| If I were lost in the deep dark wood, To be raised by wolves would be no good. With fur that sheds and their biting fleas, My skin would itch and my nose would sneeze. |  |
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 My darling little sister, Liz, drank some fizz and caused a tizz upon my birthday with us all and now we wish that she would fall.
Poem ©Em Lynas 2015 |
From Soles the shoe shop I collected,
Boots I lovingly selected.
I carefully unwrapped their box,
And pulled them over stripy socks.
They would not walk upon the floor,
But started climbing up the door.
Then headed off across the ceiling,
Giving me a sickly feeling.
Suddenly they jumped down hard,
And sprinted off into the yard.
Then out the gate and down the track,
I don’t think I am coming back.
Poem ©2014 Katherine Lynas
Illustration © 2014 Sam Zuppardi
Boots I lovingly selected.
I carefully unwrapped their box,
And pulled them over stripy socks.
They would not walk upon the floor,
But started climbing up the door.
Then headed off across the ceiling,
Giving me a sickly feeling.
Suddenly they jumped down hard,
And sprinted off into the yard.
Then out the gate and down the track,
I don’t think I am coming back.
Poem ©2014 Katherine Lynas
Illustration © 2014 Sam Zuppardi
| Someone keeps putting these things in my way. It's causing me problems, I just have to say, STOP IT please Someone, Please put things away, For I am the one that always must pay. I've a bruise on my bottom, A scab on my knee, A scratch on my forearm, Oh please can't you see, That I'm bruised and I'm battered, I'm blue and I'm black. My head is all swollen From when it went CRACK! So STOP IT please Someone, Please put things away, Or I will get angry and ruin your day! Poem ©2013Katherine Lynas Illustration ©2013Amanda Lillywhite |  |
| Muriel May Macarthy, was the clumsiest girl in the world. She fell over her feet when she ran in the street. She swirled and she twirled, and she whirled. |  |
General Gluteus Maximus
is a pain in the behind.
He’s uptight about where he sits,
but me?
I really don’t mind.
Wherever I go he follows,
that terrible bossy old rump.
If seating isn’t up to scratch
He complains and gets the hump.
General Gluteus Maximus
is a demanding derrière.
Comfy seats are important to him,
but me?
I really don’t care.
I’m tired of his choosy cheeks.
His snobbishness is a bore.
If he doesn’t start behaving soon
I’ll park him on the floor.
General Gluteus Maximus
is a great big uppity bum.
Every chair must be perfect,
but me?
I think that’s dumb.
We may come to an agreement.
An arrangement that is fair.
Let’s work out the details
in this antique rocking chair.
General Gluteus Maximus
I now understand your plight.
This is the best sitting down I have done.
My bottom fits just right!
Poem ©2013 Meagan Munroe
Illustration ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo
is a pain in the behind.
He’s uptight about where he sits,
but me?
I really don’t mind.
Wherever I go he follows,
that terrible bossy old rump.
If seating isn’t up to scratch
He complains and gets the hump.
General Gluteus Maximus
is a demanding derrière.
Comfy seats are important to him,
but me?
I really don’t care.
I’m tired of his choosy cheeks.
His snobbishness is a bore.
If he doesn’t start behaving soon
I’ll park him on the floor.
General Gluteus Maximus
is a great big uppity bum.
Every chair must be perfect,
but me?
I think that’s dumb.
We may come to an agreement.
An arrangement that is fair.
Let’s work out the details
in this antique rocking chair.
General Gluteus Maximus
I now understand your plight.
This is the best sitting down I have done.
My bottom fits just right!
Poem ©2013 Meagan Munroe
Illustration ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo
Ding Dong!
Robert darling, come and see,
Grandma Ivy’s here for tea.
Her lips are pursed expectantly.
She won’t think I’m quite so cute
Now I’m in my special suit.
Ding Dong!
Come here Robbie, don’t be shy,
Great Aunt Aggie’s just popped by
To get her weekly hug supply.
She’ll soon forget her hug request
When she sees just how I’m dressed.
Ding Dong!
Now then Rob, don’t be remiss,
Come give your Granny Rose a kiss,
She’s waited six long weeks for this.
She might decide to wait some more
When I open up this door.
CREEEEEEAK
At last, here’s Robert. Where have you been?
And what are you doing in that machine?
Don’t get too close, you’ll make us scream!
Hello grannies, no need to huddle,
Come and get a ROBOT cuddle!
Poem ©2013 George Kirk
Robert darling, come and see,
Grandma Ivy’s here for tea.
Her lips are pursed expectantly.
She won’t think I’m quite so cute
Now I’m in my special suit.
Ding Dong!
Come here Robbie, don’t be shy,
Great Aunt Aggie’s just popped by
To get her weekly hug supply.
She’ll soon forget her hug request
When she sees just how I’m dressed.
Ding Dong!
Now then Rob, don’t be remiss,
Come give your Granny Rose a kiss,
She’s waited six long weeks for this.
She might decide to wait some more
When I open up this door.
CREEEEEEAK
At last, here’s Robert. Where have you been?
And what are you doing in that machine?
Don’t get too close, you’ll make us scream!
Hello grannies, no need to huddle,
Come and get a ROBOT cuddle!
Poem ©2013 George Kirk
I am an inventor of buzzy wuz things:
Flog choppers, space swooshers and all things with wings.
There's something inside me that just loves to see,
Flip floating, swing swooping ships swirling round me.
I make wiberty jubbits and flittery flubes.
Lots of puffity tubbits and jittery shloos.
Sometimes buggity wugits with prickly stings
or a spinnery spugit that plops, pops and pings.
And I take them all outside at least once a day
And let them buzz round in the sky for a play.
Then when winders wind down and puffers loose steam,
I tuck them up so they can recharge and dream.
Poem ©2013 Mo O'Hara
Illustration ©2013 Mike Brownlow
Flog choppers, space swooshers and all things with wings.
There's something inside me that just loves to see,
Flip floating, swing swooping ships swirling round me.
I make wiberty jubbits and flittery flubes.
Lots of puffity tubbits and jittery shloos.
Sometimes buggity wugits with prickly stings
or a spinnery spugit that plops, pops and pings.
And I take them all outside at least once a day
And let them buzz round in the sky for a play.
Then when winders wind down and puffers loose steam,
I tuck them up so they can recharge and dream.
Poem ©2013 Mo O'Hara
Illustration ©2013 Mike Brownlow
Charles Cornelius Trumpington Pout
should never have eaten that leftover sprout.
It puffed up his belly with gases most foul,
churning and gurgling deep in his bowel.
Banished to bed with a rumbling tum,
he was kept awake by his grumbling bum.
His bulging gut could not be restrained.
The vapours within would not be contained.
You won't be seeing him anytime soon,
his bottom blasted him straight to the moon.
So here ends the tale of young Master Pout
who should never have eaten that leftover sprout.
Poem ©2013 Meagan Munroe
Illustration ©2013 Mike Brownlow
You can’t.
I can.
You can’t!
I can!
You’ll fall and end up
smooshed like spam!
Oh no I won’t.
I have a plan.
Look, you can’t fly.
Those aren’t real wings,
They’re just some frondy
Branchlike things.
I know. They’re just there
for the look.
I thought I’d do it
by the book,
And have some wings
At least for show.
Great you’ve got wings,
Now can we go?
This flying thing is so absurd.
You’re just a kid,
You’re not a bird!
Yes I’m a kid
But I can fly.
I don’t know how.
I don’t know why.
I just know that
I have to t
r
y...
Oh, I can’t look.
Open your eyes!
You’re flying?! Wow,
That’s a surprise.
Nah I knew
I’d fly you see.
But there is one thing
That’s bugging me.
I might need you
To lend a hand?
I’m really not sure
How to land.
Image ©2012 Sam Zuppardi
Poem ©2012 Mo O'Hara
I can.
You can’t!
I can!
You’ll fall and end up
smooshed like spam!
Oh no I won’t.
I have a plan.
Look, you can’t fly.
Those aren’t real wings,
They’re just some frondy
Branchlike things.
I know. They’re just there
for the look.
I thought I’d do it
by the book,
And have some wings
At least for show.
Great you’ve got wings,
Now can we go?
This flying thing is so absurd.
You’re just a kid,
You’re not a bird!
Yes I’m a kid
But I can fly.
I don’t know how.
I don’t know why.
I just know that
I have to t
r
y...
Oh, I can’t look.
Open your eyes!
You’re flying?! Wow,
That’s a surprise.
Nah I knew
I’d fly you see.
But there is one thing
That’s bugging me.
I might need you
To lend a hand?
I’m really not sure
How to land.
Image ©2012 Sam Zuppardi
Poem ©2012 Mo O'Hara
KIDS!
We would absolutely
LOVE IT
if you added your own funny poems in the comments.
Especially if you are
A CHILD
WITH A FUNNYBONE!
Fab illustrator of funny fiction!
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