,
So when Keilah's tucked up ,then it's time for Good Night!
| Author Notes |
Keilah is my one and only grandchild - nah, she's not spoiled.... much! The picture above of Keilah in fairy mode was taken a couple of years ago.
I'm sure if you wanted to read this to your grandchild, you could easily replace the names in the last stanza.... |
By kiwisteveh
| Author Notes |
Never under-estimate the power of TV.
For those who don't quite get it, Capsicum and bell Pepper are actually the same thing. I know the names would not usually be capitalised - I have done so here to make them stand out more. This is my beautiful grand-daughter, Keilah, clearing her plate as good as gold on a recent visit. |
By kiwisteveh
By kiwisteveh
Now Freaky and Squeaky and Squawky and Bob
Didn't want to be clowns but they needed a job.
'Apply at the Ringmaster's Tent' read the sign,
So they donned their red noses and waited in line.
What a sight to behold, all those clowns in a queue,
Big-Belly, Bozo and Biscuit and Boo.
Wispy-Wig Wilkins was there with his sack
And Jo-Jo and Juggins and Jumping-Flash Jack.
Said Freaky to Squeaky, "I feel a bit frail.
This line is as long as an elephant's tail.
Let's jostle these jackanapes, rock these rapscallions,
You bother BoJangles, I'll mooch their medallions."
So Squeaky squawked loudly and tootled his trumpet
While Freaky stuffed Bozo's mouth full with a crumpet
And Squawky filled up his wee watering can,
Then sprinkled the head of the world's strongest man.
Before you could cry out, "Well, Kalamazoo!"
What a rumpus erupted, oh, what a to-do!
Big-Belly, Biscuit and Boo started squabbling,
While Wispy-Wig Wilkins went widdershins wobbling.
Juggins was juggling while riding a bicycle,
Bozo poked Bob in the bum with an icicle.
Jo-Jo chased Jack round the tent with a rake,
Till the Ringmaster shouted, "I've made a mistake!
I didn't want clowns; listen up if you please,
I needed a man for the flying trapeze.
A chap who can somersault nimbly and neatly,
A fellow who flies so stupendously sweetly."
Then the clowns stopped their fighting and wandered away
Though where they all went to I just couldn't say.
And Freaky told Squeaky and Squawky and Bob,
"What were we all thinking; we don't need a job."
By kiwisteveh
There's one thing you should always tell
Your children, till they've learnt it well;
Don't run with scissors; sure disaster
Awaits the child who will not master
Maxims thus so sagely stated.
Now I think that you have waited
Long enough; let's meet the boy,
His mother's pride, his father's joy,
Haydon Reginald McMurray,
Who never walked when he could scurry.
He was a lovely lad it seemed,
He threw no tantrums, seldom screamed,
He ate his carrots, spinach too,
And even kissed his Aunty Sue
(Despite the thick moustache she grew.)
This paragon, this sweet confection,
Had just the tiniest imperfection:
Though oftentimes he had been told,
Berated, chided, coaxed, cajoled,
He would not slow his impetus
When holding sharpish blades. A fuss
Is what they're making, so he thought.
Alas, he just could not be taught!
One day, with scissors in his hand
This little chap was running, and
Tripped on the cat. The fur went flying
As Haydon lay there loudly crying.
Oh, what a rumpus! What a ruction!
The organs used for reproduction
Were severed quite, beyond repairing.
Then how his parents grew despairing.
They cried, "Oh, no! Oh, what a shame!
However shall our fam'ly name
Be blessed, continued and extended?
The proud McMurray line has ended."
Let's close the page on Haydon's yelling.
The moral's clear; you don't need telling;
Don't run with scissors, it's just silly -
You may do damage to your willy!
| Author Notes | In the style of Hillaire Belloc's Cautionary Tales |
By kiwisteveh
Our trolley is the fastest in the whole darn world,
With a rattle and a clang and a whim-wham bang,
You'd better hold on tight or you'll find you're being hurled,
With a clangour and a banger and a ding-dong dang.
The steering's kinda wobbly and she don't have any brakes,
With a whizzle and a wheezle and a claptrap clink,
But she'll hurtle down the hillside, better hope there's no mistakes,
With a rumble and a tumble and a bonk-bunk bink.
Now the Wilson boys are braggin' about how they're gonna whump us,
With a razzle and a dazzle and a wham-bam slam,
Well, they'd better have a rocket and they'd better make a rumpus,
With a crashing and a smashing and a big, bad blam.
When the starter fires his pistol and those crazy wheels start spinning,
With a hustle and a bustle and a jim-jam jolt,
Why, we'll take the lead and keep it, there's no way that we ain't winning
With a crickle and a crackle like a lightning bolt!
| Author Notes | oops! just realised I have exceeded the maximum line count. If this upsets anyone, please omit the third stanza! |
By kiwisteveh
~ " ~
Miss Annabel Evelyn Forsyte-Jones
was spoilt to the umpteenth wazoo.
She'd mountains of cake, red fizz in a lake.
~ Bet you would like some of that, too.
Whenever Annabel had a desire
she'd wish and it simply came true;
a chocolate eclair, a trip to the fair;
~ Oh, my, don't you wish it were you!
Miss Annabel's house was so full of pets
they called it the Forsyte-Jones Zoo.
They flew and flurried, scampered and scurried,
~ I'd like a pet snake, wouldn't you?
Annabel said that she wanted to fly
so they bought her a plane and she flew.
She visited Spain, caught rain on the plain.
~ I do wish I could have gone too.
Annabel's dolls had a house of their own
with a sauna, a lounge and a loo.
A chauffeured Rolls-Royce gave cause to rejoice
~Do you like it? It's red, white and blue.
Annabel grew quite alarmingly fat
on her diet of cake, fizz and goo,
yet seemed to thrive to one hundred and five.
~ How she did it, I haven't a clue!
~ " ~
By kiwisteveh
Grampa says, so it must be true
The seas and oceans once were blue,
Grampa says that lakes were seen
All crystal clear, not gooey green.
Grampa says when he was small
They'd winter, summer, spring and fall.
Grampa says they used to eat
'Fruit' and 'vegetables' and 'meat'.
Grampa says that in his day
Folk rode in 'cars' on a 'motorway'.
Grampa says that till Earth browned,
People lived above the ground.
Grampa says, and I don't doubt
He knows what he is on about,
Grampa says there used to be
A living thing they called a 'tree'.
Grampa says that since his birth
We've swiftly trashed our mother Earth
Grampa says it's in the stars
That next we'll take our trash to Mars.
By kiwisteveh
Rumpety-Pumpety, Pum-Pum-Pum,
Here comes Timothy banging his drum.
Clangety-Bangety-Bang times ten
Timothy's in the pot cupboard again.
A roar and a howl and a squeak and a moo,
Timothy's starting his own private zoo.
Ker-ching and Ker-chow and a rat-a-tat-tat
Timothy's shooting the baddies like that.
Pots and a drum and a gun and a zoo,
Timothy, Timothy, Timothy's two!
Now crashing and splashing and volcano's blast
are over. Thank goodness it's bedtime at last!
By kiwisteveh
When the grimulous grobsters are plarking their mench
And the gulbats are twicking on toeses
You can bet they're upstoggled by men who are hench
Of the kind that would never smell roses.
"I can see," said Marshmallow, "that the world needs a fellow
Who's sticky and tasty and pink.
These gulbats and grobsters are mufficle mobsters
And shtooker than most people think."
"But if I have my way, at the end of the day
Their twicking and plarking will cease.
They'll twick no more toeses, they'll learn to smell roses;
Upstoggling shall give way to peace!"
A rotund sort of bloke, young Pumpkin, then spoke.
"Well said, my sweet friend, it's appalling
That this grimulous lot can squinch all that we've got.
It's abhorrent and awful and galling!"
Though my skin is quite thick I'm aghast when they twick;
A deep sense of woe it betides.
The mench that they've plarked all my fury has sparked;
It unsettles my seedy insides."
So the unlikely pair made a pledge then and there
That the mufficle henchmen they'd seek.
They purchased a battery, oiled it with flattery
And practised each day for a week.
With method historical they next bought a coracle
For two pounds and three pints of beer,
Though this curious craft had no fore and no aft
And neither knew quite how to steer.
With a sail rather frayed from a table-cloth made,
Some leeks and a bucket of jello,
Our duo set forth t'ward the hazardous north
Crew Pumpkin and Captain Marshmallow.
"I see by your cheek we've been sailing a week,"
Said the captain (who was also a barber).
"It behoves me to say, if we go on this way,
We will soon make it out of the harbour."
For a year and six weeks on a diet of leeks,
The crew of the good ship 'Courageous'
Fought mufficle mobsters, the gulbats and grobsters,
With skill and panache most outrageous.
Now the grimulous grobsters no more plark their mench
And the gulbats don't twick on our toeses;
There's no more upstoggling by men who are hench
Who now spend their time smelling roses.
By kiwisteveh
When Scotland yard can't seem to see
Just who the mastermind might be,
I say, 'It's elementary!'
They come to me, they come to me.
Now I'm King Arthur's bravest knight.
With sword and shield I put to flight
All villains who oppose his might.
For right we fight, for right we fight.
Neath Sherwood's green and pleasant wood
I rob the rich to help the good.
An outlaw who's misunderstood,
I'm Robin Hood, I'm Robin Hood.
Life for me's on the ocean wave;
My ship lies deep in Pirates' Cave.
Many a maiden I will save,
A captain brave, a captain brave.
In London street, beneath a tree,
In Camelot or out at sea,
Just look, it's almost half past three.
It's time for tea. It's time for tea.
| Author Notes | 'elementary' 5 syllables |
By kiwisteveh
I almost dressed myself today, a clever little stunt;
My underpants were inside-out, my shirt was back to front.
I almost helped to pull some weeds from our new garden bed;
It seems the plants that I pulled out were lettuces instead.
I almost lost my Mommy in the supermarket aisles.
I would have had to walk back home, one million-squillion miles.
I almost ate a fuzzy worm as my new sandwich filler;
My Daddy says he's really called a 'Bleedin' caterpillar!'
I almost drove my Daddy's car, it rolled into the wall;
He says we'll prob'ly pay it off by sometime in the Fall.
I almost got the painter fired who came to paint the fence;
He said he only tied me up as basic self-defence.
I almost taught the pussy-cat to be the dog's best friend;
The vet says that the broken leg will 'ventually mend.
I almost flied like Superman from off the carport roof;
The doctor at the clinic said, 'We'll fiksh your miffing toof.'
I almost caught my Mom and Dad playing games in bed;
I really mustn't tell you all the horrid words they said.
I almost cooked the dinner; all the vegetables I choppeded;
Tell me why is Mommy googling 'How to get your child adopted?'
| Author Notes | None of my children were like this ..... much! |
By kiwisteveh
| Author Notes |
This is a revived post from a couple of years ago.
I have been collecting most of my children's poetry together into one book called 'Steve's Poems for Kids' and have chosen this one from near the end of the book as an introduction. Feel free to browse through the rest of the book. |
By kiwisteveh
In the forest, 'neath the trees
Where fairies ride on bumble-bees,
Sparkling gems and gleaming gold
Lie hidden in a toadstool's fold.
Little folk with shining wings
Frolic through the magic rings
And peals of laughter fill the glade
From tinkling voices unafraid.
Here romps Puck with all his wiles
And green-clad imps with cheeky smiles,
While elfin faces slyly peek
In hectic games of hide and seek.
Naiads slide down rainbow beams
To mossy banks near crystal streams,
Where dancing droplets sweetly shower
Bluebell blooms and foxglove flower.
Gentle zephyrs, soft as sighs,
Or gossamer wings of dragonflies,
Stir petals laced with soft perfumes
From myriads of scented blooms.
On blushing buds of rambling rose,
Sprites cavort with twinkling toes,
As lissome ladies, agile men,
Caper through the darkling glen.
Now the daylight starts to fade,
As Sirens softly serenade.
Pixie people dance and shimmer
In radiance of moonbeams' glimmer.
Midnight calls, the witching hour,
A change comes on the fairy bower;
With silvery shards the forest gleams,
And spirits all, drift off to dreams.
By kiwisteveh
Behind that door fierce ogres hide
With fangs as sharp as nails.
Their eyes are red, their noses wide,
They've spikes upon their tails.
Beside them lurk six awful orcs
(The kind that Frodo fears)
Their fingers sharp like dinner forks,
There's hair inside their ears.
A hairy Yeti-Sasquatch man
Is inside, standing guard.
The ugliest thing since time began;
His face is burnt and scarred.
A gnome, a goblin and a ghoul,
Three were-wolves and a witch,
A basilisk with stare so cruel,
Two snakes with tongues that twitch,
A banshee and a bandersnatch,
A Jabberwock or three,
With slithy skin and claws that catch,
All want a bite of me.
So don't you see, for all our sake
It's best to stay away.
And it's too bad I'll have to take
My bath some other day!
By kiwisteveh
Listen, children, if you dare,
For there's a secret I must share.
Come closer now and hold my hand;
Grown-ups wouldn't understand.
Don't tell your Mom, don't tell your Dad,
They may get cross, they may get mad.
Don't even tell your baby-sitters,
This house is full of crazy critters.
When Mother swept the floor last week
Did you detect the smallest squeak?
Well that's because within her broom
Abides a baby Babaroom.
And in the dust behind the doors
Do dwell a dozen Dozeyvores.
More shimmering Shufties than you'd think
Infest the soap-suds in the sink.
Beneath the carpets and the rugs
Dance jiving little Jabberbugs.
Behind the curtains, if you please,
Lurk lots of lacy Lonjarees!
And see your father's favourite chair?
Cheeky Chuckaroos chatter there.
Those pictures on the wall all hide
Speruckles (though they can't be spied)
If you flop down upon the couch
You're sure to hear the faintest 'Ouch!'
No crying, please, no screams, no shouts;
It's just the swarms of Snuffle-Snouts.
In that dark space beneath your bed
Slithers a silvery Slipperhead,
And tinier than the smallest midge,
A purple Pudgy's in your fridge.
You think that's all? You think I'm done?
There's lots more critters having fun.
In every cranny, every nook,
Upon each shelf, inside each book,
In the bathroom, on the stair,
Inside that cupboard over there.
Though you may think it can't be true,
You're living in a Critter Zoo.
Now please don't fly into a rage,
Could you just step into this cage?
Sweet Kiddie-Boppers, that's perfection,
The final Critters in my collection.
| Author Notes | No Critters were harmed in the composition of this poem (not even the sweet Kiddie-Boppers) |
By kiwisteveh
There's a frog in my mailbox
And one in the loo.
There are geckos in the bathroom
And in the kitchen too.
There's a cheeky willy wagtail,
Who chatters in the bath.
There's a kookaburra up a tree,
Who wakes us with his laugh.
There are peewees who come calling,
When Dad starts to mow the lawn.
There's a friarbird in the bottlebrush,
Who squeaks and squawks at dawn.
There's a tiny little sunbird
Building her dangling nest.
There are lorikeets in the umbrella tree,
Noisier than all the rest.
I love the birds and animals,
But when all's done and said,
I wish I could get rid of
The python in my bed!
| Author Notes |
I ran out of time to complete the entry I planned for this contest, so here's a simple poem for young children I wrote earlier. I envisage this as a child's picture book, if only I could find a willing artist!
The birds and animal described are all common to Far North Queensland (Australia) where I live. Try googling them if you are not sure. |
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