Category Poets

Pussy-catWhat are vices?Catching ratsAnd eating mices!

Why is there no monumentTo Porridge in our land?If it’s good enough to eat,It’s good enough to stand! On a plinth in LondonA statue we should seeOf Porridge made in ScotlandSigned, “Oatmeal, O.B.E.”(By a young dog of three)

Philip Le Barr,Was knocked down by a car,On the road to Mandalay.He was knocked down againBy a dust cart in SpainAnd again in Zanzibar.So,He travelled at nightIn the pale moon lightAway from the traffic growlBut terrible luckHe was hit by…

Orstralia—OrstraliaWe think of you each dayOrstralia—OrstraliaAt work or at play.We think of yew in the morningAnd in the evening tooWe even wake up at mid-nightSo that we can think of you.Orstralia—OrstraliaWe love you from the heartThe kidney, the Liver and…

The people who liveOn the Oojah-ka-PivStand around in bundles of nine When asked how it feelsThey reply ‘Curried Eels’!Otherwise—everything’s going fine!

On the Ning Nang NongWhere the Cows go Bong!and the monkeys all say BOO!There’s a Nong Nang Ning Where the trees go Ping!And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.On the Nong Ning Nang All the mice go Clang And you just can’t catch…

The clock has turned enoughto reach a planetLife is endless nightI hear wings beating inthe dark of my roomA giant Raven is waiting— for me to fall asleep.

My sister Laura’s bigger than meAnd lifts me up quite easily.I can’t lift her, I’ve tried and tried;She must have something heavy inside.

A young spring-tender girlcombed her joyous hair‘You are very ugly’ said the mirror.But,on her lips hunga smile of dove-secret loveliness,for only that morning had notthe blind boy said,‘You are beautiful’?

Born screaming small into this world—Living I am.Occupational therapy twixt birth and death—What was I before?What will I be next?What am I now?Cruel answer carried in the jesting mindof a careless GodI will not bend and grovelWhen I die. If He…