Mum flipped one day and shouted
That she’d had about enough.
She’s sick of changing nappies and of picking up our stuff.

She went online and ordered,
From a space-age superstore,
A high-tech Robo-Nanny, for delivery at four!

It came inside a brown box,
That said ‘Poppins 6.5’.
Mum took it out and charged it, and our nanny came alive!

But then we heard it buzzing,
On its tummy flashed a light,
And something told us then our Poppins wasn’t programmed right.

Mum told it, “Here’s my four kids,
“And you’ll help me round the home….”
Instead, Miss Poppins started popping kids out of her own!

Not just one robot baby,
No, twelve tot-sized bots had come,
Before Mum found an off-switch hidden on the robot’s bum.

Now besides us kids there's
Mini-bots to feed and clean
Mum’s hired two more nannies (this time human, not machine).

We never have enough plugs,
Our electric bills are mad...
I bet Mum thinks our old mess wasn't really all that bad!

Poem © 2014 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration © Heather Dickinson

There came a midnight knock, a tap,
But at the door was only black.
So dark it was, I felt not saw,
His wings brush past me, nothing more.

I turned, my hopes of sweet dreams died,
The Knocking Crow had come inside.
I’d heard the tales and warnings said
Of when he calls you from your bed,

And now I sensed his beady eye
Upon me from a shelf up high.
What did he want, the dreadful crow?
Why did he make me shiver so?

I could not read, nor drink my tea,
His darkness settled over me.
That pointy beak! That wicked claw!
What horrors had he wrought before?

At last my terror grew so great
I cried, “Pray tell Sir, what’s my fate?
Why did you choose to enter here?
I’m at your mercy, crow of fear!”

He spread his wings, opened his beak,
I quaked, what foul things would he speak?
His voice as cracked and old as sin
Said “No one asks why I come in!”

“But now young human, since you dare...
It’s jolly freezing perched out there.”

Poem © 2014 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration © Sam Zuppardi

Yes, the ogre captured us
But don't be too alarmed
He's not as scary as he seems and we have not been harmed

You see, he's vegetarian!
Whoever would have thought?
He’s put us straight to work with all the other kids he's caught

Behind his castle walls he has
Kids keeping his house clean
And kids to tend his veggie patch, the biggest ever seen

We're both in the kitchen
Where we cook the ogre's meal
(That's why this SOS is on a scrap of onion peel)

And herein lies our problem, see
The ogre's diet's strange
He only wants his onions and his tastes they never change

His breakfast’s onion porridge, then
there’s onion cake at ten
If we get out we hope to never see onions again!

The onion soup is okay
And onion stew is fine...
But onion ice-cream pudding? That is where we draw the line

The castle's good in other ways
It's warm and keeps us dry
But all this chopping onions, could make a grown man cry

Our fingers smell, our hair does too
The stench clings to our clothes
It’s like we’re walking round with sweaty socks shoved up our nose

We long to slice some aubergines!
Or bake some mushroom pies
We'd gladly peel some sprouts to have a break from weeping eyes

So know that we're alive and well
We hope this calms your fears
But please come get us soon because we're running out of tears!

Poem ©2014 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration © 2014 Loretta Schauer

Ever seen a vampire bat that flashed a sharp-toothed smile?
Or some slimy water goblins ride a crocodile?
I have...

Perhaps you saw an ogre eating gravy-covered toes?
Or looked up at the sky and saw some glowing UFOs?
I did...

How about some phantom lions in a creepy zoo?
I can see these spooks and more, and guess what? You can too!
Here’s how...

Think of, let’s say, a haunted house, and with your mind explore it
Now all that scary stuff you see, just take a pen and draw it!

Poem © 2014 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration © 2014 Sally Kindberg

This morning I woke to a sunrise so bright,
Mum told me the sky painters came in the night.
She said while we slept they were loading their brushes,
With pigments as pink as a thousand girls’ blushes,

And sweeping across the horizon they made,
The world a huge canvas in this cheery shade.
I looked at the colours high over the trees,
I wondered, just what kind of painters are these?

They must have long arms for strokes so big and wide,
Or have some fantastic winged creatures to ride?
With a smile she said, seeing these artists is rare,
But often there are clues that they've been up there.

A smudged circle round the medallion sun,
A criss-cross of lines that no plane could have done.
Or when there’s a cloud, she said, shaped like a heart-
All might be original works of sky art.

That’s nice mum, I said, It’s a pretty thought but…
Don’t tell anyone else or they’ll think you’re a nut.

Poem ©2014 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration © 2014 Amanda Hall

You want advice my little chum? Since I know humans better,
Stay and shelter by my side to keep from getting wetter.
No one wants a wet dog, it’s strange but true, you’ll see,
No one strokes a wet dog, or lets him on their knee.

You may be cute and fluffy now, get snuggles in the bed,
The minute you’re a wet dog you’ll be turfed outside instead!
No one wants a wet dog, they’ll chase you off the rug,
No one pets a wet dog, or gives mucky pups a hug.

Take it from a damp old dog, a moppish drooly hound,
Some say it’s like the sprinkler’s on whenever I’m around!
No one wants a wet dog, though it might seem weird to us,
No one lets a wet dog lick their hand without a fuss!

They will call you smelly, make you stay out ‘til you’re clean,
But I’m no fancy poodle who just likes to sit and preen,
I’m an always-wet-dog, and I don’t even care,
‘Cause I can make it rain indoors when I shake out my hair!


Poem © 2013 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration © 2013 Amanda Lillywhite 

The thing about Alaskan bees is
They’re not like your kind,
Up here, you see, their honey freezes,
So in hives you’ll find:

Ice-cream swirls instead of wax
And blossom bright sorbets
Chunks of fudge and choc-ice stacks
In stripy bee sundaes

What’s more, since there’s no honeycomb
Exploring paws don’t stick,
Just open up the chilly dome
For hungry bears to lick!

And wow, the walls are wafer wrapped
Around the inner cold,
It’s like a giant waffle cone
For lucky cubs to hold!

And yep that’s how strange dessert fame
Came to our humble wood,
For sure, our bees they are to blame
For Baked Alaska pud!


Poem ©2013 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustrations ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo 

The Queen’s Chief Inventor’s my role, 
And it’s tough,
She asks me to do some impossible stuff.

One day she requests a bike with
Twelve foot sails,
The next, an appliance for doughnut cocktails!

If she wants to fly an airship
time-machine,
I’m the engineer of her zaniest schemes.

The last Chief Inventor said she
Was quite mad
He gave up and left to tend sheep with his dad!

Now folk ask me how I accept
Her demands,
They’ll never know why I’m putty in her hands.

My secret is simple, you may
Guess it’s this;
I’d give up my chemistry set for one kiss!

But ah, I’m no prince, a brave knight
Or rich man,
I have just my brains and my tools, and her plans

So….

If she tells me she wants to fly
Without wings,
I construct an airship from canvas and string!

She wants to go diving but will
Not wear scuba,
I build her a submarine shaped like a tuna!

She longs to be taller, and have
Longer strides,
I make robot legs that can step three miles wide!

Her wish is a pet that’s as rare 
As T-Rex?
I’ll breed her a hen that lays Cadbury’s Crème Eggs!

But now, oh help me, I’m unstuck
Stumped at last
She’s given me a truly knee-trembling task.

She wants me (gee!) to (gulp) declare
How I feel?
That’s like telling me to make cars with square wheels!

Oh no, how do I say it's
L. O.  V. E?
Please can you invent something to speak for me?

Poem © 2013 Laura Louise Stewart 
Illustrations © 2013 John Shelley

Wompoo pigeons coo
This is what they do
Start up the zoo band
When it perches on my hand

Trumptey tu tu
You can join in too!
Sing the wompoo song
As the zoo folk march along

Ooey Oo Oo Oo
Monkeys shout woo hoo!
See chimps move their feet
To that funky wompoo beat

Zabba dabba zoo
Zebras boogaloo!
Grooving to the tune
Of the hippo’s deep bassoon

Boppitty boo boo
Next come kangaroos!
Watch them bounce and drop
Getting low, the zoo hip-hop

Parp-itty poop poop
Warthogs step and toot!
Who needs jungle drums?
When you’ve got musical bums

Shoopy shoop shoo shoo
Meerkats hula hu!
All the zoo’s alive
With the jazzy wompoo jive

Doo-wop diddy do
..Wait…
Where is that wompoo?
What is that you say?
Oh, he must have flown away

Poem ©2013 Laura Louise Stewart
Illustration ©2013 Mike Brownlow

The stars are shining in the sky
The moon is looking down
On top of monster mountain
You cannot hear a sound
So put aside your worries
Chase the beasties from your head
Even little monsters
Have to go to bed

Inside the rocky monster dens
Baths are being run
To wash away a busy day
Of mucky monster fun
Time to clean those monster teeth
Brush cobwebs off their heads
Even little monsters
Have to go to bed

Mummy's in her dressing gown
Trying not to doze
Daddy's got his slippers on
To hide his hairy toes
Tails tucked into PJs
Cosy nightcaps on their heads
Even little monsters
Have to go to bed

Outside the wind is howling
Not a single monster roars
They're snug inside the blanket caves
The darkness shut outdoors
Come listen to your bedtime tale
Let stories fill your head
Even little monsters
Have to go to bed

Poem ©2013 Laura Lou Stewart
Image ©2013 Kate Pankhurst

When I am Queen,
I’m making a rule,
That no-one shall eat stringy beans.
And doctors will say,
Ice-cream’s a health food,
And shut up about stupid greens!

Whenever it snows, 
All work will be banned,
So kids can go sledging outside.
And I will make sure,
Long walks are extinct,
By giving out scooters to ride.

It won’t be allowed
For grown-ups to ask,
‘Has all of your homework been done?’
And teachers will get,
Detention from me,
If their lessons aren't enough fun.

I shall do away, 
With uncomfy thrones,
We’ll have royal hot tubs instead.
The long palace halls,
I’ll replace with flumes,
And slide to court straight out of bed.

But biggest of laws,
Which I shall enforce,
(And punish those who disagree)
Is no child shall be, 
Made to clean their plate,
Of bad-smelling-bleugh-broccoli. 


Image ©2012 Sam Zuppardi 
Poem ©2012 Laura Lou Stewart