Christmas is Coming!

In an effort to curb my natural Grinchyness, I’m going to try some festive poetry over the next week or so…


Christmas is coming, this dad is getting fat
The tinsel’s off the tree and is wrapped around the cat

There’s nothing on the telly and the boys are getting bored
Why is this the holiday that everyone adored?




OctPoWriMo #24 – The Cat on the Stair

The cat sat.
Sat and stared.
Sat and stared upon the stair.
Upon the stair, it sat and stared.

It was a cat and mouse affair.

Without the mouse.



Today’s OctPoWriMo prompt was to search through the photos at until you find one that sparks a story poem for you…





The Buoyant Bubble (poem)

A buoyant bubble floated by
Borne upon the breeze
A buoyant bubble hanging there
In days as long as these

That buoyant bubble bore inside
A hundred hopes and dreams
That buoyant bubble full of wishes
Glistens and it gleams

The buoyant bubble on the breeze
It starts and then it stops
I go to catch the buoyant bubble

It pops


Picture courtesy of / Creative Commons

This poem was inspired by a beautiful haiku by Annette Rochelle Aben – you can check it out here:

Ghost Slug (poem)

Hiding underground
Creeping up at night
This is one night crawler
You wouldn’t want to fight

Ghost slug is its name
Ghostly are its features
It really is the creepiest
Of all the garden creatures!

Its teeth are razor sharp
(Good for chomping worms)
The slimy thought of it
Makes me want to squirm

No Scooby Doo villain:
But something very real
What’s that wriggling through your toes?
Try hard not to SQUEAL!


Picture courtesy of wikipedia… ghost slugs are real!

When The Zombie Came To Call (poem)

When the zombie came to call,
There was no answer at 56.
54 ignored it, thinking
Ethan up to his tricks.

52 said “no thank you”
Without opening his door.
Number 50 didn’t respond
(She can’t hear anymore)

48 through 42
Had all gone into town
40 had just got out of the bath
And was in her dressing gown.

Not a one even noticed
The zombie on their drive,
Taking for granted the pleasure
Of simply being alive.

And that was how it continued
For most of the rest of the day.
Life can be awful lonesome
For a zombie who just wants to play


Picture courtesy of:

Slugs on Broadway (poem)

I’m a low-down dreamer
My dreams are so big…
But if life is a tree
Then I’m just a twig

I want to make my mark
Not just leave a trail
Not be mistaken for
An ugly old snail

But I’m a slug, right
Don’t want no bug fight
Just want a hug to-night

I want to be a star
The only one to beat
Standing tall
On my own one feet

But I’m a slug, right
Don’t want no bug fight
Just want a hug to-night

I’m underneath this hedge
But dreaming of those nights
Sliming down the red carpet
With my name spelt out in lights

Cuz I’m a slug, right
Don’t want no bug fight
Just need a hug,


The Ape Next Door (poem)

There’s an ape next door called Martin,
He isn’t very bright
You cannot have a chat with him
He always thinks he’s right

His knuckles drag along the floor:
His arms are six feet long.
Be careful not to stand too close
(His Daddy was King Kong)

The only dream within his head
Is he can play guitar
While you may hear a strangled cat
He thinks that he’s a star

The fleas hop on his balding head
They do a little dance
Happy that they’re not the ones
Living in his pants

He struggles in the modern world
He’s ill-equipped for life
And if you think that HE is bad
Then you should meet his wife!


For the origin of this poem, check out:

The Man in the Moon and Friends (poem)

The bee in the bonnet
Sang me a sonnet
She sang it to me daily

She sang me a sonnet
With custard upon it
Then danced a buzzy ceilidh

The boy in the bubble
Bounced into trouble
He bounced into trouble daily

He bounced into trouble
Quick on the double
And laughed about it gaily

The five-fingered fish
Whispered a wish
Whispered it to me daily

He whispered a wish
Gave his tail a swish
But still turned out all scaly


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