Jake the Cake’s Children’s Poetry September 9, 2008

Hello. I’m Paul and this is my poetry blog. I have always loved writing poems but never really thought they were any good. One day I became brave enough to begin writing poems for friends and for people at work. Some of them suggested I should try to have them published. So, here I am.

Two of my poems are about to be published! The book is “My Cat is in Love with The Goldfish.” It’s an anthology compiled by Graham Denton and will be on sale from April 2010. You can pre-order it here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Goldfish-Other-Loopy-Poems/dp/140811559X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1253960270&sr=8-1

At the moment I am 65,000 words into a novel. It’s based on the Ballad of Percival Pig. This is why the poems are relatively slow in coming. It won’t last forever, though, and I expect to be writing poems again, full time, by the autumn.

Paul

 

Madhouse December 25, 2009

I once did see
a tortoise ski.
I’ve heard a starfish bark.
I’ve met a thousand unicorns
whilst jogging in the park.
I’ve seen so many wondrous things
that I’ve begun to file ‘em,
whilst undergoing treatment
at the lunatic asylum.

.

Paul Hughes 2009

Auntie Jean December 25, 2009

Uncle Ted: a silent type,
he liked to sit and smoke his pipe
and watch the world pass by.
He rarely smiled and wouldn’t talk,
he didn’t laugh and couldn’t walk
He wouldn’t even try.
He only had one leg, you see,
for one was gone beneath the knee.
I often wondered why.
And so I asked him “Uncle Ted,
what made you such a monoped?”
And this was his reply:
“The guinea pig you thought had died
was dipped in egg and lightly fried
Your Auntie Jean, she ate it.
You think the cat just ran away?
She had it for her lunch one day.
She diced it and sautéed it.
She went through quite the strangest phase,
a truly zooicidal craze.
My little blue-rinsed killer!
She ate her way through London zoo
and half of Drayton Manor too.
But nothing seemed to fill ‘er.
We made our way to Vietnam,
through Africa and Pakistan,
for new exotic meats.
She chomped her way through chimpanzees
orangutangs and manatees,
gazelles and parakeets.”
“And so,” I ventured, “was your leg
torn off by bears in Winnipeg,
or tigers in Nepal?”
“Why, no,” he sighed “your aunt had tried
each beast the planet could provide.
She’d tasted one and all.
It broke her heart and so I knew.
What else was there for me to do?
I love that cannibal!”
.
Paul Hughes 2009

The Sad, Mad, Scientist November 28, 2009

I’m worried, Professor, you seem very ill.
Each day you appear to be thinner.
You lie there quite silently, perfectly still,
refusing your breakfast and dinner.
I know that your submarine sunroof went wrong
and drowned quite a number of men.
The balsa-wood barbecue didn’t last long,
but get up and try, try again.
Your toilet-seat microphone works very well;
poor mother felt sick when I tried it.
The clockwork umbrella will certainly sell,
though grandma is still trapped inside it.
So, don’t be unhappy, no, don’t be depressed,
your genius couldn’t be clearer.
I love your inventions, I’m truly impressed.
Each failure brings triumph nearer.
.
Paul Hughes, 2009

An Elementary Tongue Twister. November 14, 2009

There is hydrogen and helium,
then lithium, berilium,
boron, carbon, nitrogen
and oxygen (a gas).
There’s fluoride, neon, sodium,
a metal called “magnesium,”
another: “aluminium”
and silicon makes glass.
Phosphorus is poisonous
and sulphur is malodorous.
Chlorine keeps pools clean for us.
We use argon in lights.
Nineteenth comes potassium
and twentieth is calcium.
There’s over ninety more of ‘em,
too many to recite.

.
You’ll find their names all written in
The Periodic Table.
I’ve listed twenty, to begin.
Learn more if you are able!

.

Paul Hughes 2009

Uncle Ted November 3, 2009

 

That funny smell is Uncle Ted,

for though he’s been a long time dead,

we didn’t bury him, instead,

we left him in his chair.

And though we dust him twice a day,

to keep the rats and flies away,

the Health and Safety people say

“he can’t keep sitting there!”

.

I like to watch him turning green,

but feel quite sad for Auntie Jean.

She does her best to keep him clean.

She scrapes away the mould.

And when, each night, she grabs his head

to drag his body up to bed,

she huffs and puffs and turns bright red,

for she is getting old.

.

One day Aunt Jean will wake up dead.

We’ll leave her resting in her bed,

Right next to poor old Uncle Ted,

their house, a mausoleum.

And I will make a thousand pounds

by selling hotdogs in the grounds,

when people come from all around

and pay me cash to see ‘em.

.

Paul Hughes, 2009

Posh Zombie October 29, 2009

We’re rotten, we stink, but we’re not what you think:
those zombies you see on TV.
We’re cultured, refined, so we hope you won’t mind
if we munch on your brains for our tea.
We know some undead are quite crude and ill-bred.
They eat with no trace of decorum.
They chomp and they slurp, yes they dribble and burp.
I do think your brain’s too good for ‘em.
So, come to our table, as soon as you’re able,
we’ve cutlery, napkins and wine.
We’ll fry your grey matter with parsley and batter.
I’m sure you’ll just think it divine!

.

Paul Hughes, 2009

The invention of the hot air baaaaaaloon: 1783 AD October 28, 2009

 

The sheep cried “Baa! I’m scared of heights!”
The chicken clucked and squawked with fright
The duck replied “we’ll be alright”
And quacked a cheerful tune:
“Although we’re still ascending
And there’s no use pretending
unless we start descending
We’re sure to reach the moon.”
,
The crowd below cheered “hip hooray!”
to Jo and Jacques Montgolfier.
“Ze French have beaten gravité
With this hot air balloon!
And though it’s very nice to see
a sheep, a hen, a duck float free,
can we fly too? Oh, please say ‘oui!’
We’d like to try it soon.”
,
So, Monsieur Jo Montgolfier
declared “These beasts have shown the way!
It seems quite safe, and so I say
we’ll send a man up soon!”
Men flew second, sheep were first
But wait, there’s more, and even worse:
a monkey orbited The Earth
before we reached the moon.
,
Paul Hughes, 2009

School’s out for EVER! October 28, 2009

I was working as a doctor in the local A&E.
A boy came in, his parents wept and wailed.
Upon examination it was plain for all to see,
his heart was weak, his lungs and kidneys failed.
The look of pain upon his face, too dreadful to remember,
his final words: “Why must life be so cruel?
My will to live has disappeared, for now it is September.
I’d really rather die than go to school!”
,
Paul Hughes, 2009

Freddie the Frog August 10, 2009

Such wicked deception, Fred loved to play tricks on

the girls who lived down by the stream.

He lied and deceived them, he’d kiss them and leave them.

His crown was not all that it seemed.

,

Amphibious malice, he said he’d a palace.

“A witch turned me into a frog.”

He promised to marry: Jane, Cath, June and Carrie,

If only they’d give him a snog.

,

His breath stank of flies and the girls were surprised,

he didn’t turn into a Prince.

He wasn’t a Royal, just slimy, disloyal.

Those poor girls have kissed no-one since.

,

Their parents, the priest and the chief of police

said something would have to be done.

A Cherokee snail set off on his trail,

for Freddie had gone on the run.

,

The snail prevailed and Freddie turned pale,

when trapped by a posse of bugs.

He tried to escape from this terrible scrape,

but croaked with a gut full of slugs.

,

Paul Hughes 2009

Golden Locks, Iron Bars April 14, 2009

Goldilocks was caught at last,
they put her into care.
The date was set, the jury found,
The sheriff fetched the bears.
He told them they would have to stand
and tell Judge all they knew.
Father bear said that he would
and Mummy bear would too.
Young baby bear jumped up and down
and asked “will I be there?
She stole my food, she wrecked my bed
She broke my little chair!”
And so the three bears went to court.
Her guilt was plain to see.
Her face was long, the trial short,
The jury cried “GUILTY!”
But when they tried to take her down
she cried “these cuffs are tight!”
They tried again, they were “too loose!”
The third time was “just right!”
,
Paul Hughes 2009

.

The alternative last  few lines, which I prefer but which parents might baulk at, are as follows:

.

But when they tried to string her up

She cried “this noose is tight!”

They tried again, it was “too loose,”

the third time was “just right.”

The Dung Beatles April 8, 2009

Dung, dung, glorious dung!
Elephant faeces just melt on the tongue.
Freshly made guano, divine! Oh I drool
for roasted, fried, boiled or fricasseed stool.
Come on boys, sing it! Cry out with those lungs!
“Please bring us a plateful of dung!”
,
Paul Hughes 2009

My Heart Flies March 1, 2009

I love you Miss Fly.
You’re filthy, that’s why!
All covered in grease, dirt and grime.
I gasp at your beauty
my dung-munching cutie,
and pray that one day you’ll be mine.
,
Let’s fly to a pile
of garbage so vile
it makes quite the loveliest food.
We’ll feast there for days.
Together we’ll raise
a horrible, maggoty, brood.
,
Paul Hughes 2009

The Tears of a King February 15, 2009

I loved that little antelope

but knew I never had a hope;

how could such beauty love a beast like me?

My love was true, I loved her well,

I love you still, my sweet gazelle;

Why did it have to end in tragedy?

,

Each day I sent my love a rose;

I hoped its scent would please her nose.

I sang to her each night beneath the moon.

But all she did was laugh at me:

“oh, mangy-mane, you sack of fleas!

You hurt my ears. Why can’t you sing in tune?”

,

Her insults made me feel so sad,

but they grew worse and I grew mad;

for, as you would expect, I have my pride.

I growled and roared, I bit and clawed,

I ate the doe I had adored;

my darling dish, sweet supper, lunch-time bride.

,

I did her wrong, I can’t pretend

that I was right, I won’t defend

my actions; for I know it’s no use trying.

But surely you ‘ll agree with me

that it’s a great mistake to be

so rude to such a fearsome looking lion.

,

Paul Hughes 2009

Opposites Attract January 12, 2009

Ice-Cube Boy and Fire Girl both fell in love at school.

Ice-Cube Boy thought she was hot,

and she thought he was cool.

But when they tried to hug and kiss

her flame went “fizzle!”, “pop!” and “hiss!”

and Ice-Cube Boy was turned to steam,

evaporating with a scream.

Their parents cried “Our son!”, “Our daughter!”

“Nothing more than smoke and water,

Now it’s clear, it’s just a fact

that opposites should not attract!”

Paul Hughes 2009

Bee to Zee November 11, 2008

Once I saw a bumble bee

but never met a bumble cee.

I’ve yet to greet a bumble dee

so tell me please, have you?

And has there been a bumble eee,

a bumble gee, a bumble vee?

Has anyone seen bumble pee

or stepped in bumble poo?

I’ve never heard of bumble tee.

And what of buzzy bumble zee?

What kind of bumble could he be?

Does he like honey too?

I want to see a bumble cee,

a bumble dee, a bumble eee.

I’ll see all bumbles – Bee to Zee

down at the bumble zoo!

,

,

Paul Hughes 2008

Where is Peter? October 22, 2008

,

Peter wasn’t keen on ghouls.

He wasn’t fond of ghosts.

He screamed when he heard poltergeists,

he hated them the most.
,

And when I mentioned Hallowe’en

he shivered and he shook.

I said “come out on trick or treat!”

He gave me such a look.

,

November 1st I went to school

and Peter wasn’t there.

Where could that Peter Pumpkin be?

Does anybody care?

,

I’ve just heard something horrible.

I think I’m going to cry.

They chopped him up, it’s terrible.

They put him in a pie!

,

Paul Hughes 2008

Millie the Mouse October 19, 2008

,

,Millie the Mouse had a room in her house

used only for storing her cheese:

Red Leicester and cheddar and soft mozarella,

Camemberts, stiltons and bries.

,

Cheese was her lunch and for supper she’d munch

on Monterey jack by the tonne.

At breakfast she’d chew on the best Danish blue

followed by creamy Bougon.

,

In time she grew bored of the food she’d adored.

She longed for a new kind of cheese;

so sailed to Siam, Spain, Tibet, Vietnam,

and other strange countries like these.

,

She searched far and wide but she found she had tried

each cheese that the world had to give.

She sobbed through the night, by the moon’s silver light:

“I’ll sigh for as long as I live!”

,

Whilst mopping her tears Millie had an idea:

“They tell me there’s cheese on the moon!

I’d fly there right now but I’ve no idea how.

I hope that I find a way soon!

,

She asked for a plane but they said “you’re insane!

no plane ever flew quite so high!

The moon is too far, why it’s almost a star!

A plane only flies in the sky.”

,

She thought “a balloon might fly up to the moon.”

She tied a balloon to her paw,

but tumbled and dropped, as it burst with a “POP!”

The fall left her terribly sore.

,

She tried but she found she could not leave the ground.

She cried “will I never succeed?

For nothing I try takes me into the sky.

Will nobody answer my pleas?”

,

Bees, bats and birds overheard Millie’s words

and lifted her into the air.

They buzzed, flapped and flew through the sky’s cloudy blue

until Millie cheered “we are there!”

,

She squeaked and she screamed, “it’s all just as I dreamed.

The moon is a wonderful cheese!

With rocks made of bread and wine lakes, white and red,

I’ll feast for as long as I please!”

,

She nibbled and chewed on the loveliest food

and stayed on the moon for a week.

She lived in a house with an alien mouse,

who had a peculiar squeak.

,

It broke Millie’s heart when she had to depart.

The alien mouse shed a tear.

She promised that soon she’d return to the moon.

And next time she’d stay for a year.

,

Kissing her fella, she took an umbrella

and leapt from the moon with a shriek.

She thought she would surf on the moon-rays to Earth,

and land near her home: Mozambique.

,

It wasn’t that easy for space is quite breezy.

The wind blew her far from her home.

She drifted for days to the great Milky Way

and landed, quite scared and alone.

,

She wasn’t alone, for she found skulls and bones

of rats and fish, even some mice.

The place was a trap, set by space cats who lap

at star milk (which doesn’t taste nice!)

,

Soon they appeared and they looked pretty weird.

Their fur was quite curly and green.

They had seven eyes and, to Millie’s surprise,

no sign of a tail could be seen.

,

Six space cats chased her and shot with their phasers.

Poor Millie ran screaming in fear.

But spotting a comet, she leapt right upon it

and flew into Earth’s atmosphere.

,

Happy and jolly she opened her brolly,

descending quite gently to land.

Our brave little mouse ran right back to her house

by the sea, on the edge of the sand.

,

Millie the mouse is now selling her house.

She wants to go back into space.

So, one day, I hope, with my new telescope,

I’ll see her there, on the moon’s face.

,

,

,

Paul Hughes, 2008

<!–[endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]–> <!–[endif]–><!–[if gte vml 1]> <![endif]–>

<!–[endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]–>

<!–[endif]–><!–[if gte vml 1]> <![endif]–><!–[if !vml]–><!–[endif]–>

The Fruit Fly October 1, 2008

 

I have a kitchen full of food which you would like to eat.

There’s aubergines and cheerios and lots of chewy sweets.

And yet there are some fruit flies there who seem to have forgotten

that fruit is nicest when it’s fresh; they only eat it rotten.

No wonder they’re so very small. I swear they’re getting thinner.

If only they would sit with me and eat a proper dinner.

Paul Hughes 2008

Job Scare September 18, 2008

 

Helen Hen was terrified,

as frightened as can be.

Tom Turkey worked at Pizza Hut.

She worked at KFC.

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Alice the Astronaut September 9, 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

I

see

your

ancient

blinking

light and feel

you watch me too; as once you winked at dinosaurs and Henry

Tudor too. I hope that in a hundred years a boy will voice

the thought: “that star once shone on Alice Hughes,

the famous astronaut.” By then I will have been to

Mars, and through the Milky Way. I will have zapped

an alien and blown small moons away. I’ll travel through

the universe and all the world will see, they’ll never find

an astronaut

who knows

the stars

like

me

!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Fairies and the Butterfly September 8, 2008

Deep in Acorn Wood lived young Anna, who was good;
but sadly she was plain and deathly ill.
Her sister’s name was Jean. She was beautiful but mean,
and span (to earn a penny) with great skill.

Although she was so ill, Jean made Anna clean until
her aches, her pains and sadness made her weep.
Jean would treat her badly; she kicked and beat her madly.
Each night poor Anna cried herself to sleep.

Anna loved the flowers. Each day, for just an hour,
she breathed and shared their soft scent with the bees.
This summer was her last, for her strength was fading fast.
Her spirit would soon fly with autumn’s breeze.

Anna smelled a rose. Its sweet perfume pleased her nose.
she softly spoke: “My love, I share your doom!
Your petals will soon fall and I hear my own grave call.
But still I cry for you, my darling bloom!”

The flowers heard these words and within them fairies stirred.
They all agreed they could not let her die.
Her death would be too tragic so they used their ancient magic.
Dear Anna’s soul became a butterfly.

She flutters free from pain and she’s beautiful, not plain
She bathes in dew and feeds from petalled bowls.
Sitting right beside her spins an ugly, wicked, spider
The fairies changed Jean’s shape to fit her soul.

Spiders always sigh when they meet a butterfly.
They long to touch the beauty they can’t share.
Yet butterflies steer clear when they sense a spider near.
The sight of them is more than they can bear.

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Pay back, Jack! August 29, 2008

 

Glassy-eyed and shivering,

Jack sat in the dock.

His hands were clasped and quivering.

His knees began to knock.

The Judge said: “Jack, you’ve been accused

of murdering the giant.

I tell you, we are not amused!”

But Jack looked up, defiant,

and cried: “but it was self defence,

a matter of survival.

It didn’t make a bit of sense

to wait for his arrival.

For he was big and fierce, you see,

with murder in his eyes.

He would have made a meal of me.

He simply had to die.

And so I took the axe and chopped

the beanstalk clean in two.

He shouted “No!” and then he dropped.

You’d do the same thing too,

if someone said they’d grind your bones

to bake themselves some bread.

I didn’t have a sling and stone

so used an axe instead.”

“Goliath came,” the Judge replied,

“attacking David’s clan.

He came to kill and so he died.

He was an awful man.

But you crept in the giant’s den

to steal his sacks of gold

and then went back to take his hen

which laid gold eggs, I’m told.

And so, I say, you’re just a thief.

The giant can’t be blamed.

Your crimes are quite beyond belief.

You ought to be ashamed.

And so I give you thirty years.

To prison you must go!”

Jack’s eyes sprang salty, selfish tears.

He shook from head to toe.

So Jack was taken to his cell.

He’s still there, breaking rocks.

The judge declared: “that went quite well.

Now bring me Goldilocks!”

Paul Hughes 2008

 

I’m fed up with people! August 7, 2008

 

I’m fed up with people, I am!

I really do hate what I’m eating.

 I scream: “give me pork, beef or lamb!”

My parents just give me a beating.

I long for tomatoes, asparagus spears,

but all I am given is roast leg and ears.

We never get veggies or fresh fruit for tea,

‘cause cannibals only eat people, you see!

I dream of red apples, bananas and ham

I’m fed up with people, I am!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Accident August 4, 2008

We’re happy that the nappy is a fading memory.

You’ve learned to use the toilet when you’re going for a pee.

But please remember all those little steps we have rehearsed

and don’t forget it’s best to pull your underwear down first!

 

 

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Escargot? No! July 13, 2008

Sidney the slug said to Bertie the bug

“I wish I’d been born as a snail!

Just give me a shell (and some lettuce as well)

and I’ll dance on the tip of my tail!”

 

“It’s really unfair and, what’s worse, no-one cares”

said Sidney with tears in his eyes.

“The snail looks cute in his spiral shell-suit,

but I am just hated, despised!”

 

“For snails eat flowers and nibble for hours

on radishes, cabbage and kale.

we’re really the same and yet I get the blame,

for nobody dislikes a snail”

 

Bertie sat crying and stammered, replying

“it’s no use to blame evolution.

We’ll find Snail Stan, he will help (if he can)

to think of a simple solution.”

 

Stan was found munching and crunching his lunch in

the flowerbed next to the marrows.

He said “there’s a chance that my cousin in France

will have a spare shell you could borrow!”

 

The very next day they set sail for Calais

and travelled by train to Dijon.

They found cousin Lee in the shade of a tree

and they asked for a shell to try on.

 

The seventeenth shell seemed to fit very well;

Sidney danced on the tip of his tail.

“I feel like a King in this gastropod bling!

Oh, show me a more handsome snail!”

 

But on his way home he was caught by Jerome

and pan-fried in garlic and butter.

“Resist being vain, it brings nothing but pain!”

were the last words Bert heard Sidney mutter.

 

 

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

The strange logic of parents. June 15, 2008

“Do up your collar Son, tuck in your shirt!

Your shoes need a polish, clean socks wouldn’t hurt.”

 

“But why does it matter Dad? Why should I care?

I bet no-one’s bothered if I’ve brushed my hair,

or straightened my tie or remembered to wash.

So why do I have to pretend to be posh?”

 

“Appearance is vital, Son, listen to me!

It’s called ‘first impressions’, we judge what we see.

And if you look scruffy then people will say:

‘oh isn’t ‘e dreadful!? The yoof of today!’”

 

“Then people are stupid, Dad. Why should I mind?

Just let them be bitter and twisted, unkind.

You can’t judge a book by its cover, I’m told,

and though things can glitter, they’re not always gold!”

 

A pause

 

“Oh Dad, by the way, can I have some new jeans?

they have to be Levis, so don’t be all mean

and buy them from ASDA, they have to look right.

I’m taking Louise to the movies tonight!”

 

“Oh don’t be so silly, Louise wouldn’t care

if you turned up dressed as a tiger or bear.

I’ve told you a thousand times; let me announce:

the stuff on the INSIDE is all that should count”

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Amphibian Crooks and Invertebrate Cooks June 5, 2008

 

The toad and the frog sat upon the great log

and conferred by the light of the moon.

"They've asked us to meet them,

I think we should eat them.

I'm hungry, I hope they come soon!"

"Agreed" declared toad. As he spoke, down the road,

there appeared quite a column of beasts;

all led by a spider,

a cockroach beside her:

a host of a thousand (at least).

"You insects, you runts, you have saved us a hunt,

by presenting yourselves as our meal"

Our toad licked his lips

at frog's terrible quips

but he answered "let's hear their appeal!"

"Dear sirs" said the roach as he made his approach

"we ask you to stop your predation.

In turn we will offer

a wonderful coffer

of foodstuffs for your delectation."

"You've courage to ask it" said frog, "bring the casket

we'll see if a deal can be struck.

I hope there is candy,

some wine would be dandy,

but none of that chardonnay muck!"

The box was unlocked, toad and frog were quite shocked

at the luxuries hidden within.

There were packets of jam

with some bottles of ham,

and baked antelope sealed in a tin.

Woodlice brought glasses, champagne on the grass is

a treat which amphibians cherish.

The night rang with laughter;

toad swore that "hereafter

"I vow no more insects shall perish!"

"But what shall we munch on for supper and luncheon?"

asked frog with a horrified wail.

"No more deep fried spiders

washed down with strong cider?

No more of those caramel snails?"

"Yes, I love them too but I know what to do"

said the toad as he finished his pud.

"In exchange for their lives

our dear insects must strive

to bring us the finest of foods!"

"So my dear spider, please take this hang-glider

and fly to the South China Sea.

Fetch chopsticks and fried rice

some chow mein (that tastes nice!)

and bring them to Froggie and me!"

"Sweet ladybird speed to consult with the Swedes

on the best source of venison, dear!

And gastropods slither

to fry us some liver.

Hey dragonfly, pour me a beer!"

They worked as a team and they cooked like a dream.

The frog and the toad ate like kings.

But their joy didn’t last,

no, it ended quite fast

through the wickedness gluttony brings.

Frog was ungrateful and longed for a plateful

of spiders and caramel snails.

So as toad was sleeping,

he tiptoed-a-creeping

and ate them all up, such betrayal!

The insects were shaken “we’ve been so mistaken

to trust these amphibious crooks!”

They left that same night

and now try as you might

you will never find insects who cook.

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

(First draft. Please comment if you see anything in need of tidying…)

The Blind Buccaneer May 30, 2008

I think that my days as a pirate are through.

Where most have one eye patch,  you’ll see I have two!

You think that’s unlucky? Just listen to me,

there’s men in my crew who declare they have three!

Of course I can’t see them, perhaps it’s not true,

for pirates aren’t always the most honest crew

 

I think that retirement would be a relief,

for wrecking my frigate on sandbanks and reefs

can be so distressing, it’s all such a bore.

I can’t see my victims at sea anymore

I call out: “please tell me, is anyone there?”

But nobody answers, they don’t seem to care.

 

Whenever I hasten to hoist up the flag

I’m told that I’m flying my undies or rags

I can’t find my wooden leg, where is my hook?

My parrot has patches too, so he can’t look!

So now I’ll just sit and drink rum at a bar

whilst singing sea-shanties and shouting HA HAARGGHHH!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Onion Boy May 22, 2008

 

Onion Boy juggled and told a good joke

but only made everyone cry

“There must be a way I can cheer up these folk!”

he said with a terrible sigh

“My act is just perfect but still it appears

my sulphurous fumes reduce people to tears!”

but chopped up and pan-fried and turned into soup

our humorous onion brought smiles to the group

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Wonderful Bird From Dundee May 21, 2008

 

She wrapped all her presents and tied them with string

that wonderful bird from Dundee.

She chose all the carols her children would sing

and smiled at the thought that this Christmas would bring

such joy to this bird from Dundee

 

She prettied her fir tree with silver and gold,

that beautiful bird from Dundee.

She stoked up the fire to keep out the cold

the loveliest Christmas scene was (I am told)

designed by that bird from Dundee.

 

The farmer’s wife readied her ovens and pans

for succulent birds from Dundee

our wonderful turkey had not heard these plans

her efforts were wasted (do you understand?)

that poor little bird from Dundee!

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Rhinoceros May 19, 2008

 

The nose of the rhinoceros

is really quite preposterous

but telling him is dangerous

for he is most cantankerous

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Show and Tell Surprise May 15, 2008

 

“Please bring your pets” said Miss Mendelle

“Along to next week’s show and tell.”

“But miss!” I cried, “no buts!” she yelled,

“Unless you’d like to be expelled!?”

And so, next week, we brought our pets,

Except for Jimmy, who forgets

His name unless it’s written down,

That’s why he’s known throughout the town

As “he who can’t remember what

It is which he has clean forgot.”

But let’s return to what occurred

When school was filled with dogs and herds

Of cows, for Fred the farmer’s son

called them his pets, yes every one

Was “Daisy” this or “Mooey” that.

He wouldn’t settle for a cat,

But plenty did and brought them all

To leave their mess around the school;

For no-one thought of litter trays.

The horrid smell lingered for days.

And as for all those vicious dogs,

Tarantulas and poison frogs,

They didn’t seem like pets at all

To those who went to hospital

With severed limbs or spider bites;

It’s lucky they survived the night

But worst of all my tiger, “John”

Took just one bite and she was gone.

A nasty end for Miss Mendelle.

Oh what a silly show and tell.

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Quest for The Holy Pail May 8, 2008

 

Now lend me your ears and I’ll tell you a tale

of chivalrous beasts from the fields

so listen and learn if our heroes prevail

in searching the world for the one holy pail

equipped with their swords and their shields

their shields

equipped with their swords and their shields

 

 

This pail was the one used by Joseph to feed

the donkey which carried his wife

along into Egypt at such a high speed

away from King Herod, whose anger and greed

endangered Lord Jesus’ life

his life

endangered Lord Jesus’ life

 

 

Awoken one day in their coops, barns and sties

by stomachs which rumbled and moaned

the village resounded with animal cries

“without any breakfast we’ll certainly die!

oh, where is our food-pail?” they groaned

                                               they groaned       

“oh, where is our food pail?” they groaned

 

 

The farmer appeared with a face streaked by tears

and sobbed that the pail had been lost

the animals wept but they all volunteered

to hunt for the pail from Beijing to Tangiers

“we’ll find it no matter the cost

the cost

we’ll find it no matter the cost!”

 

Instructing the blacksmith to fashion their swords

their spears and their armour so bright

they built wooden ships and they clambered aboard

and promising sailors a golden reward

they sailed their ships into the night

the night

they sailed their ships into the night

 

The knights of the animal fleet sailed away

they floated to many a shore

and prayed to Lord God that they might see the day

they’d rest once again in their comfortable hay

and feed from their lost pail once more

once more

and feed from their lost pail once more

 

So listen and hear what took place on their quest

and if they returned safe and sound

be sure that these farmyard braves gave of their best

but was it enough to succeed in their test?

oh, was their dear pail ever found?

ever found

oh, was their dear pail ever found?

 

Sir Graham the Goose landed safely in France

and galloped to Montelimar

when ambushed by bandits he fought with his lance

but could he defeat them? Oh no, not a chance!

so now he is pate foie gras

foie gras

so now he is pate foie gras

 

Sir Bernard the Bull made his way into Spain

but when he arrived in Seville

a wicked man trapped him then wrapped him in chains

and dragged to the bull ring, Sir Bernard was slain

the crowd cheered the matador’s skill

his skill

the crowd cheered the matador’s skill

 

Sir Parsifale Pig sailed away to the East

and ventured through all of Siam

the local folk caught him and had for their feast

his chops, ribs and bacon and last, but not least

they savoured his wonderful ham

his ham

they savoured his wonderful ham

 

The knights of our farmyard tale ended their quest

in bull rings, on menus and plates

we ask you, oh Lord, grant them eternal rest

and treat them with mercy upon their request

to pass through your heavenly gates

your gates

to pass through your heavenly gates

 

You ask of the holy pail: “has it been found?”

why, yes, it was found by the maid

right here on the farm, sitting there on the ground

yes, there, where the chickens are scratching around

my word, what a pointless crusade

crusade

my word, what a pointless crusade!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

 

 

It’s first draft and I intend to leave it a few days before reading it again and making any changes. Let me know if you spot anything glaring.

 

Thirty Five Eyes and Thirty Five Tears May 5, 2008

 

Yes, the scallop has thirty five eyes!

they are coloured a beautiful blue

what a mess it must make when it cries

I’m so glad that I only have two!

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Counterfeit Kid! May 1, 2008

“The very best of students!”

or so I tell my dad

I trade “A” grades for presents

my parents are so glad

to purr: “our lovely daughter

an angel, no mistake!”

but I’m a master-forger

my grades are just a fake!

but now it’s parents’ evening

my teachers are all here

it’s time that I was leaving

it’s time to disappear!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

I’ve just returned from a parents’ evening and wrote this inbetween appointments.

 

An Outstanding Elephant April 28, 2008

An outstanding elephant floats to the moon

on packets of Angel Delight

and says to his children “we’ll be there quite soon

you’ll just be amazed at the sight

of the Martians who play in the asteroid crater

Venutian tourists who buy and pay later

when offered a ride to the sun

in an old and decrepit and most unsafe freighter

built back in 2001″

he said

“built back in 2001″

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

 

The Ballad of Percival Pig April 28, 2008

 

 

Good Percival pig was both clever and brave

his farmer was wicked and sly

he’d sent many poor pigs along to their graves

a horrid and hateful and terrible knave

as no-one who knows him denies

denies

as no-one who knows him denies

 

Good Percival pig hunted truffles by day

he cared for his piglets at night

his farmer declared “folk in Canada say

their lands grow such truffles as no scales can weigh

you’ll sail by tramp steamer tonight

tonight

you’ll sail by tramp steamer tonight”

 

Good Percival pig said “but why should I roam

so far over oceans and seas?

my kids will be sausages when I come home

and I may well drown in the sea’s salty foam

do answer, dear sir, if you please

you please

do answer, dear sir, if you please!”

 

Good Percival Pig heard his master’s reply

“Dear Percy I make you this vow:

if you should bring home, by the end of July

a truffle of stupendous, outrageous size

I’ll spare you, your kids and your sow

your sow

I’ll spare you, your kids and your sow!”

 

Good Percival pig put to sea that same night

his journey was terribly long

though battered and bruised by the sea’s howling spite

he plucked up his courage and never took fright

our Percival pig was so strong

so strong

our Percival pig was so strong

 

Good Percival pig made his landing at last

and using his nose he soon found

a truffle so wonderfully, awfully vast

it still, to this day, remains quite unsurpassed

it weighed in at over ten pounds

ten pounds

it weighed in at over ten pounds

 

Good Percival pig struggled home with his prize

and rushed with a squeal to his farm

but oh, what a horrid sight greeted his eyes

his kids and his sow had been made into pies

“you promised to save them from harm

from harm

you promised to save them from harm!”

 

Good Percival pig met the very same end

in bangers and pies, sausage meat

the farmer sat down to a meal with his friends

to dine on betrayal (which no-one defends)

“these sausages look such a treat

a treat

these sausages look such a treat!”

 

Good Percival pig was the toast of the night

they drank to his soul through their meal

’til a blood chilling draught blew and put out the light

the revellers shrieked and stampeded with fright

“God save us, it’s Percival’s squeal

his squeal

God save us, it’s Percival’s squeal!”

 

Good Percival pig towered fearsome and brave

his ghostly form shrouded in black

and boomed with a deathly voice “go to your grave!

you horrid and hateful and terrible knave!”

the farmer fell dead on his back

his back

the farmer fell dead on his back

 

Good Percival pig, that’s the end of his tale

a story of goodness and greed

a warning that nothing good comes of betrayal

that virtue and justice will always prevail

we reap what we sow with our deeds

our deeds

we reap what we sow with our deeds!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

 

I have just read “Alonzo the Brave”. It’s a tale which mixes the ballad style of poetry with the flavour of the medieval troubadours. I wanted to do write something with a pinch of its style and form. So here it is. I’ve read it to someone and they caused me to remember that Lear’s “The Owl and the Pussycat” used the same repetitive three line end to each stanza. The “theft” of this quirk wasn’t deliberate but pays testament to how that poem is one of the best ever written for children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Lecture on Thumb-Sucking April 27, 2008

oh, don’t be foolish, don’t be dumb

why must you children suck on thumbs?

it really isn’t very nice

and some have paid a heavy price

poor Abigail, for instance, found

her teeth were being quickly ground

away, for rubbing of the thumb

wore down her teeth right to the gum

she can’t eat solids anymore

but sucks her food up through a straw

which doesn’t matter when she drinks

but every now and then she thinks

it would be nice to have some bread

or other chewy things instead

but this is not the worst of things

which sucking thumbs can sometimes bring

for little Tom once sucked away

all through the night and through the day

he sucked his thumb right to the bone

but didn’t stop at that alone

oh no, he sucked his hand away

and then his arms, until one day

his body was a skeleton

his flesh had just completely gone

and though he couldn’t suck his head

he’d sucked too far and thus dropped dead

 

Moral

 

it’s most unwise, as Tom now knows

to suck on fingers, thumbs or toes

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

 

Consoling Daisy… April 25, 2008

 

Dew drops

from your petals

tears don’t fall from roses

but should, for their beauty is fraud

maintained by dung, pruning and chemicals

soon faded by sun and greenfly

your purer beauty shines

reflected through

dew drops

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

This rictameter is a little out of the ordinary as far as this blog goes. I’m furiously reading other children’s poems in order to render myself more versatile. I haven’t read a children’s rictameter, yet, but read about the form yesterday and thought I’d give it a try. It’s the kind of thing which seems to fit in a Year 9 English SAT or GCSE anthology. I think the message is straightforward enough. Post a comment if you have any views on its merits. It’s an experiment anyway. Worth a shot!

Trousers are Pants! April 24, 2008

I love my new school uniform

I’ve neatly pressed my shirt

my hair-grips sparkle beautifully

I look great in my skirt

but when I went to school today

my teacher shouted “Oi!

put on some trousers, rightaway

you horrid little boy!”

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Wings and things. April 23, 2008

Has anyone witnessed a duck on a bike?

they won’t use a skateboard or go on a trike

is working the pedals a chore they dislike?

is this why I’ve not seen a duck ride a bike?

 

Has anyone seen a gazelle in a car?

they won’t fly by airplane or take Eurostar

they migrate each autumn, they travel quite far

so why have I not seen gazelles drive a car?

 

And why will our British slugs not take a train?

they use them in Italy, France and in Spain

much nicer than crawling, they must be insane!

so why have I never seen slugs on a train?

 

mankind has invented a wonderful thing

it’s mechanised transport, so don’t use those wings!

stop all your walking, you don’t need to crawl

with wheels and an engine it’s no work at all!

Paul Hughes 2008

Germ Warfare! April 22, 2008

 

 

Virus, I’ll spray you with poisonous stuff

you’ve driven me crazy, I’ve just had enough

you’ve made me quite ill, you’ve been playing too rough

so leave me alone or you’ll find that I’m tough

 

I’m sick of your nonsense and tired of your game

I’ll coat you in powder and you’ll be to blame

so just leave me be or I’ll load and take aim

it’s not only me, all the kids feel the same

 

You’ve not seen the chemical weapons I found

you’ve pushed me too far so now I’ll stand my ground

so get lost or you’ll need a burial mound

my mother did warn me a bug’s going round!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The end of the daily poem April 19, 2008

Hello

 

Thanks to those (over 40 people) of you who read this blog every day. I also thank those who visit this site through random hits on google. Thanks, most of all, to those who have chosen to leave comments on a regular basis.

This is a quick post to say that I am finding it impossible to continue writing a new poem everyday and so I will have to stop. I will, of course, continue to write and post but this will be at a slower pace. I think my self-compulsion to churn out verse after verse is beginning to force me to make less of some of these poems than should be the case.

Subscribe to this blog via rss (there is a link at the bottom of this page; affixed to an orange symbol) and you will be informed of when there is a new post.

Thanks for all your feedback. It has been good to hear so much positive feedback from students, teachers and professionally published poets. I will be taking time out to contact publishers over the next few days.

Keep reading!

 

Paul

 

 

Knocking on Heaven’s Door April 18, 2008

 

 

Saint Peter at the pearly gates

sits waiting for the dead

but one thing which he really hates

is being pranked instead

 

The bell rang out! he rushed to see

but found nobody there

“oh who could that prank caller be?

they gave me quite a scare!”

 

it happened once, it happened twice

Saint Peter’s face turned red

it really isn’t very nice

to mess with Peter’s head

 

the third time Peter shouted: “Man!

stop playing with the bell!

Just one more time and you’ll be banned

and sent right down to Hell!”

 

“It’s not my fault!”, a voice replied

“I’m sorry, cant you see?!”

I’m clearly dead, but still they tried

resuscitating me!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

What a Bird, That Water-Bird! April 16, 2008

 

 

do stop a moment, mother duck, I’d really like to know

a little of your language, would you take the time to show

a human how to speak those words which ducks use every day?

so let’s begin this instant, would you tell me how you say:

 

“thank you for the thought, dear girl, I love this wholegrain bread

but sometimes I would love to eat some sausage rolls instead”

 

“QUACK”

 

“the river-water chills my legs, I scrape my toes on rocks

oh how I wish I had a pair of cosy woollen socks”

 

“QUACK”

 

“It’s spring again and I must build my brood a homely nest

a place where they can watch TV and take a well-earned rest”

 

“QUACK”

 

Thank you kindly, mother duck, you’re such a clever bird

how many creatures say so much whilst using just one word?

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Secret Agent April 16, 2008

My father was a spider

my mother was a fly

now I’m a secret agent

with wings, eight legs, a SPY!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Sid and Bert April 15, 2008

 

“I wants ‘is ears Sid, and ‘is nose

I ‘ates the fingers, you ‘ave those

I wants ‘is eyes, you get the ‘ead

I takes ‘is arms an’ legs instead!”

 

Sleeping is quite hard to do

when voices speak of eating you

they’re waiting there, beneath the bed

I’m telling you, they want me dead!

But mother didn’t seem to care

insisting there was nothing there

and as she closed the bedroom door

the monsters started up once more

 

“Right you are Bert, you ‘ave that

we’ll crunch ‘is bones and chew ‘the fat

just wait ‘til ‘e gets outta bed

we’ll chomp ‘im, bite ‘im, ‘til e’s dead!”

 

MUUUUUUUUUUUUM!

 

she rushed right in, she looked annoyed

she muttered “such a silly boy

there’s nothing there, listen to me

I’ll look and show you, then you’ll see!”

but as she peered beneath the bed

those wicked monsters grabbed her head

she struggled free and said “it’s clear

you shouldn’t really sleep in here”

a pity that it took so long

for her to see that she was wrong!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Henry’s Snails April 14, 2008

 

“Begone foul snails and get thee hence!”

King Henry Tudor glowers

“You offer me no recompense

for chewing on my flowers

I’ve watched you munching on my beds

of lupins, herbs, for hours

I warn you, I’ll cut off your heads

just like that Katherine Howard’s!”

 

and even now, or so I’m taught

you’ll find no snails at Hampton Court

King Henry scared them all away

their fear continues to this day

 

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Headcase! April 12, 2008

 

 

“I’m gonna suck your blood today!”

that’s what I hear the voices say

they buzz inside my head

through every hour of the day

and when I’m in my bed

the doctors said I must be mad

“that crazy boy! It’s just too bad!”

but mum bought pediculicide

so now those nasty nits have died

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

A Lesson For Luke April 12, 2008

Just listen, Santa, dry your eyes

I see no need for tears

there’s no disaster, no surprise

as bad as it appears

so blow your nose and try to smile

do tell me what’s gone wrong

let’s take a break and sit awhile

you’ve worked for far too long

 

Now, every boy and every girl

not just in Britain, but the world

has gifts on Christmas day

 

and Santa Claus and Santa’s elves

deliver these all by themselves

there can be no delay

 

So, tell me, should we not assist

poor Santa with a little list

of all the gifts we’d like to find

beneath the tree at Christmas time?

I can’t believe this tiny task

is too much for the man to ask

he brings us joy, let’s try to help

but “NO” insists a little whelp

“NO” said Luke “I shall not write

a list, for I can’t bear the sight

of pen and paper, pen and ink!”

He kicked up quite the foulest stink

when asked to do this simple chore

“I find that writing’s such a bore!”

Now, how was Santa Claus to know

just what to give this so and so?

that’s why I found him shedding tears

he’s had this job for many years

and never has he failed to please

with wondrous presents such as……cheese

“cheese?!” you say, well, yes, it’s true

for what was Santa Claus to do?

He hadn’t ordered Luke a gift

the silly boy refused to lift

a pen to tell our Santa what

he really rather would have got

and so dear Luke received a cheese

(along with half a tin of peas)

for that’s all Santa had to hand

so now I hope Luke understands

that writing’s an important skill

we know he should, I think he will

 

Dedicated to Luke, a reluctant writer, aged 7

 

Paul Hughes 2008 

The Tragedy of Truth April 10, 2008

 

I’ve written, several times, of those

who guzzle glue or pick their nose

of kids who are unkind to beasts

or think each snack should be a feast

This blog is a menagerie

of nasty creatures such as these

 

So now I’d like to turn my pen

to nicer folk, but then again

I fear you wouldn’t care to read

a story full of worthy deeds

of kindness and of manners mild

you much prefer the awful child

but just read on and you will see

how such a thing as honesty

can bring you to a horrid end

upon my word you can depend

 

Now, Simon was a lovely boy

he brought his parents so much joy

polite and thoughtful, full of fun

thought highly of by everyone

and that’s the context of this verse

it sounds quite nice, it gets MUCH worse!

one day as Simon sat in church

he saw a plaque carved out of birch

 

“one lie does one more lie beget

we haven’t seen the last one yet”

 

That’s how the plaque’s inscription read

it sank into our Simon’s head

and so he swore “Me, Simon, I

will never, ever, EVER lie

I swear by Jesus in his crib

to never tell another fib”

so, as he walked home after mass

he came upon a little lass

Well, “little’s” not the thing I mean

for “young” is better, as this scene

will show, I’m sure you will agree

What happened next? listen to me:

“Hello Jill” our Simon said

“you’re very fat, for just your head

must weigh about a half a ton

good day!” he said and walked right on

“I didn’t lie, hurrah for me!

I am as honest as can be!”

that’s what that silly Simon thought

but then he met a Mrs Short

“Hello” sang Simon, clear and bright

“you really are a shocking sight

your nose is just a bunch of warts

and why must people put on shorts

when they have dreadful pudgy thighs?

your choice of clothes is most unwise!”

“Good day!” said Simon, on he strolled

all puffed up, proud, for he’d not told

a single fib, the smallest lie

and though he’d made two people cry

he would not stop, he couldn’t see

how hurtful telling truths can be

he told poor Sally that she stank

“your odour and your breath are rank”

and Milly learned her bum was big

dear Mrs Brown looked “like a pig”

the twins were told their ears stuck out

their mother’s lips looked “like a trout’s”

he carried on throughout the town

from half past twelve until sun-down

and nobody escaped the truth

not Billy, Jenny, Fred or Ruth

not Hattie, Kelly, John or Jake

they begged him “please, for pity’s sake

just stop your mouth and save our hurt

you better had, you little squirt!”

‘til finally they’d had enough

and so a local pair of toughs

picked up a cane, a cricket bat

for everyone decided that

they’d have to spank the nasty brat

“We’ll smack that bottom ‘til it’s FLAT!”

We’ll teach the boy that it’s no crime

to hide the truth from time to time!”

So Simon didn’t feel so proud

when cornered by this seething crowd

of red-faced, screeching, fuming folk

who hadn’t liked the truths he spoke

He ran, they chased, he tried to flee

but when they cried out “where is he?”

he shouted back “I’m up this tree!

I’ll always tell the truth you see!”

oh what a stupid so and so

he’d sworn an oath to truth, you know

he couldn’t lie to save his skin

despite the trouble he was in

but, luckily, his mum came by

and made the boy confess and cry:

“I swear, I do, I will refrain

from stating that which causes pain!”

and with this vow the mob concurred

to take our Simon at his word

and since that day he hasn’t said

a nasty word, but knows instead

that truth will never cause offence

when softened with a pinch of sense

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Artificial Indolence April 8, 2008

My mum is such a silly moo

she always tells me what to do

I get so bored of having chores

like cleaning rooms and sweeping floors

or making beds and brushing stairs

these are the jobs I just can’t bear

and so, one day, I took some bolts

tin cans and screws, a thousand volts

electric wires and circuitry

I made a metal boy like me

a robot who would do the work

I’d always done my best to shirk

he clunked and clinked and clanked a bit

but housework – he was good at it

my bed was made, my room was clean

he really was a great machine

I slept in late and watched TV

whilst he cooked breakfast, lunch and tea

and in return for all his toil

I fed him high-grade engine oil

But one day I returned from school

to find he’d done no work at all

he’d wasted the entire day

in chatting with the microwave

(whose real name, I’m told, is “Dave”)

in playing Wii with “Tom” TV

and playing cards or climbing trees

I shouted: “get upstairs to bed

I’ll do it all myself instead!”

but then I froze, for I’d become

precisely like my poor old mum!

 

the moral of this verse is plain:

I’ll scrap this ‘bot and try again

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Harry the Halibut April 8, 2008

Our Harry is a halibut

so curious is he

he spends his time in pondering

the questions of the sea

of how the dogfish lost his bark

and why the oyster sings

of how the lobster grew his claws

and flying fish their wings

he wonders why the seahorse neighs

yet never wins a race

he wants to know if catfish miaow

and how to talk with plaice

he asked his mum if he could pose

a question, she did nod

“it’s this which bothers me the most:

should fish believe in Cod?”

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Lazy Bird April 7, 2008

 

I have a swallow for a friend

I call this bird “Jacinta”

she’s very lazy, so I tend

to drive her south for winter

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Sandwich Of The Damned! April 6, 2008

 

 

I’ve been sailing with a yeti

and I’ve drunk an oyster’s cocoa

I have eaten blue spaghetti

and danced salsa with a do-do

 

Perhaps you think this mad or weird, peculiar or strange

Or maybe you’ve decided that I must be quite deranged

 

but listen to me now and I will tell you such a tale

to terrify and horrify and leave you looking pale

and if, today, your mum has made you sandwiches for tea

you will refuse to eat them. Don’t believe me? We will see!

 

This morning I made sandwiches but when I took a bite

the sandwich screamed, I kid you not, it gave me quite a fright

it leapt for freedom, called for help and cried big salty tears

and wailed with a piercing scream which rather hurt my ears

 

I couldn’t speak, quite lost for words, for what was I to do?

I bet that if you had been there you’d feel the same way too

I wouldn’t say that self defence could ever be called rude

but I really don’t expect it from a simple piece of food

 

Already tense, I had a sense

that we were not alone

and as I turned to face the fridge

I uttered such a groan

as never had been heard before

for with a terrifying roar

My food attacked me armed with sticks and stones

 

My eggs were cruelly beating me

It was a horrid scene

My cream then started whipping me

How could it be so mean?

onions jabbed me in the eye

how dare my onions make me cry?

My head was bruised by flying tins of beans

 

I tried my best to save my skull from being battered in

I closed my eyes and said my prayers, I knew I couldn’t win

Everything fell silent so I opened up my eyes

I wasn’t dead, but living, and to my extreme surprise

I later learned the reason why my battering had stopped

My food had gone to free its friends from superstores and shops

 

moral

 

when eating foodstuffs made of cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, bread

you’d better do your utmost to make sure that it’s all dead

 

 

Paul Hughes, 2008

Boys and Bombs April 5, 2008

Cursing and screaming

His eyes burning red

The little bad boy

Stuffed bombs in her bed

 

moral

 

Beware the son you’ve just corrected

He may do something unexpected

 

 Paul Hughes 2008

Stocks And Shares And Stockings Bare April 4, 2008

  

You’d best save up for Christmas time

For Santa doesn’t have a dime

He put his cash in stocks and shares

The crisis caught him unawares

He’s only left with lumps of coal

And Rudolf looks inside his bowl

To find there’s nothing left to eat

But mouldy turkey, that’s no treat!

And pity those poor little elves

Who look on gaping, empty, shelves

He’s so depressed, give him a lift

And send poor Santa Claus a gift

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Incredible, inedible! April 3, 2008

 

Have you ever eaten wood or munched a traffic cone?

Or chomped on nails and paperclips while sucking lumps of stone?

Perhaps you eat remote controls or chew on metal foil

And wash it down with axle grease or dirty engine oil?

 

By now you’re thinking: “what a fool to ask such silly questions

Why is this man so stupid? That would give me indigestion!”

But listen up, I speak the truth, my brother eats this stuff

He hates his food all soft and smooth, he likes it to be tough

 

Now, yesterday he ate a lamp and mother’s coffee table

Before he was electrocuted, chewing through a cable

So now he lies in hospital, we don’t know if he’ll make it

They try to give him medicine, if only he would take it

 

He’s eaten his heart monitor and swallowed nurse’s sandals

He even ate a wooden door, complete with both its handles

Lying on the floor he has no pillow for his head

He ate it for his breakfast and for lunch he ate his bed

 

I daren’t visit anymore, it’s nearly time for tea

There’s nothing left for him to eat except, that is, for me!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

It’s a thrill to be ill! April 2, 2008

 

 

I wake up every morning and I check myself for spots

For rashes, lumps and temperature and hope that I have got

An illness, for I like my medication

 

And if I’m sick I jump for joy and thank my lucky stars

What could it be? Perhaps it’s flu, or jaundice, even SARS

I’ll see my doctor for an explanation

 

Just show me any kind of germ I’ll do my best to catch it

You have a snotty tissue? Then I’ll do my best to snatch it

There’s nothing like an illness to excite or truly thrill me

I’ll try my luck with anything and hope it nearly kills me

 

I envy all you children with your chickenpox and chills

For being young is such a laugh, you lot are always ill

with colds and mumps and scrapes and bumps, I’m jealous of your pain

Oh how I wish that I could be so young and ill again !

 

But then, today, I woke up with a quite delicious rash

I thought “I must get dressed at once and to my doctor dash”

But as I ran across the road

I quite forgot the green cross code

A lorry turned the corner and then “CRASH!”

 

Moral

 

So do your best, dear children, to avoid those nasty germs

Or else you’ll end up just like me

A dinner for the worms

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Death-Breath And The Drill April 1, 2008

  

Now, no-one likes to clean their teeth

But unlike silly Sam McCreath

We’d rather suffer paste and brush

Than see our molars turn to mush

Yet Sam McCreath would scream and shout

“I’d sooner have them taken out”

He’d pout and stamp his stubborn feet

Whilst slurping chocs and scoffing sweets

His mother said “my boy, your breath

Does stink of rotten fish and death

Your teeth have gone from white to brown

It’s dentist time, we’ll go to town”

How Sammy cried, how Sammy wailed

Yet mother’s will, at last, prevailed

She strapped him to the dentist’s chair

And held him tightly by the hair

The dentist poked, the dentist drilled

Poor Sammy thought he would be killed

He filled the air with dreadful screams

Which could be heard in France, it seems

(because they don’t speak English there

They didn’t understand or care)

The dentist worked all day and night

When morning came, to Sam’s delight

He stopped and packed his tools away

And Sammy ran outside to play

(whilst his poor mum was left to pay)

But when our Sammy tried to speak

His friends all sniggered “what a freak!”

For here’s the truth (it’s oh so chilling!)

Sam’s mouth was one great metal filling

And what is still more fright’ning

He keeps being struck by lightning

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Lazy Fish March 31, 2008

 

The creatures of the ocean blue

Are lazier than me and you

They swim around in silly shoals

Without an aim, an end, a goal

And so it’s no surprise to find

They do not care to tax their minds

So haven’t worked out, as of yet

How best to dodge the trawler’s net

They will not take the time to look

For lurking fishing line and hook

And thus they end up on a plate

They learn their lesson far too late

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Angry Girl! March 30, 2008

 

I have a horrid brother, Tim

I’d really like to smother him

and feed his nasty body to the dog

 

He flicks his bogies in my hair

he makes me cry and doesn’t care

and once he flushed my head right down the bog

 

But now I’m gonna pay him back

the best form of defence: attack

and when I’m done he’ll wish that he was dead

 

I’ll fill his pants with superglue

and hide some dog-muck in his shoe

and then I’ll tell his friends he wets the bed

 

BUT

 

Nothing happened as I planned it

for my mum caught me red-handed

and in my panic everything went wrong

 

Now I’m covered in the superglue

all mixed up with the doggy poo

oh what an icky, yicky, sticky pong!

 

Do I have to write a moral?

I suppose I really ought

if you do something immoral

just ensure you don’t get caught!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

 

dots and spots March 29, 2008

 

I see the leopard’s spots

and I feel I have to laugh

I spy the tiger’s stripes

and the dots on the giraffe

I marvel at the methods used

to stop one being seen

and wonder why they never think

of simply being green.

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Walking Tall with Cannibals March 27, 2008

  

I’ve seen chimpanzees and lemurs on the moon

all-a-dancing whilst gorillas play bassoon

I’ve heard apples debate Plato

with a wise old baked potato

but I’ve never heard a lemon sing in tune

 

But none of this compares with what I saw

as I woke up with a scream at ten to four

there were pygmies round my bed

pointing spears right at my head

and I found their smell too dreadful to ignore

 

The leader of this frightful troupe

had plans to boil me up for soup

he looked me up and down with hungry eyes

but when he saw my skinny frame

he snorted that he would refrain

from eating such an unappealing prize

 

Unhappy with his attitude

I asked him not to be so rude

explaining that I really was a treat

“I think I would taste rather nice

be my guest, do try a slice

I wager that I’m very good to eat”

 

But still he wasn’t satisfied

and so I went downstairs and fried

my liver in a rather lovely sauce

again, he said he wasn’t sure

and feared he’d have to try some more

and so I groaned and cooked another course

 

A buttock roast and eyes on toast

he liked my battered ears the most

I felt as if he’d finally come round

and, sure as eggs, he was quite full

he shook my hand and said “dear Paul

you’re quite the nicest meal that I have found”

 

The moral of this horrid verse:

rejection’s bad, acceptance worse

within an hour or two I’d fallen dead

but if you are a hungry man

there’s lots of me left in the pan

and in the fridge you’ll find a loaf of bread.

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

The Shark March 26, 2008

 

If only sharks could learn to eat

Green vegetables instead of meat

 

They’d see their reputation

Improved through adulation

 

For people who in oceans play

Would rather sharks just stayed away

Yet would forgive these fearsome beasts

If they should turn to leafy feasts

(or gave up swimmers in the least)

 

But will this happen? I think not

For leopard sharks don’t change their spots

 

Paul Hughes 2008

A Sticky Situation March 25, 2008

 

Betty Drew loved drinking glue

and though it’s not the thing to do

she’d slurp a pint of PVA for lunch

 

And where we would have bread and cheese

she thumbed her nose at foods like these

preferring to eat pritt-sticks for her brunch

 

So when Betty sat upon the loo

she found that paper wouldn’t do

her faeces were stuck fast like sun-baked tar

 

She used soap and turps to shift ‘em

even acid wouldn’t lift them

and TNT was judged a step too far

 

So she tried coarse-grain sandpaper

and her father’s old ice-scraper

but nothing could quite clean her fundament

 

Her parents searched for good advice

and, being rich, could pay the price

so Betty isn’t poor but sits in solvent

 

Paul Hughes 2008

I’m your mummy, mother! March 24, 2008

   

My organs were extracted

and then placed into a jar

in which she poured herbs, spices

all imported from afar

my corpse was washed with natron

and was stuffed with rags and sand

then my mother stitched me up

with pale and trembling hands

but when I saw the hieroglyphs

and read their strange inscriptions

“Mum!” I shouted out at once

“you know we ain’t Egyptians!”

 

A trip to the museum put the idea in her head

I never would have minded if I’d actually been dead.

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Balderdash on bulls who dash March 23, 2008

 

I ran across the farmer’s field

I marvelled at my speed

I broke the landspeed record

I was very fast indeed

but now I am in A&E

my limbs are wrapped in plaster

despite my high velocity

the bull did run still faster

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Planet Janet March 22, 2008

 

Our Janet was a greedy girl.

the greediest in all the world.

She’d wake at dawn and chomp ‘til night.

It was a most distressing sight.

She’d scoff a horse to break her fast,

with loaves of bread to make it last,

and then she’d settle down for brunch

before she started on her lunch,

which lasted ‘til she had her tea.

Oh, what a tale of gluttony!

At night she’d wake at four to snack.

You see, her meals came back to back.

It all formed quite a nasty list

of horrid, lard-soaked, avarice.

Her parents tried to make her slim,

they cried “you used to be so thin!

You really need to start a diet,

we’d be so pleased if you’d just try it.”

But Janet couldn’t bear to cease

consuming vast amounts of grease.

In time, of course, she grew so wide

astronomers could not decide

if Janet should be classified

a planet or an asteroid.

But all agreed she could not stay

on Earth another single day,

and so the superpowers raced

to blast her into outer-space.

Where she remains, you’ll see her soon.

For, why, she is our silver moon!

 

Paul Hughes 2008

 

The Cloche March 21, 2008

 

I have a friend, she did propose

that I should write about a rose

well, not a rose, if truth be told

but that which stops it catching cold

and so I write this utter tosh

to prove that something rhymes with “cloche”

 

My friend has asked this of me since

I made her read “The Little Prince”

a story which I recommend

to those who have their own dear friend

 

The author’s name sounds strange to me

“Antoine de Saint Exupery”

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Penguin March 21, 2008

 

The penguin’s diet consists of fish

oh, how he tires of that dish

for these birds love an arctic roll

yet dwell upon the other pole

so cannot find this tasty treat

and only get more fish to eat

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Cockerel March 21, 2008

 

The cockerel is a noisy bird

the more he crowed

the less he heard

the less he heard

the less he knew

a lesson there

for me and you

 

Paul Hughes 2008

My Sole Concern March 20, 2008

  

I’m glad I’m not a centipede

I can’t afford the shoes

For, why, you don’t see millipedes

Dolled up in Jimmy Choos

 

The fewer shoes I need to buy

The happier I’ll be

That’s why you’ll never see me cry

For snakes or amputees

 

Paul Hughes 2008

The Legend of Billy McCread March 18, 2008

 

You’ll remember the story of Jake

Ah, yes, that was incredibly sad

And I wonder what it will now take

For you all to denounce me as mad

 

I assure you my stories are true

And I beg you to listen, take heed

For this next tale will terrify you

It’s the legend of Billy McCread

 

Now Billy was an evil lad

His grim demise will make you glad

Once you know how it occurred

You’ll see his death was well deserved.

How nasty is a boy who pulls

The heads from ants, the tails of bulls?

How wicked is the brat who tears

The legs from spiders, ears from hares?

Each creature on his parents’ farm

Had suffered varied kinds of harm

All animals had cause to fear

The day on which he would appear

On Sundays he’d throw stones at cows

On Mondays he’d torment the sows

On Tuesdays he’d pour paint on lambs

On Wednesdays he’d stick pins in rams

On Thursdays he’d tattoo the dogs

On Fridays he liked salting frogs

On Saturdays he’d mock the goats

And inbetween set fire to stoats

He really was an awful youth

Now hear me tell the dreadful truth

Of how he met his gruesome fate

He learned his lesson far too late

In time his victims made a pact

Together, soon, in league they’d act

To put an end to Billy’s schemes

To realise their lovely dreams

Of life without the awful boy

Of times of peace, of days of joy

And so, one night, as Billy slept

The beasts into his bedroom crept

Then with their teeth, horns, hooves and claws

They bit and stamped and chomped and gored

‘til Billy was a gooey pile

Of bones and flesh and blood so vile

A very nasty end indeed

For wicked little Bill McCread

 

The moral, as you would expect

Is “treat all beasts with due respect”

 Paul Hughes 2008

With friends like these… March 17, 2008

I show no kindness to the bee

I curse and chase him daily

for once I tried to cook him tea

and guess how he repaid me 

I found him on my windowsill

he looked so very hungry

I cooked him supper but he still

buzzed angrily and stung me 

I tucked him snugly into bed

he felt no gratitude

my arm was swollen, sore and red

why must he be so rude? 

I’ll trust no bee for quite a while

I’ve found another friend

He’s such a lovely crocodile

and ARGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! 

The end!

Paul Hughes 2008

Bird Rage March 14, 2008

 

I pluck the feathers from the bird

And tie his beak with string

For I am told, though it’s absurd

That he can fly and sing

 

For why should birds be left to soar

When I must walk each day?

Who is that pounding on my door?

 

The RSPCA!!!!!

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Bad taste March 14, 2008

Copyright Dennis Kunkel Microscopy, Inc.

Our bovine friends do chew the cud

The earthworm likes to digest mud

And tapeworms feast on human waste

I find these foods are not my taste

I’d rather lunch on bread and cheese

Than munch on horrid things like these

Paul Hughes 2008

Bumcrackatoa March 12, 2008

Young Freddie was a naughty boy

 

who’d do things simply to annoy

He’d show the worst impertinence

And revelled in his flatulence

He’d fart all day and parp all night

It gave his sister quite a fright

The stench would make you curl your toes

And burn the hairs inside your nose

His parents said he must desist

“refrain from habits such as this”

But Freddie kept emitting gas

It caused him untold grief, alas

For tiring of his usual farts

He thought “I must improve my art

I’ll make the most tremendous noise

To ever come from little boys”

And so he ate three tins of beans

Then jars of pickled aubergines

Hard boiled eggs and lots of curry

He ate them all in such a hurry

Fred hadn’t stopped for long when he

Collapsed in dreadful agony

His guts recoiled, his stomach churned

His colon and his bowels were burned

Poor Freddie had become quite ill

His gasses gathered strength until

They burst forth with a mighty roar

As never had been heard before

Though I was once told in Samoa

That louder still was Krakatoa

I can’t be sure and I digress

It was so loud that nonetheless

The blast was heard in Sicily

And Freddie died quite messily

Ripped open by a wind so strong

Asphyxiated by the pong

Though wracked with grief his parents knew

That Fred’s last wish, at least, came true. 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Whale meat again! March 12, 2008

Do not invite the whale to tea

He’ll make no conversation

He’ll break your chairs (and crockery!)

Oh cretinous cetacean!

He won’t be grateful for his food

Whales have no social graces

He’ll scream for plankton (he’s so rude!)

whilst pulling ugly faces

So if it is advice you need

I  recommend the seal

for he’s a pleasant guest (indeed!)

He’ll thank you for his meal

Paul Hughes 2008

The grim demise of Jimmy Price March 11, 2008

 

 

A foolish boy named Jimmy Price

refused to take his mum’s advice

and kept on poking up his nose

his fingers, thumbs and, once, his toes

nose picking gave him endless joy

oh what a frightful, horrid, boy

his mother told him that his head

would cave right in and he’d be dead

but Jimmy knew that this was bluff

“it’s such an awful lot of guff

there’s really nothing wrong with snot

I’ll pick my nose and eat the lot”

he scraped and plucked his nostrils clean

it was a truly gruesome scene

ignoring every sign of pain

he rummaged ‘til he found his brain

which out he pulled without a thought

and that’s the end of my report

for Jimmy died right there and then

he never picked his nose again

 

Moral

 

It’s most unsatisfactory

to eat what is olfactory

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Jack (not Spratt) March 10, 2008

 

I lurk upon the ocean floor

And pounce on smaller fish

Then pull their guts out just before

I bake them in a dish

 

I’ve done this every single night

Since I was a nipper

That’s why you’ll hear fish scream with fright

“Run, it’s Jack the Kipper!”

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Bull Dog March 10, 2008

 

My British Bull dog doesn’t bark

He greets me with a “moo”

For he learned a second language

At the local petting zoo

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Lion’s heart March 9, 2008

 

The lion loved the antelope

his love was unrequited

she laughed and said “we can’t elope”

here are the reasons cited:

 

“The matter of your diet

gives me cause for some alarm

you’d soon eat me, don’t deny it

and I’d rather not be harmed

 

Your mane is far too hairy

and you haven’t any horns

I confess I find you scary!”

lion’s heart was ripped and torn

 

Now, he trimmed his mane and tail

lion tried so hard to win her

but found it was to no avail

so ate her for his dinner

 

Moral

 

It is an incredible bungle

to be rude to the king of the jungle

 

Paul Hughes 2008

Dead miserable March 9, 2008

When people die they talk a load of rot

and moan at how the living are so noisy

they really are a pessimistic lot

their lack of joie de vivre quite annoys me

The Octopus March 8, 2008

 

I curse the Octopus’ skill

for I am struggling

I practise hard but he is still

the best at juggling

Chicken Boy March 8, 2008

There was no prior warning

but one cold winter’s morning

I was covered in a thousand itchy spots

I called mum in to tell her

she said “it’s varicella

but its common name is simply chickenpox”

as she stood beside my bed

feathers sprouted from my head

and I clucked and squawked whilst feeling rather weak

So I asked her for some grain

when I felt an awful pain

as my mouth and nose transformed into a beak

The doctor could do nothing

(but recommended stuffing)

and I’ll tell you now what upsets me the most

Even though I lay nice eggs

mummy grabbed me by the legs

and is plucking me for Sunday evening’s roast!

 

 

Lazy Dogs March 7, 2008

The dog is such a lazy beast

he can’t be bothered in the least

with washing cars

or cooking food

and tending bars

or chopping wood

he simply shirks

all kinds of work

they say he is a man’s best friend

but men do toil until their end

and dogs don’t care to lend a hand

they do not seem to understand

that friendship is reciprocal

they beg but do not help at all

On reflection

 My darling wife does now insist

that I retract and do desist

defaming those of canine bent

so now it seems I must repent

and compensate my doggy friends

perhaps some bones will make amends?

The Ostrich March 7, 2008

The Ostrich is the largest bird

and that’s the reason why

no matter how he flaps his wings

he cannot hope to fly

Kafkaesque Screams March 6, 2008

I was feeling quite unwell

But I found the strength to tell

My dear doctor that I needed medication

So she looked me in the eye

With a poorly stifled cry

And examined me with open trepidation

She said “you may not know this

but here’s my diagnosis

This is my strangest case in quite a while

You’ve had a transformation

In my consideration

You have turned into a monstrous crocodile”

I retorted “that’s absurd

And I can’t believe a word

For Kafka never wrote a tale so ghoulish”

Then I ate her for my tea

As she cried “oh woe is me

to talk to crocodiles is rather foolish!”

Moral: some books MUST be judged by their covers.

Paul Hughes 2008

Pach yer trunks and go! March 6, 2008

If it should ever come to pass

That elephants exhaust their grass

And search for pastures new

So lumbering through Italy

Then Savoie, Lille and Picardy

And o’er the Channel blue

They came to rest in Oxfordshire

Attracted by its lush verdure

I’d know not what to do 

For fencing of the kind we know

Would fail to stop a buffalo

So elephants would come and go

Without further ado 

my Buttercups and dahlias

my Hollyhocks, azaleas

Would make them but a snack

Nothing would them satisfy

Not artichokes nor salsify

Oh woe is me, alack 

So if you chance on pachyderms

Whilst sightseeing in kent

Please see to it that they return

To Europe’s continent!

on reflection: 

I've come to fear that some may judge this selfish attitude

so let me say I did not mean this poem to be rude

if savannah were a feature of my garden then it's plain

no grumbling would pass my lips, complaining I'd disdain

yet in my cottage garden there's no room for such as these

and so I'd rather keep them from my raspberries and peas.

Paul Hughes 2008

No killing but kindness March 6, 2008

He is trained in jujitsu

in karate, with knives

but he’d rather eat tofu

than take innocent lives

He’ll send flowers and sweets

parcel bombs he disdains

he’ll slip sugar in tea

cyanide down the drains

He’s the loveliest hitman

you ever could meet

but he don’t make no dough, man

he sleeps on the street.

Paul Hughes 2008

 

Jake the Cake March 6, 2008

 

 

Now a story, so tragic, so horrid, I’ll tell

of malevolent magic  which one day befell

two good people who lived just outside Motherwell.

 

They had waited nine months for the birth of their child

the father was loving, the mother was mild

the name they’d selected for their first-born was Jake

but the scans hadn’t seen that his head was a cake.

 

At the moment our hero emerged from the womb

the mother gasped, wept, and fell into a swoon

the midwife boiled custard and then called for a spoon

 

consultants and researchers pored through libraries and books

then turned to great philosophers and modern pastry cooks

the answer, as it turned out, was the mother’s awful diet

For every time she’d seen a cake she felt compelled to try it

 

Jake’s mother had abstained from booze, tobacco and blue cheese

Instead she always spent her time in French patisseries

and her excessive intake gave Jake “Gateau-Head disease”

 

Four days old, Jake’s head grew mould and reeked of putrefaction

The doctor cried “we must be bold and take some drastic action

He’s past his best, his almonds blanched, his raisins have turned pale

I hate to have to tell you this, he really is quite stale”

 

His cream transfusions failed to stop Jake’s journey into night

and at his wake there was a rather strange satanic sight

when relatives who nibbled said “Jake’s jam still tastes alright.”

 

 

 

Paul Hughes 2008