Category Archives: poems for kids

hardly needs spelling out, now does it?

The journey

The journey
stretches out like an untravelled road
An unread book
A new bed yet to be slept on
A hidden passage yet to be crept
down

The journey
is the thing not the destination
It’s the travelling we anticipate
Like human freight
We like to be moving
We think it’s great

The journey
is in the preparation
and the contemplation
Sometimes the frustration
if the flight’s delayed and
we think how much
we paid

But as a child, the journey means nothing
You just want to be where you’re going to. Now.

(Written for New Beginnings, a Roundabout poetry event at Worthing Library, 28 January 2011)

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Waiting for the gun

Deep breath
First step
Look ahead
Beating heart
Mind set
Ready now
Muscles taut
Nerves sharp
Centre down
Focus in
Waiting
for
the

start

(Written for New Beginnings, a Roundabout poetry event at Worthing Library, 28 January 2011)

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Beginning

Beginning a poem is not a problem.
Finishing it can be more
of an issue.

Sometimes you have to take drastic

(Written for New Beginnings, a Roundabout poetry event at Worthing Library, 28 January 2011)

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First day at school

First day at school
Itchy uniform
That doesn’t quite fit
The smell of mum
replaced by the smell of floor polish
Cabbage
And disinfectant

Fear of
bullies
nasty teachers
food you don’t like
things you can’t do
doing something wrong
being told off
being laughed at

the unknown

Still, what’s the worst that can happen?
You might die horribly
in the crush to get to the toilets
Or be maimed for life
under the vaulting horse
Or have your ears flicked in assembly
by the naughty boy in the row behind
Or be embarrassed by that girl
from next door but one
Or wee under your desk

But hardly any of these happen.
Particularly the death one.

And you learn to cope with some of the others.

That’s what I learned at school.

(Written for New Beginnings, a Roundabout poetry event at Worthing Library, 28 January 2011)

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Popocatépetl

Popocatépetl

This a sound poem which plays with the sound of words and revels in the responses and rhythms they stir up. At the end it features actions which only work in live performance, rather than on the printed page.

NB Popocatépetl is the second highest mountain in Mexico, and an active volcano

Popo cate petl
Poppa cata petal
Pot a cat a petal
Pot a cap a petal
Pot a cup a petal
Pot a cup a petrol
Pocahontas?
Peccadillo?
Pick a pocket or two?
No!!

Pop a pack a kettle
Pop a plaque a kettle
Pop a plaque – and pedal!
Pitter patter?
Paparazzi?
Pluck a pepperoni Nazi?
No!!!

Hippo pota ricotta pepper
Stock a flock a mocha chocca
Tic a tac a picker nicker
Not a battered tipple
Blot n scat n stipple
Pop!
A cat!
A petal …

22 July 2009

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The shortest poem I ever wrote

The shortest poem I ever wrote

It had no rhyme

Nor reason

As you have

deduced

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Attention span

Unfortunately

I have

an extremely

short

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