The ghastly Edwardian Corny County election affair (definitely a fictional Poem)

It was the year of nineteen and four

When Corny County gathered to score

Between Liberal and a Tory vote

In what soon became a political joke

.

It started as a humble affair

The hopefuls took stand to declare

To help the poor, be not so poor

Both raising hands to accept applause:

‘But they can never be rich’, the Tory quipped,

‘However, we can never be sure’, the Liberal called.

The crowd acknowledged each in different parts

‘Twas then the fun did really start

As Liberal looked with hint of envy

At his counterpart, unfairly wealthy

.

‘Don’t vote for him… he doesn’t wash his feet!’

.

A silence fell upon the faces,

looking up at whence it came from

.

‘Well, he doesn’t’ continued the voice

‘And if he takes off his shoes, you’d better hurry up and move,

Else you’ll be looking awful pink, when you’re caught in his noxious stink!’

.

The sniggers sniggered, and laughter spluttered

As the Tory raged and began to utter

‘It’s better than being a hot balloon

Under bedsheets at night, piping out a tune!’

.

Back and forth the insults came

Like rally in a tennis game

.

‘Well the fungus found between his toes,

Is what’s thought offed the dinosaurs!’

.

‘Beware of him at dinner time

He never goes to wash his hands

Along with all the tasty treats

He tops it off with finger grime!’

.

‘See him, it is well known

When no-one looks he picks his nose,

And if that isn’t quite enough

He eats the bogies that he’s poked!’

.

‘You should all go check your facts,

They make fat candles with his ear wax!’

.

‘Without hand or hanky, when this fellow sneezes

Snot flies out, wherever it pleases!’

.

‘And when he takes his wife to bed

He wears his socks and nothing else!’

.

‘Enough!’ called the judge, not sure if this was allowed

A blazing, public, private row.

He looked across to check the clock

And said ‘It’s time to put this to the vote’

The crowd still stood – all open mouthed

Having listened to all that had come out

Judge said ‘gentlemen, last words please,

On why the folks should vote for thee’

.

‘You simply cannot vote for him,

You can’t be sure just where he’s been!’

.

‘This position you cannot entrust,

To a man, who licks the mould off crusts!’

.

And so the debate there did end

And politics shown as a dirty game

.

Eagerly dispersed the crowd

Off to make their voices count.

And when all was said and done

Nobody could contest result

Not one ballot marked for either side

Because the town could not decide

After candidates brought into public view

Things we all pretend to never do;

So, it ended in a draw

As nobody wanted either/or

And why the County Corny vote

Became a ghastly political joke!

.

Just a bit of fun after I saw how Belloc’s opponent in Salford 1906 had a slogan ‘Don’t Vote for a Frenchman and a Catholic!’ I then just imagined a ridiculous personal degradation scenario, something slightly similar to the idea of Newman and Baddiel History Today.

©Please do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

Embellishing Conversant© (poem)

‘Ouch!’ said little sister, raising hand to mouth,

‘What’s wrong?’ I curiously enquired, in reply to such a sound

 

‘Nothing’ said she quite muffled, while looking at my sweets,

Eyes a little bulging, at sugar tempting treats,

 

Help yourself I said warmly, seeing she was in pain,

And like a fish she gobbled in, the bait upon my string!

‘Yeeooow’ she loudly cried, like cat about to swim

And laugh I did until I cried, as I am her Big Sis!

 

‘Oh no – I think, I’m going to die’, her face was all a blush

‘This pain – it hurts: each time I eat, it keeps on getting worse’

 

‘Don’t worry, you are not to die, it merely is your penance,

For being so annoying to me, and now you must repent!’

 

‘I’m sorry’ she cried so genuinely, ‘I’ll never do it again’

 

‘Too late now, your only hope, is a fate much worse than death!’

 

‘Oh NO’ she squeaked, face a flushed, tears rolling down her cheeks

‘What horror lies in wait for me?  What could be worse than this?’

 

‘They’ll take you to a place that smells, and bring you to a seat,

They’ll sit you down and wrap you up, in a hygienic sheet;

In it you MUST not talk, and remain completely still,

Because if you move, you may distract, and she’ll hurt you with the drill!’

 

Off she screamed, back down the stairs, straight up to our mother

Who quickly wrapped her in a coat, and left the house quite bothered

 

And that was the last I saw of her…  until 3 hours later

When in she skipped, all full of smiles, like little alligator;

She stuck her tongue right out at me, then popped in a lollipop

And just to really rub it in, Mum had bought her a nice new top!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/embellishing-conversant-poem/

Beware of the mega-bite!© (Poem)

Last night, my little sister could not sleep

All night long she screamed and screamed;

Nightmares had crept into her dreams.

 

In the morning, when we got up

Father was bushwhacked – Mother fraught,

Both, you see, had to work.

 

At breakfast table, all would come out;

Reasons why – confessions told,

As I appeared before firing squad.

 

“Tell us dear, what made you afraid

To wake all in neighbourhood and grave?”

 

Red faced and frowning, out came the hand

Finger outstretched as she took to the stand

“She told me that the computer hides

Everything in the world inside:

Anything is captured inside of its bite!”

 

With finger pointing straight at me

My ears I simply could not believe

“Not true, don’t listen, that’s not what I said”

“But surely,” said Papa, “that is what you implied”

 

Hammer and screws in coffin to nail

Little sister continued, the wind in her sails

“She told me even, if you are too big to chew

The computer can, and will, still capture you

Dare you run, dare you hide

It gets you with its mega-bite!”

 

What could I say, what could I do?

When all angry eyes stare at you,

I was sentenced to sit alone in bedroom

With only my thoughts and conscience to stew,

While mind muddled how, facts misconstrued.

 

Now sister whenever she enters the room

Stomps her feet with face of doom,

Stares accusingly for all her worth

While giving computer very wide berth!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/beware-of-the-mega-bite-poem/

Gremlins© (poem)

There’s Gremlins in the larder

Gremlins in the fridge

Said my little sister

Who’d promised not to fib.

 

What do you mean?

Don’t try to scare!

I yelled while pulling pig tailed hair

 

Ow Ow Ow! They ate

Biscuits and chocolate cake

See the crumbs, see the pear

She pointed at the cupboard bare

 

If that’s the truth, can you explain

Big brown smudges around your nails?

 

I tried to catch one, but he was quick

In my fingers, his chocolate neck slipped.

 

So what’s he look like, this Gremlin fiend

If you swear that’s what you’ve seen

 

Erm erm erm, he’s about my height, with similar hair

Around him you must take great care,

Be sure if you spy him, don’t try and retake

The yummy food…. or mix me for him – by mistake!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/gremlins-poem-2/

The problem with younger siblings is… © (Poem)

The problem with younger siblings is

There’s always something them to teach

Like when I caught my little sister

Reaching in toilet, to get a drink.

 

It all started when we were outside

She tried to eat – a long muddy worm.

I scowled and said ‘What are you thinking?’

She said ‘Well, they’re good enough for birds!’

 

I said ‘You mustn’t; they are dirty,

They’ll continue to grow in your insides

Until they’re 6 foot and you are fifty

When they’ll finally crawl out your eyes!’

 

She didn’t like that much, so shifted

onto an ants nest to try them instead

But one stung her right on her finger

There’s a lesson that’ll stick in her head!

 

And so she ran off to the bathroom

Leaned over toilet with glass in hand,

About to drink a mouthful

Until I gave a loud command:

 

‘Stop – that toilet is dirty!

It’ll taste awfully sour’

She snapped ‘Mummy cleaned it this morning;

Besides, it smells of lemon and flowers’

 

The problem with younger siblings is

They think that they know what’s best

As elder, I may not know all answers

But I’d surely do better in tests.

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/the-problem-with-younger-siblings-is-poem/

Have you heard of the Helephant?© (fun poem)

Early one, rainy morning

Came the strangest sound,

Where up against a window

Little Borris was peering out

 

He huffed and puffed

Wiping at the pane –

Wishing that he

Could rub away rain.

 

‘Oh the summer is meant for sun

So why is it rainy today?

I got up, nice and early,

So outside I could play!’

 

But still it poured,

Leaving Borris bored,

Wondering what to do?

So, he turned towards his Grandpa,

Thinking that he knew.

 

‘Huff!’ puffed out little Borris’ cheeks,

Pursing up his lips,

‘Rainy days and school days

Are surely the worst there is!

What are you doing Grandpa?

What do you do when it’s like this?’

 

‘Huh’ spluttered Grandpa,

Roused from a mini sleep,

Reaching for the remote control

Turning nothing off TV

 

‘Well, I’m not watching cricket,

Rain will cause delay.

I guess I’ll have to go to sleep

Until they start again.’

 

‘Boring!’ exclaimed Borris

‘Can’t you teach me something new?’

Something that I’ve not yet learnt

That might be obvious to you’

 

‘But I am old, as old can be,

What could I know that’s relevant?

My school days were filled –

with tall tales,

Like the life and times of Helephants.’

 

‘I know all about elephants’ sighed Borris

We read about them at school

I’ve even seen one right up close

On our trip to London Zoo.’

 

‘Ha ha ha’ chuckled Grandpa,

Out loudly to himself,

You’re thinking of a different creature

An easy mistake to make.

Helephants were like elephants

And roughly the same size,

But shiny black, not grubby grey

And of course –

They knew how to fly.’

 

‘Fly?’ queried Borris,

Puzzled at the thought

Of how such weight could leave the ground

And what would happen if it dropped.

 

‘Oh yes’ nodded Grandpa,

But really they would float:

 

Softly bouncing along the ground

Trunk held high in air,

Ears gently flapping in the breeze,

Always seen in pairs.

While elephants can spend their days

Wallowing in the mud,

Helephants don’t like the dirt

Preferring instead soap suds!’

 

‘How come I’ve not heard of them

Or seen pictures in my books?’

 

‘Oh they really were quite rare,

And I expect you’ve not properly looked.

 

You see’ continued Grandpa,

‘Helephants lived long ago

They were all – very best friends

With the Dodo;

But numbers kept on dwindling

Until both were left just with one.

 

When the final Dodo died

It broke the Helephant’s heart;

She decided to escape

And jump her way to Mars.

 

But the thing about Earth and Space

It’s hard to judge distance,

All looks different far away

To when you’re right up close.

So the Helephant she landed,

Not realising it was too soon,

Instead of landing on planet Mars

She’d jumped onto the moon!

 

And Helephants like all things – to be super clean…

 

So just imagine at her horror

When all she found was dust!

She quickly made herself a home,

And proceeded to clear up!

 

But moons are rather musty places

Which need constant work,

And the Helephant began to reminisce

About her life down here on Earth.

 

One night, she finally decided

That she would take a trip,

And secretly look around

The towns where people live.

 

But Helephants are rather shy –

She’d have to creep about,

Not making a single noise

To keep her out of sight.

 

On return to Earth, she couldn’t believe

Stuff people were no longer wanting,

Games and gifts, treasured things,

So she quickly started hoarding;

But it’s not easy carrying bits

Back up to the moon

So she had to change her mind

Not before too soon.

 

Now you must understand this,

About our curious friend:

 

Helephants are not naughty

But she doesn’t like to waste,

She hates to think things are forgotten about

Like her and all her friends.

So she gathers all the abstract stuff

That she can fit into her bag

All of it wasted importance

That once humans cared about;

Like the broken vows of lovers

Which are easily caught in her net

Unanswered prayers, and fruitless tears

Also she will get,

But most important are intentions

Which people haven’t done;

And wasted time on rainy days

When people could have done.

 

I can see you look disbelieving

So next time it’s a clear sky,

Gaze up into the starry night

And perhaps you might just spy;

For looking closely at the moon

You can see just where she’s been:

From Earth they look like craters,

But really they are Helephant prints.

 

Now, you had best, go upstairs

And think about what to do

Or the Helephant may come down

And your day – you will lose!

 

Go create with building blocks

Colour in your doodle books,

Make models that you’ve not made

Paint pictures in your paints;

Read that, which you haven’t read

Check out toys you haven’t played

Do the things you’ve been putting off

Then your rainy day you’ll save.

 

And if you are – still fed up,

You can always tidy up,

Because Helephants only search in mess

Places gathering all the dust!’

 

Up got little Borris,

Who quickly ran upstairs,

Leaving Grandpa all alone

Sitting in his chair.

 

Rain tapping on the window,

Was all that you could hear,

As Grandpa gently closed his eyes

Snuggling down to sleep…

Not noticing around him,

All was quiet and still,

Apart from the Helephant

Who had just floated in!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/08/30/have-you-heard-of-the-helephant-fun-poem-2/

Mummy, Mummy, What’s for dinner? © (Poem/story)

It was back one day

In the merry month of May

When little Borris sat and watched TV.

 

He was a little bored,

And his stomach quietly roared,

So, he went to ask his Mummy – What’s for tea?

 

As he crept towards the kitchen

He heard lots of clangs and clinging

And a ‘Bother’ and a ‘Drat’ came from his Mother.

 

Undeterred, he moved in closer,

While she turned and glared with thunder

So he blurted out quite loud – ‘What’s for dinner?’

 

She stood angrily and stared

Like a big old angry bear

Growling – ‘Go on, get out of my kitchen!

You will eat what we’ll be eating

Nothing extra, nothing missing,

Leave me be, go pester your Grandpa instead.’

 

Borris turned and walked away

But not to waste his time or play

He went straight into the living room;

There Grandpa softly snored

His false teeth gently gnawed

Until Boris shouted out – ‘Grandpa, What’s for tea?’

 

Huh Hmmn, said Grandpa raised from slumber

Straightening his crumpled jumper

‘Don’t you know why little boys

Spend time playing with their toys

Not asking questions about the things

Adults spend time – safekeeping?’

 

‘No!’ said Borris boldly, feeling slightly older,

‘My belly tells me I should know,

That, what and which, I want to know.’

 

‘Well, to find out what’s for tea

Is a jolly little story

That tells us why small children,

Should eat what they are given

And not ask such silly questions

Pestering those busy in kitchens!’

 

‘Go on – go on – do tell’

Chirped Borris, getting settled

As his Grandpa sat up straight

To clearly enunciate…

 

‘You understand…..My boy…. what I shall tell you

Must never be repeated:

A secret you must hold until your death…

For if someone were to find out,

It could only mean the end,

As nobody would even ever

Want to eat again!’

 

Boris stood and crossed his heart

And swore on everything

That this secret he would tightly hold

Never saying anything.

 

‘Long long long ago….Grandpa began….

there was a big old whale,

Who had lived a long fulfilling life

And now wanted eternal rest;

He found himself a cosy beach

And rested on the sand,

There and then he was to make,

His last contented sound.

 

Meanwhile, nearby, a fly did fly,

Cos that’s what flies do best,

He hmmn’d and aarghed

All to himself,

That he had missed breakfast,

And how he wished that he could find

Where he could eat a…….ARUUBBBBAAA!!!!

 

The fly saw the whale,

Lying on the beach

Like a fridge full of chocolate cake

From heaven it must be sent.

And one hundred eyes from in him,

Did shoot out from his head

(For flies have hundreds of eyes, you know,

To spot food to put on their bread.)

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ he’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Grandpa he sighed, and then he tried

The meaning to express:

‘This is the circle of life, my boy,

Which to us, it clearly states:

An animal dies, a fly will spy,

And make it into supper;

And one day both – you and I

Will too – the same fate suffer!

 

‘Huh’ gasped little Borris,

A most avid listener.

‘Is this the promise that I made

Is that the secret I must keep?’

 

‘Ha’ laughed Grandpa fondly

‘No, this is commonly known.

But you understand conspiracy?

Of domination in world zones?’

 

Boris looked a little pale

What had he taken on?

From who was the secret to protect

A new nemesis – for lifelong!

 

Come closer, leaned his Grandpa

For this you must clearly hear

An enemy, who is not all bad

But has very different ideas………..

 

Somewhere in the jungle

There’s a rumble

While the gecko’s tap their feet,

All singing and dancing

Jumping to the beat.

 

The Queen she slowly takes the floor

And stands close to the mike;

A thousand sparkling gecko eyes

All shine at her like lights.

She softly opens her mouth wide

And then begins to sing….

 

‘Flies…

Wouldn’t we all love to just eat flies…

If only someone would bake them in a pie

We’d have fly pie….

Every night!

 

Flies…

Wouldn’t we all love to just eat flies…

To munch and crunch and fill to our delight

In fly pies….

Every night!

 

Flies…

Wouldn’t we all love to just eat flies

In fly pie

All the time!’

 

And here it is, quite plain and clear

Gecko’s dream of domination!

Victory will be

To change our cuisine

And make us eat Fly Pie!

 

‘Euuurrrgh!’ exclaimed Borris

Sick straight to his empty stomach.

‘How disgusting, how revolting

Who would think of such a thought?’

 

‘Well’, said Grandpa, ‘understand

This is not the story’s end

Merely an explanation in the middle

For you to comprehend

 

Remember the fly that eats the whale

He’s got a million friends

He invites them all to supper

Because one fly can’t eat a whale!

 

So they have a little party,

It simply lasts for days

They dance and eat, all day and night

Until they’ve no energy left!

When the party comes to a close

The whale you can see his bones;

And the flies they say, their goodbyes,

And fly their way back home.

 

One of the flies, is so full

He’s now sitting on the reef,

And creeping close behind him

Is a bug about to eat –

‘Whoosh!’ with that, the fly is gone

Wrapped within a tongue

And as the bug he munches

He starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ he’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Later…

Somewhere in a farmyard

A chicken goes to eat

And as if from out of nowhere

A fly lands by her feet

The chicken pecks at the corn

But makes a little mistake….

And ‘Whoosh!’ like that, the fly is gone

Wrapped within a beak.

And as the chicken munches

She starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ she’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Later…

Somewhere in a field

A sheep goes to eat

And as if from out of nowhere

A fly lands by her feet

The sheep she grazes on the grass

But makes a little mistake….

And ‘Whoosh!’ like that, the fly is gone

Trapped within her teeth

And as the sheep munches

She starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ she’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Later…

Somewhere in a pen

The pig he sniffs to eat

And as if from out of nowhere

A fly lands by his feet

The pig he snuffles in the grub

But makes a little mistake….

And ‘Whoosh!’ like that, the fly is gone

Caught behind his teeth

And as the pig munches

He starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ he’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Later…

Somewhere in a paddock

A cow bends her head to eat

And as if from out of nowhere

A fly lands by her feet

The cow she grazes on the grass

But makes a little mistake….

And ‘Whoosh!’ like that, the fly is gone

Caught behind her teeth

And as the cow she munches

She starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ she’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Later…

Somewhere in the water

A fish he swims to eat

And as if from out of nowhere

A fly lands on the sea

The fish he opens his mouth wide

Then makes a little mistake….

And ‘Whoosh!’ like that, the fly is gone

Caught within his gills.

And as the fish munches

He starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ he’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

Surprisingly…

Somewhere near

A big whale swims to eat

And as if from out of nowhere

The fish full of fly he meets

The whale he opens his mouth wide

Not realising the little mistake….

And ‘Whoosh!’ like that, fly and fish are gone

Caught behind his teeth

And as the whale munches

He starts a little song

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ he’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

Bumpety, bumpety, bumpety, bump

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

 

So when you want to know what’s for dinner

You best hold your tongue instead,

Because now you know the secret:

That flies are in everything we’re fed!

 

And there are Geckos in this world

That want to remove all middle-men –

Instead of eating burgers

They’ll take out all the meat

And you’ll be left with animal food:

Flies – in pieces of bread!

 

And flies are little cannibals

Who party through the night

Feasting on the animals

That got fat by eating flies!

 

And if you should pester,

Those busy in kitchens

With annoying questions;

They’ll get fed up,

Not bother to cook,

Fill pies with flies instead!

 

So, later, when Boris sat for dinner,

And eyed what he would eat

He saw it was a tasty meal

That his mother him did make.

He smiled at his Mum

And said ‘thank you – very, very much’.

It all looks very, very nice

I’m sure it will taste delightful!

 

He looked at Grandpa,

Gave a smile at him,

Then stared at his dinner –

And he began to sing:

 

‘Yum Yum Yum’ he’s sung

‘You’ll end up in my tum

I’ll munch and crunch on every crumb

Until I’ve got a big…

 

BELLY!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/08/30/mummy-mummy-whats-for-dinner-poem-story/

 

Humble Bumblebee© (poem)

See the humble bumblebee

Go scrambling along;

How do those little wings of his

Keep him in the air so long?

 

Is it from the Grace of God

Or skilful agility,

Or is he like the rest of us

Just going with the breeze?

 

Does he look with envy

At other skinnier bees,

Or does he look at all the flowers

Thinking of the honey?

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/08/24/humble-bumblebee-poem/

I grew my own Dragon – Snap!© (Poem)

You know when you get a new game

And it’s the bestest ever thing?

You want to play it all the time

Not be distracted by anything.

 

Then along comes little sister,

With her bulging beady eyes;

Demands that you let her play

Already starting to scream and cry.

 

When referee comes to judge

They seem biased to loudest side,

In spite of claims that I am hostage

To crook reeling off demands.

 

‘You’re old enough to know better.

You need to learn to share;

If you want something of your own

You should grow a plant yourself’.

 

‘Eurrgh! That sounds boring’

Sarcastically, I yawned

Mum said ‘How about your own monster…

A Dragon in flower form?’

 

I raised my head – quite interested

‘Okay, what do I do?’

’You’ll have to promise to take care of it…

Or it might get hungry and eat you!’

 

’Ha’ I laughed,

Not really scared

Who’s heard of a flower

That could bite!

 

So out came a pot…

In dropped the seed…

A few handfuls of soily dirt

Until it was underneath.

 

I sprinkled on some water,

Then watched for it to grow…

Exactly one minute later,

Bored, I went to watch TV show.

 

The next morning I rose early,

Excited to find what would be…

A pot full of soily dirt

With nothing else to see!

 

I sprinkled on more water,

But nothing came into sight

Mum said ‘You’ll need to be patient,

Dragons don’t grow overnight’

 

It took years and years… (okay just over a month),

…Finally… to my delight,

There was a crimson flower,

Fiery orange on its mouth

 

I simply jumped up and down

And clapped twice with glee;

My very own pet Dragon

Specially for me!

 

Suddenly, it started shaking,

Much to my surprise

From inside came a rumbling…

Could it be that it’s alive?

 

It began to open up its mouth

I expected such a roar,

Putting fingers in my ears

I prepared to dive for door!

 

Then, through my little squinted eyes,

I spied a furry leg.

Out it came, rather carefully,

Followed by bottom, before head.

 

Out he buzzed, all quite confused,

As though a little drunk.

He flew up and down, and seemed quite pleased;

I suppose that’s how bees have fun!

 

I couldn’t really fight him off,

Bees are good… and have a sting

So, I guess I’ll have to share again

Just like with my sib-ling.

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2019/07/15/i-grew-my-own-dragon-snap-poem/

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antirrhinum

Who’s messy? Who’s fussy?© (Poem)

Mummy says I’m messy.

I explain I’m not.

My things you’ll find, in the place

Exactly where they’re dropped!

 

Papers not in order

Are a puzzle to be solved,

And clothes piled, in a big heap

Is a system yet to evolve!

 

My bed is rarely ever made

In an ‘exhausting’ effort, to time save;

And dust gathers, on the sides

To stop it scattering, if it’s wiped!

 

My toys lie, on the ground

So there’s no need, to get them out,

And books stay open, on the page

So I won’t ever, lose my place!

 

But Mummy still, says I’m messy;

I’ve begun to think, she’s kind of fussy.

I’d written a letter, to tell her my mind…

Please tell me if it, you manage to find!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2018/11/18/whos-messy-whos-fussypoem-2/