80 Poems Read online

  With real china plates

  He’s brilliant at poetry

  He’s brilliant at rhyme

  He’s brilliant at lessons

  He comes top every time

  He’s Brilliant just Brilliant

  With a capital B

  (Although he’s only average

  In comparison with me).

  Imaginary Friend

  I’ve got a friend

  no one can see

  That nobody hears

  only me

  He’s not a ghost

  or anything scary

  A cartoon rabbit

  or a wicked fairy

  He’s hard to describe

  (looks a bit like me)

  Though bigger and stronger

  like I want to be

  He’s there each morning

  and throughout the day

  We watch telly together

  read or play

  There are jokes to tell

  and secrets to share

  When I’m not well

  it’s good that he’s there

  We seldom argue

  we never fight

  (Because I’m the one

  who’s always right)

  I know he’s not real

  it’s only pretend

  And I’ll grow out of him

  in the end

  For when I’m older

  I intend

  To find an

  un-imaginary friend.

  Bubble Trouble

  The trouble with Bobby is bubbles

  Been his hobby since he was a boy

  When Santa brought him a bubble

  One Christmas instead of a toy

  Since then he has tried to recapture

  The magic of that shimmering sphere

  And decided the blowing of bubbles

  Would be his chosen career

  Fairy Liquid he pours on his cornflakes

  Scented soap he spreads on his toast

  To be undisputed world champion

  ‘A billion I’ll blow!’ his proud boast

  Golden globes, silver orbs and Belishas

  All manner of ball he creates

  And with a fair wind behind him

  A small zeppelin our hero inflates

  But the trouble with all of his bubbles

  Though perfect in every way

  Though fashioned with love and attention

  (And we’re talking a thousand a day)

  These incandescent flotillas

  These gravitational blips

  These would-be orbiting planets

  Within seconds of leaving his lips

  Go Just like that

  The Tongue-twister

  Watch out for the dreaded Tongue-twister

  When he pulls on his surgical gloves.

  Keep your eyes open, your mouth tightly shut,

  Twisting tongues is the thing that he loves.

  It’s the slippery, squirmy feel of them

  As they wriggle like landed fish.

  When he pulls and tugs and grapples

  You’ll gasp and gargle and wish

  That you’d never pulled tongues at teacher

  Or a stranger behind their back,

  As he twists out your tongue and pops it

  Into his bobbling, twisted-tongue sack.

  M. Barra-Sing

  Sir asks a question

  you really should know

  You give the wrong answer

  three times in a row

  Who’s the one who points the finger?

  M. Barra-Sing

  Texting coolly

  down the street

  You drop your mobile

  at your feet

  Who’s the one who starts the laughter?

  M. Barra-Sing

  The deejay plays

  your favourite track

  You get up to dance

  fall flat on your back

  Who’s the one you’d like to strangle?

  M. Barra-Sing

  Who makes you blush

  from ear to ear?

  Who makes you want

  to disappear?

  Who’s to blame for everything?

  M. Barra-Sing.

  The Going Pains

  Before I could even understand

  The meaning of the word ‘command’

  I’ve had them. The going pains.

  Go to your room

  Go to bed

  Go to sleep

  Twinges that warned of trouble in store

  And once in the classroom, the more

  I felt them. The going pains.

  Go to the back

  Go and start again

  Go to the Headmaster

  From year to year I hear it grow

  The unrelenting list of GO.

  That bossy word that rhymes with NO

  Still can hurt. The going pains.

  Go

  Go now

  Why don’t you just go.

  A Poem Just for Me

  Where am I now when I need me

  Suddenly where have I gone

  I’m so alone here without me

  Tell me please what have I done?

  Once I did most things together

  I went for walks hand in hand

  I shared my life so completely

  I met my every demand.

  Tell me I’ll come back tomorrow

  I’ll keep my arms open wide

  Tell me that I’ll never leave me

  My place is here at my side.

  Maybe I’ve simply mislaid me

  Like an umbrella or key

  So until the day that I come my way

  Here is a poem just for me.

  Emus

  To amuse

  emus

  on warm summer nights

  Kiwis

  do wiwis

  from spectacular heights.

  Bee’s Knees

  Ever seen a bee slip?

  Ever kissed a bee’s lip?

  Ever felt a bee slap?

  Ever sat on a bee’s lap?

  Ever made a bee start?

  Ever eaten bee’s tart?

  (rose petals and honey)

  Ever told a bee ‘Stop!’

  Ever spun a bee’s top?

  Ever heard a bee sneeze?

  Ever tickled bee’s knees?

  Nor me.

  You Tell Me

  When it takes a well-earned rest

  Is it still a busy bee?

  When a woodcutter chops it down

  Is it still a tree?

  Do ships wrecked on rugged rocks

  Ever forgive the sea?

  If it makes them smooth and soft

  Would you rub your hands with Glee?

  Questions, questions, questions

  I’ve no idea, you tell me.

  If you met a tiger in the woods

  Would you invite it home for tea?

  Would you cuddle a triceratops

  Or scream out loud and flee?

  Do locks at the end of a boring day

  Look forward to the key?

  If you found a rattlesnake in a baby’s cot

  Would you shake it or set it free?

  Questions, questions, questions

  I give in. You tell me.

  Simple Questions

  Is a well-wisher someone

  Who wishes at a well?

  Is a bad speller one

  Who casts a wicked spell?

  Is a pop singer someone

  Who sings and then pops?

  Is a shoplifter a giant

  Who goes round lifting shops?

  Is a night nurse a nurse

  Who looks after the night?

  Who puts it to bed

  And then turns out the light?

  Is a potholer a gunman

  Who shoots holes in pots?

  Does a babysitter really

  Sit on tiny tots?

  D
oes a pony trap

  Trap ponies going to the fair?

  Is fire-hose stockings

  That firemen wear?

  Is a fly fisherman an angler

  Who fishes for flies?

  Is an eye-opener a gadget

  For opening eyes?

  Is a light bulb a bulb

  That is light as a feather?

  Does an opera buff sing

  In the altogether?

  Does a lightning conductor

  Conduct orchestras fast?

  Is a past master a master

  Who has mastered the past?

  Is a scratch team so itchy

  It scratches?

  When a bricklayer lays a brick

  What hatches?

  Is a waiting room a room

  That patiently waits?

  Is a gatekeeper’s hobby

  Collecting gates?

  Is a prayer mat a carpet

  That sings hymns and prays?

  Is a horsefly a fly

  That gallops and neighs?

  Will a pain killer kill you

  In terrible pain?

  Is a rain hood a gangsta

  Who sings in the rain?

  Is a card sharp a craftsman

  Who sharpens cards?

  Who guards women

  When a guardsman guards?

  Is a tree surgeon a doctor

  Who is made out of wood?

  Is a blood donor pitta bread

  Stuffed with blood?

  Is a sickbed a bed

  That is feeling unwell?

  Is a crime wave a criminal’s

  Wave of farewell?

  Is a bent copper a policeman

  Who has gone round the bend?

  Is the bottom line the line

  On your bottom?

  THE END

  Words

  Like birds

  who dream of eggs

  before laying them

  Words

  I try to weigh

  before saying them.

  Give and Take

  I give you clean air

  You give me poisonous gas.

  I give you mountains

  You give me quarries.

  I give you pure snow

  You give me acid rain.

  I give you spring fountains

  You give me toxic canals.

  I give you a butterfly

  You gave me a plastic bottle.

  I give you a blackbird

  You gave me a stealth bomber.

  I give you abundance

  You give me waste.

  I give you one last chance

  You give me excuse after excuse.

  The Man Who Steals Dreams

  Santa Claus has a brother

  A fact few people know

  He does not have a friendly face

  Or a beard as white as snow

  He does not climb down chimneys

  Or ride in an open sleigh

  He is not kind and giving

  But cruelly takes away

  He is not fond of children

  Or grown-ups who are kind

  And emptiness the only gift

  That he will leave behind

  He is wraith, he is silent

  He is greyness of steam

  And if you’re sleeping well tonight

  Then hang on to your dream

  He is sour, he is stooping

  His cynic’s cloak is black

  And if he takes your dream away

  You never get it back

  Dreams with happy endings

  With ambition and joy

  Are the ones that he seeks

  To capture and destroy

  So, if you don’t believe in Santa

  Or in anything at all

  The chances are his brother

  Has already paid a call.

  Tomorrow Has Your Name On It

  Tomorrow has your name on it

  It’s written up there in the sky

  As you set out on a journey

  In search of the How? and the Why?

  Oh the people you’ll meet

  The bright and the mad

  The sights to be seen

  The fun to be had.

  Oh the dreams that you’ll dream

  The chances you’ll take

  The prizes you’ll win

  The hands that you’ll shake.

  But don’t let your dreams

  Get too big for their boots

  Don’t hanker after the flimflam of fame

  If you hunger for mere celebrity

  You’ll be drawn like a moth to the flame.

  For having dreams is not enough;

  You must get down and do your stuff.

  Take the ready with the rough.

  Ride the punches, and my hunch is

  You’ll succeed when life gets tough.

  And it will.

  Bullies will want to bully you

  For that’s what bullies do

  And you’ll feel small and miserable

  (Don’t worry, I would too).

  Even Big Bad Wolves have nightmares,

  One of the reasons they howl at the moon.

  Being scared is Nature’s medicine.

  Not nice, but it’s over soon.

  There’ll be days you’re made to feel foolish

  When your head seems made out of wood

  When you blush, mumble and shuffle

  Feel embarrassed and misunderstood.

  Things will get lost or stolen

  Life doesn’t turn out as you’d planned

  You get sick and then you get better –

  What’s gone wrong? You can’t understand.

  Take your time.

  Sing your own songs and laugh out loud.

  Weep, if you need to

  But away from the crowd.

  Disappointments will ebb and flow

  Like the tide upon the shore

  But an angry storm will quickly go

  And the sun rise up once more.

  Oh the dreams that you’ll dream

  The promises you’ll make

  The friends that you find

  Whom you’ll never forsake.

  Oh the dreams that you’ll dream

  May the good ones come true.

  Being young is an adventure

  How I wish I were you.

  Today is the tomorrow we worried about

  Yesterday and all last night.

  And as days go, as days they do.

  It seemed to go all right.

  So dream your dreams and journey

  Be tomorrow foul or fine

  So you can say at the end of it

  ‘Amazing! Today was mine.’

  As Young as You Feel

  I’d be the first to swim the Channel in a tutu

  The first to climb Mount Everest eating fire

  The first to cross the vast Saharan desert

  Barefoot on a tightrope of barbed wire.

  I’d be the first to win the Ladies Open Doubles

  At Wimbledon, at tennis, on my own

  The first to catch a fierce and mighty dragon

  Whose roar is now the ringtone on my phone.

  I’d be the first to surf Down Under underwater

  On the belly of a hammer-headed shark

  Race an alligator up an escalator

  Go camping with vampires after dark.

  I’d be the first to skateboard to the South Pole

  South polar bears all marvelling at my skill

  The first to hang-glide all the way to Venus

  And get back quick, because it’s all downhill.

  I’d be the first to leapfrog Blackpool Tower

  Clear Grand Canyon in one almighty leap

  Dream about the FA Cup at Wembley

  Score the winning goal while walking in my sleep.

  I’d be the first in all these things

  So it’s painful to reveal


  That maybe now I’m far too old

  (Though they say you’re as young as you feel).

  ‘Roger McGough is a true original and more than one generation would be much the poorer without him’ – The Times Educational Supplement

  ‘… A collection that works well on the page and is a delight to read aloud’ – Guardian

  ‘Michael Rosen is one of our most popular writers – the champion for every bored, overdrilled, tested-to-tears pupil in the land’ – The Times

  Full of Brian Patten’s wonderful wit!

  ‘Very silly, utterly crazy humour’ – Jeremy Strong, Guardian

  A collection of witty and brilliant poems that bring our monarchy to life!

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