Funny Poems For Kids – 60 Silly & Funny Poems For Children

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Children, unlike adults, have a variety of fascinating and lovely perspectives on the world around them which we which can be buried by the chaos and fatigue of life. We teach children how to deal with the struggles of their life but on the contrary, sometimes we have to learn from children how to keep smiling.

There is no better medication than a great laugh in the world. So, we’ve created a collection of the top humorous poems for kids — 60 cute and funny poems for kids. Enjoy the funniest children’s poems and lovely children’s poems below, and we hope you have a wonderful time on Poemfull.Com! All is the best!

Funny Poems For Kids
Funny Poems For Kids – 60 Cute & Funny Poems For Children

1, Musings Of A Three-Year-Old © Nida Mathew

How tiring it is
To be three years old.
Sit here, eat that,
Be constantly told.

I would like to stomp
My feet when I’m mad,
Watch Peppa Pig all day.
Is that so bad?

Once in a while
I want to stand on the table,
Fling a few things around.
That’s not unreasonable.

Instructions, instructions,
Everything is forbidden.
All the fancy breakable things
From me remain hidden.

I have many a plan
For when I grow up.
First and most importantly,
Till late I’ll stay up.

I’ll go around in circles
Until I’m nice and dizzy,
Sprint up and down the house,
Send everyone in a tizzy.

I’ll eat all the chocolate
I can find around the house.
Next, I’ll attack the chips,
Then the cookie jar I’ll browse.

Yes, once I’m older,
My wings I’ll unfurl.
Until then, I’ll bide my time
And be a good little girl.

2, Sick © Shel Silverstein

“I cannot go to school today,”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
“I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more—that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut—my eyes are blue—
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke—
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is—what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

 

3, Snowball © Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be.
I thought I’d keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first it wet the bed.

4, Reflection © May Fenn

I’ve heard mum say, and often too,
That washing up’s a bore.
Why she’d often give me tuppence
Just to do that dreadful chore.
But me, I rather like it
With my elbows in the sink,
Stirring up the bubbles
As I have a little think.
And when I start to wash them,
Why the dishes fade away
And in their place a special friend
Comes to visit me each day.
There’s a genie in the saucepan,
And when I make the bottom shine
He shows his great big smiling face,
(It looks a bit like mine).
He likes it when I talk to him,
Yet though it seems absurd.
Although I see him answer me,
I just can’t hear a word!
I see his lips are mouthing words,
But though I strain my ears,
I’ve never yet heard what he’s said
Whenever he appears.
Still I’m sure if Mum could see him
That she’d never say again
That washing up’s a dreadful bore
And drives her quite insane.

5, My Big Fat Cat © Christian M. Mitewu

I own a big fat cat-
The fattest for miles around.
Wherever there’s lots of food,
That’s where he’ll be found.

He’s really good at eating.
It’s a talent, I suppose.
I’m sure if he keeps at it
He’d win the talent shows.

I own a big fat cat-
He weighs at least a ton.
He couldn’t run to save his life.
Yes, he isn’t much fun.

His favourite room’s the kitchen.
(I’m sure we all know why.)
He eats just about everything,
So that’s why, with a sigh…

I’d like to tell you, Teacher,
I’d like to tell you straight,
I might have “accidentally” dropped
My homework in his plate.

6, I Hate Brussels Sprouts! © Cynthia C. Naspinski

I know that stink! I have no doubts
That Mom has cooked up Brussels sprouts.
Of all the things that I despise,
The Brussels sprout would take first prize.

I’ve blocked my nose and tried to swallow,
Guzzled lots of milk to follow,
But I can tell you nothing works
‘Cause in my mouth the taste still lurks.

Once I slipped one in my pocket,
But after dinner I forgot it.
Next day I shoved my hand in there
And gave myself a nasty scare.

In Mom’s pot plant I used to hide
A sprout or two, but then IT DIED!
And now my sister’s learned to count.
I can’t add to her sprout amount.

My dog won’t even help me out.
He will not eat a Brussels sprout.
He’ll lick his butt, eat possum poop,
But to eat sprouts he will not stoop.

Maybe it is just as well
Because his farts already smell.
He does not need a Brussels sprout
To turbocharge what’s coming out!

Please Mom, can we work out a deal
That gets me out of this here meal?
I’d clear the table, do the dishes,
Be your genie, grant you wishes.

I’d clean my room a little later
And feed the dog (that little traitor!).
I’d pull weeds till my hands blister.
I’d even play nice with my sister.

But Mom, it would be best all around
If other veggies could be found,
So we could all just go without
The gross, revolting Brussels sprout!

7, I’m Glad I’m Me © Phil Bolsta

I don’t understand why everyone stares
When I take off my clothes and dance down the stairs.
Or when I stick carrots in both of my ears,
Then dye my hair green and go shopping at Sears.
I just love to dress up and do goofy things.
If I were an angel, I’d tie-dye my wings!

Why can’t folks accept me the way that I am?
So what if I’m different and don’t act like them?
I’m not going to change and be someone I’m not.
I like who I am, and I’m all that I’ve got.

8, Blowing All The Way Home © Marie Tully

Spiders’ legs arrive from mars
Sitting in liquid jars
Bulging eyes mixed with black eyed peas
Surrounded in green squid cheese
Silver fish baked in a pie
Oh, what a beautiful life have I
Bloated blood clots slimley slip
Past your tonsils way too quick
Octopus ink I love to drink
Mixed with ice-cubed eyeballs
Clackety clink
Red ants, slugs, brains and tails
Slightly grilled moths and snails
Waiter! Waiter! I must protest
My maggoty worms were not served in a nest
With belly full my leave I take
Farting and belching make no mistake

9, When The World Turned Upside Down © Margaret A. Savage

The day when the world
turned upside down:
when a frown became a smile
and a smile became a frown.

When the mice chased the cats
the cats chased the dogs.
The dogs laughed out loud
at the pink and yellow frogs.

When you went to bed in the daytime
and got up at night.
When birds caught the school bus
and the cows took flight.

When the moon came out
in the middle of the day
and all of the ocean’s fish
rolled around in the hay.

When the children ruled the world
and ice cream was for free
and the elephants shrank
to the size of a flea.

When the grass rained lollipops
up to the sky.
When you wanted to laugh
but could only cry.

When magic beans were real
and giants very small,
you would eat spiders legs
so you could creep up the wall.

This all happened when the
world turned upside down
after I went to bed
with a smile – not a frown.

10, Ah! To Bear The Salty Air! © Brian A. Bendall

I planned to leave, one fateful day,
Upon a burly craft.
I told my friends, “I’ll sail the seas!”
But all of them just laughed!

I’ll show them what a sailor is,
I had a sturdy boat!
So, I packed a bag with lots of socks,
My cap and warmest coat.

Fresh underwear and extra jeans,
Some shirts and turtleneck.
I had, for sure, a first-aid kit
If injured on my trek.

A toothbrush, soap and bushy towel,
Some dental floss and comb.
A sextant and a navy map
So I could get back home!

A lantern, so to see at night,
And oars to paddle ’round,
Because my sails would fail to bloom
When winds had settled down.

A box load of my favorite books
To read when nights are long.
A guitar I’d always kept in tune
That I might sing a song.

At bow and stern a cannon sat
To fight the pirates off,
And just in case, I made some space
For cough-drops for my cough.

An anchor and a fishing rod,
Harpoons and safety pins.
Bubble gum and rifles, too,
In case a war begins.

I read about the dangers there,
Sharks could be unpleasant!
With that in mind, I brought along
A vat of shark repellant!

Ropes and cans of chicken soup,
Some candies and some mints.
Some rubber boots and tweezers, too,
To pick out navel lints.

Toilet paper soft and white,
All double rolls aplenty.
Leather gloves and cannon balls,
Of those, I counted twenty.

A garbage can and trusty mop
To keep the deck all spotless.
I purchased twenty pounds of salt,
But perhaps I should have bought less.

My laptop and my TV set,
A heavy length of chain.
A manual on how to swim,
And a tarp if it should rain.

Lots of fruit and pork and beans,
My blankets and my bunk.
But, just as I stepped ‘board the boat…
…The ding dang dinghy sunk!

So, lesson learned, I say to you,
If you decide to roam,
Take, indeed, just what you need
…And leave the rest at home!

11, My Cat Knows Karate © Kenn Nesbitt

My cat knows karate.
My frog knows kung fu.
My poodle knows judo.
My turtle does too.

They all became black belts
by watching TV;
some Chuck Norris movies,
and films with Bruce Lee.

They liked learning lessons
from Jean-Claude Van Damme,
and acting like action-film star
Jackie Chan.

They practiced their punches,
their blocks, and their kicks
until they were masters
of martial arts tricks.

You’d think they’d be good now
at guarding our house,
but, yesterday morning,
they ran from my mouse.

My mouse is a crack-up.
I laughed at his prank.
Do you think it’s weird that
my mouse drives a tank?

12, Boisterous Joe! © Edel T. Copeland

There was a boisterous boy called Joe
Who loved to play in the fresh falling snow.
He went sledging one day
On his wild husky powered sleigh,
Tumbled tumultuously and broke his big toe.

13, Today The Teacher Farted © Emma Briody

Today the teacher farted.
It was an awful smell.
It was just like a rotting egg,
Straight from the depths of hell!

She tried to keep it secret
By sitting in a group.
But it was really obvious,
When she said, “Who did that poop?”

She screwed her bright, red face up
And blamed it all on Claire.
But later when I needed help,
The stench was round her chair!

She avoided my eye contact
And ticked my work in green.
But she knew that her body smells
Were foul and quite obscene.

I asked her what that smell was.
She said she’d not a clue.
I hope to God that eggy smell
Was fart and not a poo!

Today the teacher farted.
My word, what had she ate?
I’ll always remember what she did,
And now I’m thirty eight!

14, The Sugar-Plum Tree © Eugene Field

Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
‘Tis a marvel of great renown!
It blooms on the shore of the Lollypop sea
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;
The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)
That good little children have only to eat
Of that fruit to be happy next day.

When you’ve got to the tree, you would have a hard time
To capture the fruit which I sing;
The tree is so tall that no person could climb
To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!
But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below –
And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so:

You say but the word to that gingerbread dog
And he barks with such terrible zest
That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,
As her swelling proportions attest.
And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around
From this leafy limb unto that,
And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground –
Hurrah for that chocolate cat!

There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,
With stripings of scarlet or gold,
And you carry away of the treasure that rains,
As much as your apron can hold!
So come, little child, cuddle closer to me
In your dainty white nightcap and gown,
And I’ll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

15, Halfway Down © A. A. Milne

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn’t any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I’m not at the bottom,
I’m not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And it isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn’t really
Anywhere!
It’s somewhere else
Instead!

16, A Noble Quest © Samantha G. Faulkner

You go to your back garden, as you want something to do,
And a world of wild adventure is staring back at you.
It’s not a place that mum and dad know sits behind your home,
But you see things they can’t see if you’re prepared to comb.
Beneath the big hydrangea bush are mysteries to spy,
Where ogres live and will appear, but slowly ’cause they’re shy.
To travel to this mystic land or venture even farther,
You need to cross the vast green lawn that is now made of lava.
But if you hop from stone to stone and say the magic words,
You’ve learned by cracking clues and rhymes left for you by the birds,
You’ll get across securely, and even in one piece,
But if you mix your words, jump fast so you’ll avoid the beast
That lurks amongst the flowerbeds and sneaks from pot to pot,
But don’t step on the lawn ’cause as you know, it’s boiling hot.
So now you’ve reached the brambles, all twisted thorns and vines
That come to life and grab your legs, so watch out for the signs,
As they know when no one’s watching you to see you disappear
And take you to a place that even ghosts and dragons fear,
But you are not a dragon, and you’re certainly not a ghost.
You’re brave, you’re strong, you’re fearless and more intelligent that most.
You’ve got your wits about you, and more important than that,
You’ve brought you brand new spud gun and your lucky cowboy hat.
So now onto the castle where the captured princess waits,
Guarded by the boglins made of stone beside the gates.
You first must climb the rope ladder and hope it doesn’t break,
Or worse, as you recall, it once transformed into a snake.
You peek in through the doorway, being quiet as a mouse.
You see a stunning castle, not a dusty old treehouse.
A ‘pop’ ‘pop’ of your gun and the guards run off in fear.
The worst thing for a goblin is potato in their ear.
And now to save the princess, that was once your sister’s doll,
But since you flushed that down the toilet, it’s now Bert, her purple troll.
But Bert is still a princess and needs saving all the same,
And protected past the duck pond full of crocodiles to tame.
You can tell that they are peckish and bribe them with a snack,
Which wins their trust and earns you both a ride upon their back ,
Which really comes in handy as the pond also contains
Snapping pink piranhas keen to gobble up your brains.
But fish with teeth don’t scare you as you jump down from the pond.
You’re as brave as Indiana and as daring as James Bond.
With Bert inside your backpack, you head back to the lawn,
With you trainers thick with mud and your trousers slightly torn.
But if you’re required to save the world, mum should count herself as lucky
That the only cost to her sometimes is clothes that come back mucky.
As you stride across the patio, your mission now complete
You’re through the door, your head held high, but still must wipe your feet
‘Cause while giants do not scare you, even roaring, “Fee Fi Fum,”
Nothing’s quite as frightening as a telling off from mum.

17, The Monsters in My Closet © Phil Bolsta

The monsters in my closet
Like to sleep the day away.
So when I get home from school,
I let them out to play.

When Mom calls me for supper,
I give them each a broom.
First they put my toys away,
And then they clean my room.

The Mummy hates to vacuum.
So if he starts to whine,
I kick his rear and tell him,
“Trade jobs with Frankenstein.”

Wolfman used to fold my clothes.
I’ll give him one more chance—
Last time he wasn’t careful
And left furballs in my pants.

When my room is nice and neat,
I bring them up some food.
But Dracula wants to drink my blood—
I think that’s pretty rude.

When it’s time to go to bed,
I hug them all goodnight.
They jump back in my closet,
While I turn out the light.

I’ve taken care of monsters
For as long as I recall,
But the monsters in my closet
Are the nicest ones of all!

18, April Fool’s Day © Kenn Nesbitt

Mackenzie put a whoopie cushion
on the teacher’s chair.
Makayla told the teacher
that a bug was in her hair.

Alyssa brought an apple
with a purple gummy worm
and gave it to the teacher
just to see if she would squirm.

Elijah left a piece of plastic
dog doo on the floor,
and Vincent put some plastic vomit
in the teacher’s drawer.

Amanda put a goldfish
in the teacher’s drinking glass.
These April Fool’s Day pranks
are ones that you could use in class.

Before you go and try them, though,
there’s something I should mention:
The teacher wasn’t fooling
when she put us in detention.

19, My Next Door Neighbor Is A Witch © Samiya Vallee

My next door neighbor is a witch,
And she lives way down in a ditch.
Her clothing is a little strange,
Because she never wants to change.
She has a black robe and a black hat,
Green skin and a smelly black cat.
A big fat wart grows on her nose,
And seventeen pimples on her toes.

But…her food is EVEN worse,
Because she eats it course by course.
Her first course is seven dead bats,
Laid on top of seven rats.
Then she has twenty flies
With lots and lots of llama eyes.
Her main course is a horrible soup,
Because it’s made with doggie poop.
But worst of all is her dessert.
It’s little children rolled in dirt.

Last night she had a witch’s feast
And turned into a greedy beast.
I think she cooked my best friend Tilly
And ate her with some peas and broccoli.

20, The Thing! © Brian A. Bendall

I once set out to make a fiend,
A gruesome thing that no one’s seen.
A massive gore of teeth and claws
With sixteen eyes and monster paws.

Before I started out to cook,
I checked out first my Potions Book.
With some touches of my own,
I knew I’d hear my monster moan.

I finally found the perfect pot,
Huge and black and rusted not,
To place it on a fire bright
And waited for the dark of night.

The darkness came, none too soon,
And in the shining of the moon,
I began my task with hopes to fix
The makings for my monster mix.

I filled the pot half-full with grease,
And so began my monster-piece.
I added pints of castor oil
And waited for my mix to boil.

I put in five potato eyes,
A chicken’s tooth and watched it rise.
A lock of hair, a roach, a worm!
I stirred it so it would not burn!

Beetle guts, hornet’s feet,
Finger nails, rancid meat,
A turtle’s toes, a garter snake!
So far, this was a piece of cake!

Then I put in weasel liver,
A centipede, a caterpillar,
Seven hairs from top a fly,
A horse’s tongue, a lizard’s eye!

Oxen hooves and turkey neck,
A gremlin’s ear (just a speck),
Maggot slime, a walrus knuckle.
It smelled so good, I had to chuckle!

I listened to it curl and tip.
I took a spoon and had a sip!
And as I heard it bump and crunch,
I settled back to have my lunch.

I put the lid on good and tight.
I let it simmer all that night.
And all that day I let it brew.
All next night and the next day, too.

Then, that night, the moment came
To see if I had worked in vain.
I pried the lid with tender care,
Wondering what I’d find in there.

I held my breath, peeked inside.
I saw it…and I burst with pride!
I threw the lid aside, at last,
And danced around the pot of gas!

And through the gas the creature rose,
With sixteen eyes, a big black nose,
Fangs, hair and ten inch claws,
Warts, lice and monster paws!

It groaned! It gasped! It grunted, too!
Just why it lived, I wish I knew!
“It must be luck! A chance! A fluke!”
I chose a name and called it, “Duke”!

“Here, Duke!” I called, with outstretched hand.
Did it really understand?
It did! It did! For Duke complied!
It looked so good, I almost cried!

With happy eyes I watched it slip,
Squirm, slide, slither and dip.
Slow, at first, then like a shot,
Duke turned around….and ate the pot!

It ate the table and the chair,
And my book a laying there!
Then it ate my frying pans,
My overcoat and garbage cans.

My couch, my lamps, my stove, my suit!
I have to say, it did look cute.
But was this the monster in my mind?
Did I create a Frankenstein?!

My telephone and TV set,
But Duke? It wasn’t finished yet!
My shower, toilet, tub and sink!
My sanity was at the brink!

Then Duke stopped, to my surprise,
And looked at me with thankful eyes.
I never dreamed it’d be so wild!
Duke cocked its head….and then it smiled.

Today, it’s eaten all I own!
I barely even have a home!
So, I’m worried by one thing, you see,
It’s that one day … Duke … might … eat…
…”AARRGGHH!”

21, Being Brave At Night © Edgar Guest

The other night ’bout two o’clock, or maybe it was three,
An elephant with shining tusks came chasing after me.
His trunk was wavin’ in the air an’ spoutin’ jets of steam
An’ he was out to eat me up, but still I didn’t scream
Or let him see that I was scared – a better thought I had,
I just escaped from where I was and crawled in bed with dad.

One time there was a giant who was horrible to see,
He had three heads and twenty arms, an’ he came after me
And red hot fire came from his mouths and every hand was red
And he declared he’d grind my bones and make them into bread.
But I was just too smart for him, I fooled him might bad,
Before his hands could collar me I crawled in bed with dad.

I ain’t scared of nothin that comes pesterin’ me at night.
Once I was chased by forty ghosts all shimmery an’ white.
An’ I just raced ’em round the room an’ let ’em think maybe
I’d have to stop an’ rest awhile, when they could capture me.
Then when they leapt onto my bed, Oh Gee! But they were mad
To find that I had slipped away an’ crawled in bed with dad.

No giants, ghosts or elephants have dared to come in there
‘Coz if they did he’d beat ’em up and chase ’em to their lair.
They just hang ’round the children’s rooms
an’ snap an’ snarl an’ bite
An’ laugh if they can make ’em yell
for help with all their might.
But I don’t ever yell out loud. I’m not that sort of lad,
I slip from out the covers and I crawl in bed with dad.

Granddad’s got hair on his fingers,
Hair on his toes,
Hair in his ears,
Hair up his nose.
His chest has got more hair than a course front door mat.
His back has got more hair than next door’s tom cat.

Granddad’s head is silky and smooth,
Not a solitary bristle.
Smooth as a baby’s bum,
Clean as a whistle.
Some say a snooker ball has got more hair,
But his beard hides a smile that says, “I just don’t care.”

22, Messy Room © Shel Silverstein

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or–
Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

23, Cow In My Soup © Kevin T. Pearson

My mom said, “Eat all your soup,
every piece of chicken and every noodle.”
But there’s a cow in my soup.

I need to get him out of there.
I don’t know if he can swim.
How he got there, I’m not aware.

My mom says, “Stop slurping your soup,”
every time he starts to moo.
Heck, I’m just hoping he doesn’t poop

He keeps splashing me with his tail.
My mom says, “You’re making a mess.”
She must have gotten this soup on sale.

I give up; it’s no use.
My mom says, “For dessert,
We’re having chocolate mousse.”

24, If I Were King © A. A. Milne

I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.

If only I were King of Spain,
I’d take my hat off in the rain.

If only I were King of France,
I wouldn’t brush my hair for aunts.

I think, if I were King of Greece,
I’d push things off the mantelpiece.

If I were King of Norroway,
I’d ask an elephant to stay.

If I were King of Babylon,
I’d leave my button gloves undone.

If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I’d think of lovely things to do.

If I were King of anything,
I’d tell the soldiers, “I’m the King!”

25, The Pickle © Kyle Wong

There once was a pickle in a jar
His dreams were very far.
He got promoted to a can
And then to a pan
And on the plate he ran.

26, My Shadow © Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest things about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.
He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

27, Ode To Socks © Gemma Whannell

You saved me from some Bad Blistering Blisters.
You let me know when you need a bath.
I wear you to church because you’re very “holy.”
You help me slide on the kitchen floor as I go Whoosh!
When I see my toe, you say it’s time to throw.
I like that you come in a lot of weird, wild colors.
You are tall and short, large and small.
My shoe has always been attracted to you because it keeps you super snug,
But when it comes to P.E., that’s when you’re not too fond of me.
I’d like to put you in a wool knit Ugg so my toes will be extra warm.
You’re always under a twined twisted tongue,
But when I pull you out of my sweaty shoe you scream “Pew!”
You make sure my piggy wiggies are warm.
When I’m bored, you are my puppet,
And once you’re done you become my spunky monkey sock monkey.

28, Sneezles © A. A. Milne

Christopher Robin
Had wheezles
And sneezles,
They bundled him
Into
His bed.
They gave him what goes
With a cold in the nose,
And some more for a cold
In the head.
They wondered
If wheezles
Could turn
Into measles,
If sneezles
Would turn
Into mumps;
They examined his chest
For a rash,
And the rest
Of his body for swellings and lumps.
They sent for some doctors
In sneezles
And wheezles
To tell them what ought
To be done.
All sorts and conditions
Of famous physicians
Came hurrying round
At a run.
They all made a note
Of the state of his throat,
They asked if he suffered from thirst;
They asked if the sneezles
Came after the wheezles,
Or if the first sneezle
Came first.
They said, “If you teazle
A sneezle
Or wheezle,
A measle
May easily grow.
But humour or pleazle
The wheezle
Or sneezle,
The measle
Will certainly go.”
They expounded the reazles
For sneezles
And wheezles,
The manner of measles
When new.
They said “If he freezles
In draughts and in breezles,
Then PHTHEEZLES
May even ensue.”

Christopher Robin
Got up in the morning,
The sneezles had vanished away.
And the look in his eye
Seemed to say to the sky,
“Now, how to amuse them to-day?”

29, Freddie © Phil Bolsta

I don’t like doing homework,
I know that it will bore me.
But now I am much happier
‘Cause Freddie does it for me!

He greets me at the door each day
When I come home from school.
He just can’t wait to read my books—
I think that’s pretty cool!

I give him all my homework,
Like history and math.
And when he’s done I give him
A nice warm bubble bath!

My grades are so much better now,
Which makes my parents glad.
Freddie is the smartest dog
That I have ever had!

30, Englksh Is A Pane © Alan Balter

Hear eye sit inn English class; the likelihood is that eye won’t pass
An F on my report card wood bee worse than swallowing glass
It’s knot that eye haven’t studied, often till late at knight
Butt the rules are sew confusing, eye simply can’t get them write

Hour teacher says, “Heed my advice, ewe must study and sacrifice”
Butt if mouses are mice and louses are lice, how come blouses aren’t blice
The confusion really abounds when adding esses two nouns
Gooses are geese, butt mooses aren’t meese; somebody scent in the clowns

Two ultimatums are ultimata, and a couple of datum are data
Sew wouldn’t ewe expect it wood bee correct fore a bunch of plums to be plata?
And if more than won octopus are octopi, and the plural of ox is oxen
Shouldn’t a couple of busses bee bussi and a pare of foxes bee foxen?

Let’s talk about spelling a wile, specifically letters witch are silent
Words like “psychologist” and “wreck” shirley make awl of us violent
And another example quite plane witch is really hard two explain
If it’s eye before e except after sea, then what about feign and reign?

The final exam will determine how eye due, weather eye pass ore fail
I halve prepared as much as eye can down two the last detail
I’m ready two give it my vary best inn just a little wile
And then isle take a relaxing wrest on a tropical aisle

31, The Centipede © May Fenn

I’m glad I’m not a real boy
With proper feet like you.
Imagine if I had to put
A foot in every shoe.
For when I’d got each foot inside
And every lace tied tight,
I’d have to take them off again
To go to bed at night.

32, Michael O’Toole © Phil Bolsta

Michael O’Toole hated going to school,
He wanted to stay home and play.
So lied to his dad and said he felt bad
And stayed home from school one day.

The very next day he decided to say
That his stomach felt a bit queasy.
He groaned and he winced ’til his dad was convinced,
And he said to himself, “This is easy!”

At the end of the week, his dad kissed his cheek
And said, “Son, you’ve missed too much school.”
“But still I feel funny, and my nose is all runny,”
Said the mischievous Michael O’Toole.

Each day he’d complain of a new ache or pain,
But his doctor could find nothing wrong.
He said it was best to let Michael rest,
Until he felt healthy and strong.

Michael O’Toole never did get to school,
So he never learned how to write—
Or to read or to spell or do anything well,
Which is sad, for he’s really quite bright.

And now that he’s grown, he sits home alone
’Cause there’s nothing he knows how to do.
Don’t be a fool and stay home from school,
Or the same thing could happen to you!

33, Halloween © Marlena

Halloween is very fun,
full of kids with different tongues.
We scream, we shout,
then we run all about.
We trick-or-treat,
we walk on the street.

Watching witches mixing lotions,
Making weird smelly potions.
Saying “Bubble, brew, boil, simmer
You’ll soon be my dinner.”
Dracula spreads his wings,
And flashes his teeth as bling.
His mother calls “Come back here son!”
While he ducks the sun.
Ghosts love to mourn and dread,
Even though they’re already dead.
They always drift,
And ask if you want a lift.
Athletes are so strong,
Their arms & legs are very long.
They drink their tea without honey,
And enjoy spending all their money.

Halloween is very fun,
full of kids with different tongues.
We scream, we shout,
then we run all about.
We trick-or-treat,
we walk on the street.
Then we go to sleep,
Maybe even counting sheep.

34, The Boy Who Didn’t Like Ice Cream © Rebecca Syx

A boy who didn’t like ice cream?
That almost seems like a crime!
This is the story of Logan
And about trying foods more than one time.

Logan did not enjoy ice cream.
He thought it was too cold.
Too cold on his tongue, too cold on his teeth,
Too cold right down to his toes.

No one could believe it.
“Just try one bite!” they’d say.
He’d shake his head. “No, thank you,” he’d say.
“Maybe some other day.”

At parties, the zoo, at the beach,
Ice cream was everywhere,
But as everyone enjoyed the nice cold treat.
Logan preferred gummy bears.

One time Logan did try ice cream.
Took a big bite, his eyes squeezed.
As the ice cream melted in his mouth
He got a huge brain freeze!

“Never again!” Logan said!
“Eating ice cream is no fun!
I cannot freeze my brain again;
I’ve got only this one!”

No one was as upset
As one man, that is for sure.
It was Logan’s Pop Pop,
The great ice cream connoisseur.

“Please, Logan!” Pop begged.
“Please try it one more time!
Just try a small bite,” Pop said.
“Your brain will be just fine.”

Logan gulped, his eye squinted tight.
Pop Pop was NEVER wrong.
Maybe just one more try won’t really hurt.
He decided to be strong.

“Little bites are the trick,”
Pop Pop winked and said.
“That way the cold goes to your tummy
Instead of to your head.”

So Logan scooped a tiny bite of
Homemade vanilla cream.
He squeezed his eyes, stuck out his tongue
And then let out a scream!

“I LIKE IT!” Logan yelled,
And Pop Pop laughed.
“I knew you would, my boy!”
They laughed and both enjoyed tummies full of ice cream joy.

So what did you learn from Logan?
Remember this little rhyme!
Trying new things doesn’t hurt!
And try them more than one time!

35, Little Princess © Farah Umairah

There was a little princess,
Who lived in a kingdom.
She had so many maids,
That she had no freedom.

She took them shopping,
Right next to a town,
And traded them,
For a new princess gown.

36, I Dreamed That I Was Flying © Kenn Nesbitt

I dreamed that I was in my room
when much to my surprise,
I found that if I flapped my arms
it made me start to rise.

I waved my arms a little more
and floated off the ground,
I rose up to the ceiling
and I had a look around.

I flapped around my bedroom
then decided what I’d do:
I opened up my window,
waved my arms, and out I flew!

I flew around the city
with surprising grace and ease.
I sailed along the rooftops
and I soared among the trees.

I chased a pair of pigeons
’round the playground in the park.
I raced beside a robin
and cavorted with a lark.

And when I tired of flying
and decided I should rest,
I joined a sleeping eagle
for a nap inside his nest.

I woke confused this morning,
and I had to scratch my head,
for underneath my covers
I found feathers in my bed.

37, Night Noises © Alan Balter

My parents’ bedroom is far from mine, so I have to wonder
What the noise is every night that sounds a lot like thunder.
We don’t live near the seashore, but almost every morn
I’m wakened by a noise that sounds like a fog horn.

It’s louder than the sound of barking dogs at night
Or a fireworks explosion that lights the sky real bright.
A chainsaw cutting logs doesn’t make as much din,
Nor did the wall coming down way over in Berlin.

A jet plane at takeoff will get your attention quick,
As will a jackhammer engaged in busting up some brick.
But neither equals the clamor from Mom and Dad’s bedroom,
Worse than a stack of dynamite at the moment of KABOOM!

At last I figured out the source of all the raucous roaring.
It was only good old Dad engaging in some snoring
Mom says: “I don’t mind; it’s really a Godsend
That all that wind isn’t coming out the other end.”

38, Little Boy Blue © Darren Sardelli

Please cover your nose.
You sneezed on Miss Muffet
and ruined her clothes.
You sprayed Mother Hubbard
and now she is sick.
You put out the fire
on Jack’s candle stick.
Your sneeze is the reason
why Humpty fell down.
You drenched Yankee Doodle
when he came to town.
The blind mice are angry!
The sheep are upset!
From now on, use a tissue
so no one gets wet!

39, Pay Attention To Me © Tiffany N. Hensley

Buzz, buzz in your ear,
A bumble bee follows you everywhere.
I am that bee, can’t you see?
I’ll sting you if you don’t watch me closely.
Not to hurt you,
Just to let you know I was there.
Buzz, buzz let me see you notice me.
I only do the things I do for attention from you.
I love you,
I hope you still love me too.

40, Candy Tree Shops © Beryl L Edmonds

If ice cream could be grown on the tree top,
Tiny tummies would be liking it lots.
Any fruit flavour
For all to savour.
Do stop by at the ice cream tree shop.

If only the trees could grow lollipops
With a sharp tangy taste of lemon drops.
Lolly licky-lick
With a zingy twist.
Come along with a skip and a hop.

If chocolate heaven grew on tree leaf,
Bountiful, tempting, delicious to eat,
A smooth, silky, treat
In a chocy feast.
If only they weren’t so out of reach.

If bubblegum grew upon trees that blew
Bubbles in the air, to catch and to chew.
Be nimble, be quick;
Remember the trick.
Don’t swallow, because gum sticks like glue.

All are welcome at the Candy Tree Shops.
Feast your eyes on all the goodies they’ve got.
There are enough treats
For all down the streets,
So come and join the jiggery-jog

41, A Day Out To Remember © Samantha G. Faulkner

Today we’re going to the zoo.
I’m psyched, I’m zinged, I’m Scooby Doo.
My shoes are on, my scarf, my hat.
I’m bouncing like an acrobat.
Come on Mum, come on Dad.
We’ll get there late if traffic’s bad.
We’re on the road; it won’t be long.
Mum says an hour; she must be wrong.
Right now to queue, which one? I’ll pick it.
I’m desperate now to get that ticket.
Through the turnstile, up the slope,
And face to face with antelope!
The keeper leads along the path,
Which draws my gaze to a huge giraffe!
Whilst licking food from round its face
It locks its neck with a suitcase.
No wait, no case; why, that’s a trunk,
But elephant poo’s not what I stunk.
It comes from there – the mud and bog.
I spot the snout of one warthog
With bristly ears and curly tail
Snuffling food from a big green pail
Mum declares, “It’s monkey time!
Let’s snap them whilst they swing and climb.”
Two small ones crouch besides the bars,
Bananas clutched like fat cigars.
Mum reads the guide and then she squeals.
“Let’s buy some fish to feed the seals.
12 o’clock is feeding time.
Then they perform in pantomime.”
I thought the zoo filled kids with glee,
But mum it seems is worse than me.
Dad likes the zoo but isn’t fond
Of bags and coats so he plods along.
He likes the noise and even stench
But longs to find a comfy bench.
His luck is in; we find a seat
To root through what we’ve brought to eat.
Foil wrapped rolls and cans of pop,
Some chocolate from the local shop.
“Stop for breath; you’re going to choke!”
“Come on Dad, there’s lions to stroke.”
“Love, listen close, and please stay calm.
If you stroke them they’ll take your arm!”
“Okay Dad, if that’s the case,
Instead I’ll kiss a gator’s face.”
Mum takes the lead of all of us.
She wants to see the rhinoceros.
She lures me with a red balloon
Reminding me of one baboon
That pressed the glassed and firstly posed
And then turned round, his butt exposed.
But then it comes as no surprise
They don’t make trousers in his size.
It’s 5 o’clock and time for home.
I’m sad but tired so will not moan.
There are no gorillas back at mine,
But Gran smells close, so I’ll be fine.

42, The Owl And The Pussy-Cat © Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”

Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

43, Santa’s Stuck In Traffic © Clara Gray

Santa’s stuck in traffic,
He’ll be late this year.
But that’s not so horrific,
He’s still got his reindeer.
Still put out your biscuits,
You might have to wait ’til May,
But Santa’s definitely coming,
Hip, hip, hip hooray!

44, Who Am I? © Chazz

Who am I?
I am a surprise
I don’t have eyes
I’m wrapped in plastic
I am fantastic
I could be red
But I’m not dead
I could be blue
Bluer than you
I could be pink
But I don’t think
Make up your mind
I’m not hard to find
You could find me in a Milk Bar
Or eat me in the car
I do not walk
I do not talk
But most of all I don’t taste like pork
I am not shy
I do not cry
I will never let out a wimpy sigh
I find myself covered in spit
Then fall into a bottomless pit
Serena Williams likes my taste
But doesn’t like tomato paste
Do not be scared of me
All I want to be is free
I am very nice
I don’t taste like rice
You can’t cut me into a slice
I’m filled with sugar
But don’t think I’m a booger
Do not fear
I don’t taste like beer
But when I’m around everyone will cheer
People will stop
When they see me in the shop
You’ll buy me five times over
Like I’m a four leaf clover
People say I rock
But I don’t smell like a sock
You might say I’m food
But I’m never in a bad mood
I might ask Sam
Who I am
He might say “What?”
And tell me who I’m not.

45, A Tragic Bean Story © Amy

You told me not to fart mom,
so I didn’t eat the beans.
You told me it would smell mom,
So I knew it would be mean
Everyone ate the brown beans mom,
But I ate mashed potatoes instead.
A person who ate the brown beans farted mom
and it smelt really bad.
People pointed fingers at me mom,
and my face turned really red.
I told them it wasn’t me mom
but they didn’t believe what I said.
My friends don’t like me anymore mom.
They say I’m a liar.
As for the brown beans mom
I will never be a buyer!

46, My Shadow © Peter R Wolveridge

I quite often look at my shadow,
I like how it follows me round
And does all the same things that I do
Without ever making a sound.

It hides when the weather is cloudy.
But I know it’s always quite near,
For later, as soon as the sun shines,
My shadow is bound to appear.

I’ve noticed sometimes in the evening,
While watching the sun going down,
My shadow gets all tired and lazy
And stretches right out on the ground.

But then when it comes to my bedtime,
I lie down and switch off the light.
My eyes close, I can’t help but wonder
Where shadows like mine go at night?

Perhaps it meets with other shadows,
Sits down and tells them about me,
The silly things that I’ve been doing
And hears its friends laughing with glee.

But when I awake in the morning
I’m always delighted to see,
As soon as I draw back the curtains,
My shadow’s there waiting for me.

47, I Simply Can’t Rhyme! © Amaab

I can’t write a poem; I simply can’t!
I can’t sing, rhyme, nor chant,
All my words are fumbled.
Last time I read something I mumbled.
I can’t write a poem, I simply can’t!
Every time I try I begin to rant,
I will refuse and whine,
You see, I simply can’t rhyme!

My poems are downright bad!
You see, my dear lad,
A slug can rhyme better than me!
Read my poem and you will snicker with glee.
You’ll laugh and point and say,
You’re no poet, no way!
Then you’ll agree,
For my poems, I’ll earn a negative degree,

They’re awful, terrible, hideous and lousy!
Shocking, dreadful, and frowzy!
Merely reading them will make you faint and drowsy.
You’ll say, go away!
I’d rather eat a mouthful of hay!

You were right, you can’t write a poem, you simply can’t!
I’ll reply, I told you I can’t sing, rhyme, nor chant.
A beast of a poem I created; look at what I did!
Me, a poet? What a fib!

48, Morning Prayer © Ogden Nash

Now another day is breaking,
Sleep was sweet and so is waking.
Dear Lord, I promised you last night
Never again to sulk or fight.
Such vows are easier to keep
When a child is sound asleep.
Today, O Lord, for your dear sake,
I’ll try to keep them when awake.

49, Who Nose? © Alan Balter

Some are as long as hoses
You buy at a garden store.
Mine can be used to smell roses
From a couple of miles or more.

In case you haven’t guessed it,
It’s noses I’m talking about here,
And although I’ve never expressed it
As for mine, it’s unique, I fear.

On a night that’s humid and warm
You’d be impressed I’d bet.
Stand under my nose in a thunderstorm.
Chances are you won’t get wet.

Yesterday I had someone to meet.
The cab drive was the worst.
The driver dropped me at Eighth Street.
But my nose went on ’til First.

Then a jet plane we boarded
Me and my nose, it was neat.
I really couldn’t afford it
‘Cause we needed an extra seat.

For handkerchiefs, it’s really rough.
It’s hard to know what to do.
A small white cloth isn’t enough,
So I use a bedsheet or two.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be complaining.
Who knows where things went wrong?
Certainly I should be abstaining
From sticking it where it doesn’t belong

50, My Dog Does My Homework © Kenn Nesbitt

My dog does my homework
at home every night.
He answers each question
and gets them all right.
There’s only one problem
with homework by Rover.
I can’t turn
in work
That’s been slobbered all over

51, My Kitty © Debra L. Brown

I once had a kitty
who had stripes in her fur.
I could pet her and brush her,
and boy could she purr.

She was a mighty hunter,
and she was not shy.
She’d seek out the bugs,
especially the flies.

Oh, you mischievous little kitty,
with your face in the can.
That fly you are chasing
is now on the stand.

That nasty old bug
thinks he’s smart and witty.
But he’s never tangled
with my little kitty.

He thinks he’s outsmart her,
that clever old bug.
She’ll curl up and wait there
on that big fluffy rug.

My clever little kitty,
oh no, she’s no dope.
She’ll sit back and wait.
She’ll show him the ropes.

She curled up and waited,
like a clever old spy.
Then she jumped up
and pounced on that taunting old fly.

So the moral of the story,
if you are a fly,
don’t mess with my kitty,
or you will soon die.

52, Grandad Can’t See His Feet © Graham Craven

Granddad’s got new glasses,
But he still can’t see his feet.
No, his eyes are not the problem.
It’s the amount of food he eats.

People often stop and ask,
“Is his belly real,
Or did he eat a basketball
With last night’s evening meal?”

One day he’ll surely pop
And Gran will go berserk. She’ll say,
“See what you’ve done, you greedy old fool,
Making me more work.”

Granddad will simply laugh and say,
“Now look, my turtle dove,
If I keep getting bigger,
There’ll be more of me to love.”

He calls himself the perfect man,
“Every Grandma’s dream,”
Then a smirk spreads across his face
Like the cat that got the cream.

Granddad may be extra large,
But he’s a sweet and lovely guy,
The heavyweight champion of the world,
And the toffee apple of my eye.

53, Good Morning, Dear Students © Kenn Nesbitt

“Good morning, dear students,” the principal said.
“Please put down your pencils and go back to bed.
Today we will spend the day playing outside,
then take the whole school on a carnival ride.

“We’ll learn to eat candy while watching TV,
then listen to records and swing from a tree.
We’ll also be learning to draw on the walls,
to scream in the classrooms and run in the halls.

“So bring in your skateboard, your scooter, your bike.
It’s time to be different and do what you like.
The teachers are going to give you a rest.
You don’t have to study. There won’t be a test.

“And if you’d prefer, for a bit of a change,
feel free to go wild and act really strange.
Go put on a clown suit and dye your hair green,
and copy your face on the Xerox machine.

“Tomorrow it’s back to the regular grind.
Today, just go crazy. We really don’t mind.
So tear up your homework. We’ll give you an A.
Oh wait. I’m just kidding. It’s April Fools’ Day.”

54, Summer Camp Souvenirs © Richard Thomas

When I got home from camp today,
My parents almost died.
They asked me how I got this way,
And here’s what I replied:

This little cast from heel to hip
Is nothing much at all.
Some broken shingles made me slip
From off the dining hall.

The poison ivy’s not too bad.
It missed my back and chest.
Of course, I guess I oughta add
Mosquitoes got the rest.

I tried to eat some hick’ry nuts
And cracked a tooth or two.
And all these bruises, scabs, and cuts?
I haven’t got a clue.

I got the lump that’s on my head
From diving in the lake.
I should’ve watched for rocks instead
Of grabbing for the snake.

That leaves this bandage on my chin
And these three finger sprains,
Along with lots of sunburned skin
And sniffles from the rains.

I also got a muscle cramp
And very nearly drowned.
It’s some terrific summer camp,
The coolest one around.

55, Fishy Fishy © Charles Murdock

Fishy, fishy, munch, munch, munch.
Eats his food with a big crunch!
Fishy, fishy swimming by
He just looked! Maybe saying, “Hi.”
Fishy, fishy swimming around,
The mayor of his own little town.
Fishy, fishy, yummy, yummy
Now…he is in my tummy.

56, Sleepy © Abimbola T. Alabi

There is this funny guy I know.
Sleepy by name and sneaky as can be.
I never know where he comes from,
Only that he creeps up on me.

He is very cunning, you see.
He often makes me feel like a fool.
He jerks my head or slurs my speech,
And he sometimes makes me drool.

He can put things in a swirl
So I can’t tell which is which.
And the stuff I don’t want to let go,
He easily takes out of my reach.

Still, a generous guest is he,
Always comes with a soothing balm,
To lull my body and renew my strength
And make my mind to be calm.

When he leaves and where he goes,
That is hard for me to say.
But as rude as he is, I’m always glad
For Sleepy’s sly visit every day.

57, Yucky Chucky Tucker © Kathy J Parenteau

Yucky Chucky Tucker was smelly as can be,
he never took a bath and hardly ever brushed his teeth.
Everywhere he went he left an odor in the air,
and Yucky Chucky Tucker never combed his hair.
His hands were always dirty cause he played with stinky worms,
he never cared if he got sick, he wasn’t afraid of germs.
He didn’t have a lot of friends except for one or two,
till Yucky Chucky Tucker met little Linda Sue.
Linda was quite pretty, an awesome sight to admire
and Yucky Chucky Tucker would give anything to sit by her.
But he’d have to make some changes and what I mean by that,
Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to take a bath.
He’d have to wash his hands and scrub his dirty face,
and to clean his stained up yellow teeth would take a tube of paste.
He’d have to wash his hair at least a dozen times,
to remove the terrible build up of sticky greasy grime.
Then Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to change his clothes,
sprinkle on cologne and find a bright red rose.
And maybe if he’s lucky little Linda Sue,
might take another look at him and think he’s really cute.
Funny how a pretty girl can change the way you think,
cause even Yucky Chucky Tucker washed away his stink,
All to catch the eye of little Linda Sue,
besides, her daddy owned a toy store, now what’s a boy to do?

58, Sweet Treat Dream © Gillian M. Ward

If my world were made of chocolate,
I know what I would do.
I’d make a chocolate mountain
And share it all with you.

We’d eat our way up to the top
Until we’d eaten every drop.
Then chocolate clouds and chocolate rain
Would float us back to Earth again.

Chocolate fields and chocolate trees,
Chocolate rivers and chocolate seas,
Chocolate people and chocolate cars,
And houses made of chocolate bars.

Chocolate coats and chocolate hats,
Chocolate dogs and chocolate cats,
Chocolate castles. Oh, what a dream.
I would be known as the Chocolate Queen.

But there’s one thing that would never do,
And I know for sure that this is true.
An end would be put to all our fun
If our world had a chocolate sun!

59, Musings Of A Three-Year-Old © Nida Mathew

How tiring it is
To be three years old.
Sit here, eat that,
Be constantly told.

I would like to stomp
My feet when I’m mad,
Watch Peppa Pig all day.
Is that so bad?

Once in a while
I want to stand on the table,
Fling a few things around.
That’s not unreasonable.

Instructions, instructions,
Everything is forbidden.
All the fancy breakable things
From me remain hidden.

I have many a plan
For when I grow up.
First and most importantly,
Till late I’ll stay up.

I’ll go around in circles
Until I’m nice and dizzy,
Sprint up and down the house,
Send everyone in a tizzy.

I’ll eat all the chocolate
I can find around the house.
Next, I’ll attack the chips,
Then the cookie jar I’ll browse.

Yes, once I’m older,
My wings I’ll unfurl.
Until then, I’ll bide my time
And be a good little girl.

60, My Brother Can Eat © Ray S. Gordon Jr

My brother can eat.
Hide your fruits,
Hide your snacks,
Hide all your treats.

It doesn’t matter what it is.
Y’all don’t understand.
The boy can eat.
Call him munchie man.

Rice and chicken,
Mac and cheese.
He’s always in the kitchen
Saying, “More, please.”

Just the other day,
He ate all Daddy’s steak.
Just the other day,
He had three plates.

I guarantee if you see him, he will ask,
“What are we going to eat?”
I love my brother lots,
But the boy sure can eat.

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