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

Hello!

Two of my poems have been published in “My Cat is in Love with The Goldfish.” It’s an anthology compiled by Graham Denton and was published in February 2010. You can order it here:

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http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=my+cat+is+in+love+with+the+goldfish&x=0&y=0

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Three more are included in James Carter’s anthology: “How To Turn Your Teacher Purple.” It’s a collection of poems on the theme of science, in a range of styles, and was published by AC & Black in February 2011. Order it here:

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http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=how+to+turn+your+teacher+purple&x=0&y=0

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Another will be included in Celia Warren’s RSPB wildlife anthology, to be published by AC & Black, due out in August 2011. You can pre-order it here:

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http://www.amazon.co.uk/RSPB-Anthology-Wildlife-Poetry/dp/1408131188/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1298629171&sr=8-1

And two more will be included in Graham Denton’s latest anthology: “When Granny Won Olympic Gold!” which is due to be published in August 2011. It’ll be published by my favourite publishers: AC& Black and You can pre-order it here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/When-Granny-Olympic-Gold-Medal-Winning/dp/1408131498/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1300816846&sr=8-1

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I have one more anthology in the pipeline. Here’s hoping I get some poems in that too! Fingers crossed, please…

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I’ve begun to perform my poems in Oxford’s Catweazle Club. It happens every Thursday in Cowley Road’s East Oxford Community Centre. It’s an “open mic without the mic” event and  is a lovely place to perform and watch others. I’m hoping to tread the boards in a few years, touring schools, and this is proving to be good practice.

Thanks for visiting!

Paul

Haiku May 30, 2011

Poison stars thread silk

in deathly constellations.

Cricket’s song unsung.

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Well, I don’t pretend to be any good at Haiku but I’m emerging from a very dry spell (training as a psychotherapist is draining my creative juices) and thought I’d have to write something. James Carter once said he writes haiku when he’s short of ideas. So, it seems a valid exercise. James hates limericks. I like them. So, here’s one I wrote this morning.

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Bill was a corgi from Kent

The Queen said “your tail is bent!

But wag it, dear fella,

and like a propellor ,

you’ll pass by with royal ascent.”

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Madam Topping assures me that the plural of “haiku” is “haiku.” So, thank you Ma’am and apologies to all…

Mix – up Mum April 29, 2011

The car is in the sitting room,

the sofa’s on the street.

She wears her slippers on her hands,

her gloves upon her feet.

You think that’s bad? This evening

she called “it’s tea-time Kate!”

My chips are in the toilet.

And what’s that on my plate?

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Alice Hughes (with help from Daddy) 2011

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Aliceis 6 and wrote most of this. I just tidied it a little. Of course, she’s entirely to blame for the toilet humour element…

Be Cool! Bee School. April 25, 2011

Mumble Bee, speak clearly!

I can’t hear a word you’re saying.

Careful, silly Stumble Bee

and don’t fall over, playing!

Fumble Bee, just put it down!

“It’s fine, Miss Bumble!” SMASH!

Tumble Bee, get down from there!

“It’s cool Miss Bumble!” CRASH!

What a mess, young Jumble Bee!

It’s time to clear away!

Stop that whining Grumble Bee!

You’re grumpier each day.

Good work, little Humble Bee!

Yes, three and two makes five!

If only all the other bees

would learn how to BEHIVE!

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Paul Hughes 2011

Fish ‘n’ Ships! April 16, 2011

Crab-Catcher Ned is no more, he is dead.

They found him pan-fried in his skillet.

And Whaler-man Bill seemed quite healthy until

I thought “I could murder a fillet!”

Since time immemorial folk piscatorial

dined on ancestors of mine.

And that’s why I killed him, I gutted and grilled him.

He tasted so good with some wine!

You hook us, mistreat us, you bake, fry and eat us

but now I am coming for YOU!

I’ll sink all your ships and eat sailors with chips,

with ketchup and tartare sauce too!

So go tell your skipper my name: “Jack the Kipper!”

Go tell him I’m coming to meet him!

Eel whale and yelp, yes eel beg Cod for kelp

But no pun can help him, I’ll EAT HIM!

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Paul Hughes 2011

The Starving Lion and The Very Sly Rabbit March 23, 2011

 

“Rabbit!” said Lion, “I’m finished!

my mane has grown brittle and thinner.

My once-fearsome roar is diminished

and all for the lack of a dinner!”

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Rabbit agreed: “it’s the end,

my legs have lost all of their hop!

And look at my ears, dearest friend.

They flip and they flap and they flop!

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I wish we had something to eat;

a snack as we slip to our doom,

a small final wish dish or treat.

Just something to lighten our gloom!”

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“My brother, I only have you,

and,” Lion declared, “you have me!

I have an idea – what we’ll do

is munch on each other for tea!”

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So Rabbit fetched logs and a pot.

He leapt in and seasoned the stew.

He waited until it grew hot

and said “ I believe I’m cooked through!”

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He jumped from the pot with a grin.

“We’ll eat when we’re both fully done!”

Poor Lion agreed and leapt in,

was boiled alive and fed one.

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Paul Hughes 2011

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This is based on an African tale, told to me by one of my students…

The “Joys” of Spring… March 8, 2011

The collared dove is cooing for a mate,

for a mate.

The robin tweets so sweetly on the gate,

on the gate.

The sparrows chirp and chatter

as the sticky buds grow fatter

and I wake up with a groan at ten to eight.

TEN TO EIGHT!?

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For Spring now sings the song we love so well.

Yeah,  ”so” well…

its voice resounds through meadow, dale and dell,

Dale and dell!

Sing it any louder

I shall fetch my gun and powder

and I’ll blast you feathered, flying freaks to Hell!

GO TO HELL!

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Photo: http://mygreenroute.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/bird-at-spring.jpg

 

Her Grandfather’s Embrace February 27, 2011

 

This is a true story which a good friend told me a few days ago. It happened to him, though I’ve changed the name and the sex of the child for dramatic effect. It’s about a Romanian custom which still goes on in certain parts of the country. “Tata” is Romanian for “father.” You probably shouldn’t read this if you’re under 10 and about to go to bed. Still, since children still read about werewolves, vampires, zombies and stuff like that, it’s probably not so bad.

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The old man lay upon his bed, his children gathered round.

He searched, with fading sight, for “Catalina?

I hear the worms, they call for me. They wait beneath the ground.

I shouldn’t like to meet them ‘til I’ve seen her.”

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“She’s home in bed, my dear Tata. Your grandchild comes tonight.

Her joy in giving life is drowned in tears.”

The old man rasped his final words, “Go tell her it’s alright!

I’ll see her and the child in seven years!”

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Ariadna, raven haired, was told of how he’d died,

of how the people whispered she’d replaced him.

She trembled as they told her with an ancient peasant pride

that she would soon go with them all to face him.

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“We take the bones at seven years and scrub them down with wine.

It helps us to be certain he’s at rest.

We hold a service, say our prayers, we kneel and make the sign.

We say our last goodbyes, the grave is blessed.”

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And so at seven years of age they took her to the grave.

The air was thick with fog and with decay.

“Go on, look,” they urged her, “Ariadna, please be brave!”

She turned to run but slipped upon the clay.

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She screamed within the clutch of death, they pulled her from the bones.

And now they laugh: “you should have seen your face!

He only wanted company, he’s down there all alone.”

She shudders still, the stench of his embrace!

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Paul Hughes 2011

 

Romain Billaux: Job Scare February 23, 2011

Salut tous le monde. Une prof Francaise a utilise mes poemes pour enseigner ses eleves comment parler en Anglais. Elle a enregistre les resultats et voici ma poeme “Job Scare,” lu par un Francais. Tres bien lu, Romain! Merci!

Billaux Romain – Job Scare(2)

 

Hello all. A kind French teacher, Jenny Leger, has been using my poems to teach her students how to speak English. Here is one of her students, Romain Billaux, reading “Job Scare.” Well done Romain!

Hey, Mister, Why The Long Face? February 17, 2011

 

“It’s time that my heart did its duty

and told you: ‘I love you, my beauty!’

I love you in leather,

I’ll love you forever,

my grass munching, oat crunching cutie!”

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“I love you, please let me explain.

I worship each hair of your mane.

My heart gallops madly.

I’d die for you gladly.

I’m crazy about you, insane!”

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“I love you in every way!

So let’s take a roll in the hay!

Please tell me you love me!

Place no-one above me!”

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She looked at him, frowned and said “Nay!”

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Paul Hughes 2011

Angela Topping’s School Visits February 10, 2011

I had the pleasure, this week, of watching Angela Topping perform at two local secondary schools.

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Angela is well known for her collections such as “The Fiddle,” “I Sing of Bricks,” and “Dandelions for Mothers’ Day.”  She has also, however, made a big splash in the world of Children’s poetry with her recently published “The New Generation.”

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And so I had the pleasure of watching her perform a variety of these poems to children (aged 11-14) in two local secondary schools.  Her performances are interactive, entertaining, educational and full of nuggets of poetic brilliance and inspiration for the poets of tomorrow. She has a lovely way with students and they warmed to her personable manner. I intend to visit schools in the future and watching her perform was a wonderful demonstration of what can be achieved when a skilled poet, with a warm personality, meets with students.

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She is currently willing to perform for free, particularly to schools local to her Cheshire home, and I’d advise any teachers reading this to have her visit ASAP!

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You can contact her via anji.topping@homecall.co.uk or through her blog: http://angelatopping.wordpress.com

 

Fun-sucker! February 8, 2011

 

 

Mirth would muddy melancholy,

dent her dismal discontent.

It’s best avoided! Guard the void,

it hoovers up the hope, you see,

extinguishing the need to act

and lends a martyr’s mantle.

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Misery loves company.

I see them shrink before her gloom

and choke within its grasping cloud.

It clasps them all, becomes a tomb

where doom becomes joy’s binding shroud.

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Take my hand, we’ll find a place

where smiles flit, unchained.

We’ll set sweet laughter leaping, free

from fear of sour faces.

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Paul Hughes 2011

 

Sammy The Starfish January 28, 2011

 

 

 

Sammy spied the sweetest starfish sitting on the sand.

Her legs lay long, her skin shone saffron yellow.

He simply had to talk to her, to make her understand

that he was quite a lovely, handsome fellow.

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He swiftly sidled up to her and took her in his arms.

“I love you, yes I do, I can’t deny it!

Your eyes, they twinkle, little star. I’m dazzled by your charms!”

But she said nothing, motionless and quiet.

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Sammy cooked her stir-fried shrimp. He was completely smitten.

He sang her salty songs from seven seas.

He even bought a tiny mewing tabby catfish kitten.

She seemed completely bored by all of these.

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Sammy bawled blue briny tears, “My heart’s about to break!

I long to win your heart, to earn your love!”

A pretty passing jellyfish called out “for goodness sake!

It serves you right for falling for a glove!”

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Paul Hughes 2011

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Another poem on the theme of starfish and gloves:

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My Granny the Starfish

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Granny made Grandpa a sweater.

He thanked her, “my darling, my love!

No sweater was ever knit better.

My pet, it fits just like a glove!”

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Paul Hughes 2011

Stay! January 17, 2011

Uninvited, in you rushed

and crashed upon my soul.

Crushing joy

you cling like clay

as all I love lies deep, decays

and all I want is dust.

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Trouble another!

My love would then live.

But stay, now you’re here.

My heart would beat weakly

without you.

Don’t leave! If I grieve

she is still with me yet.

I clasp your cold comfort

for fear I’ll forget.

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Uninvited, in you rushed

and crashed upon my soul.

Stab me, grief! Make me feel!

Smother me with lifeless love.

Your dead weight suffocates,

making me whole.

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Paul Hughes 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jake the Cake (II) January 7, 2011

 

 

She thought it looked a little odd, the table in her ward:

laid with napkins, silver-spoons and bowls.

The waiter standing by her bed seemed out of place and bored,

complaining that “the custard’s going cold!”

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A midwife came, she shook her head, “Your son is none too well.

We’ll bring him to you now, but be prepared.

He doesn’t look as you’d expect, but what a lovely smell!

All cinnamon and cream, so don’t be scared!”

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But when she saw him, how she screamed, “My Jake, my darling Son!

What went wrong? There must be some mistake!

His legs are made of gingerbread, his chest’s a currant bun

and worst of all, his head’s a piece of cake!”

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“Having children made of cake can be extremely nice!”

The midwife tried to offer her a spoon.

“It’s good to share them with your friends, so could I have a slice?

I think the coffee trolley’s coming soon!”

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“It’s caused by eating too much cake in French patisseries.”

Silver tears streaked down the mother’s cheek.

“And such excessive intake gave Jake Gateau-Head disease.

I’m sorry, but I doubt he’ll last a week.”

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

His almonds blanched, his raisins all turned pale.

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

He’s past his use-by-date and going stale!”

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But cream transfusions couldn’t stop Jake’s journey into night.

His mother said “I’m simply lost for words!

It seems a waste to bury him,” so later on that night

she threw him in the garden for the birds.

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Paul Hughes 2011

The Beggar Man / Redemption Found December 26, 2010

 

You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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On Christmas Eve I rode to church,

the snow lay crisp and thick.

A single star shone silver in the sky.

I spied a ragged beggar man out walking with a stick.

He stopped and turned and looked me in the eye.

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“Have mercy on a beggar, Lord.”

His voice was weak and thin.

“For I am poor and have no place to go.

Please spare a penny that I might find shelter in an inn

or else I fear I’ll perish in the snow!”

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You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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“You dare address me, vagabond?

You beg for money, too?”

I thrashed him with my strap and knocked him down.

“Well, I must be at Midnight Mass, I have no time for you.”

I left him and I rode on into town.

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But as I rode I heard him cry

“May Heaven curse your soul,

preventing you from ever reaching home!

God grant I live to see you with an empty begging bowl,

until, like me, you’re simply skin and bone!”

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You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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The Holy wafer tasted foul

and stuck fast in my throat.

Our Saviour, from his cross, looked down in scorn.

The priest spoke of the blessed sheep and how the wicked goats

would come to rue the day they had been born.

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I left the sight of Christ, the Lord,

and started off alone,

afflicted with a mounting sense of dread.

I rode on for an hour but I came no nearer home.

I found myself back at the church instead!

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You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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I tried to take a different road,

beginning now to tire.

I longed for sleep, to rest upon my bed.

Again, I saw the cross reflecting moonlight, on the spire

and heard the beggar’s curse ring in my head.

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I slept beneath the stars that night

and tried to leave next day.

But once again the church loomed into view.

Each day, each month, each journey always finished in that way,

until, at last, the seventh year was through.

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You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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By now my feet were bare and sore,

my body skin and bone.

My eyes, once bright, now sulked from sunken holes.

Deathly weak but free, at last, I hobbled my way home,

still carrying an empty begging bowl.

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I thanked the stars to see my door

but wondered at the crowd

which stood and cheered “a toast to master’s health!”

And then I saw the beggar man, now beaming, full and proud,

transformed into a Lord, a man of wealth.

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You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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“What happens here,” I asked a man,

“upon this Christmas Day?”

He looked at me with loathing and with scorn.

“You have no business here, old man. Begone, away, I say!

for in this house a noble son is born!”

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“But I am Lord within this house

and she’s my wife!” I cried.

My lady glared at me with flashing eyes.

“He disappeared, some years ago, my poor first husband died

and now you mock his memory with lies!”

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You strike me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

You’ll never see your Lady’s eyes

for seven winters more.

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The beggar man, now noble lord,

came gently to the door

and dropped ten golden coins into my bowl.

“The angels will watch over you, for Jesus loves the poor.

I’ll pray our Holy Lord preserves your soul!”

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My golden hoard bought bed and board

for many beggar men.

I hoped this act would rid me of my shame.

That night, in church, I prayed to God to take me, there and then

and by and by I heard him call my name.

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He struck me down but still I rise,

for Jesus loves the poor.

I’ll go to him in paradise

this night, forevermore.

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Paul Hughes 2010

The Three Little Pigs At Christmas. December 12, 2010

 

A chase began. They ran, they ran!

The three pigs cried and squealed.

The wolf pursued his panicking food

through meadow, stream and field.

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At last they reached their home, sweet home!

They slammed and locked the door.

“It’s Christmas Eve, we beg you to leave

and bother us no more!”

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The wolf he huffed, he puffed and puffed!

“I’ll blow your door right in!

I’ll catch you, take you, roast and bake you

Let the feast begin!”

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He filled his lungs, he blew and blew!

The door held firm and fast.

He tried it again, once more and then

the wolf gave up, at last.

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Then came steps on the roof. “The roof!

The chimney!” yelled the pigs.

“Pile up the grate, before it’s too late,

with paper, petrol and twigs!”

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A form fell in the flames, such flames!

The three pigs clapped and cheered.

Then they saw, through the glass in the door,

a reindeer’s face appear.

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“It’s Santa Claus!” they screamed. They screamed!

And how their faces fell.

” He’s roasted, dead! As black as burned bread!

Our gifts! They’re toast as well!”

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Paul Hughes 2010

They Tremble in their Beds December 7, 2010

Dandelions cower, tamed,

afraid of seeming silly;

purring softly, too ashamed

to roar before the lily.

Daisies with their simple charms

blush pink beneath the rose;

shrinking, blinking, in alarm

at all the thorns she grows.

Flowers of the hedgerow fear

the cultivated garden.

As they scent its blossom near

their hearts begin to harden.

Their dread is sharpened by their hate

of being seen as weeds,

the garden flowers sense its weight

within their infant seeds.

They blaze their precious pampered pride

 for all the world all to see

whilst wishing hotly, deep inside,

that they could, too, be free.

And so they tremble in their beds

as wilderness creeps near,

the bindweed and the columbine

united in their fear.

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Paul Hughes 2010

Fowl Language November 23, 2010

 

 

Will you help me, 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 the words which ducks use every day?

So let’s begin this minute, would you tell me how you say:

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“It’s kind of you to feed me, dear. I like this whole-grain bread,

but sometimes I would love to eat some coco-pops instead.”

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“QUACK”

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“The river-water chills my legs. I scrape my toes on rocks.

Oh, how I wish I had a pair of knee-high woolly socks!”

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“QUACK”

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“It’s Spring again and I must build my brood a cosy nest,

a place where they can snuggle – up and take a well-earned rest.”

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“QUACK”

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Thanks for helping, Mother Duck, you’re such a clever bird!

How many creatures say so much by using just one word?

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Paul Hughes 2010

An Eternal Spring November 21, 2010

 

“Heaven’s like eternal Spring,” said Uncle John.

The others nodded gravely,

painting pallid smiles on unwilling canvasses.

“You have your friends around you

and everyone you’ve loved.

She’ll be with Grandad now,

as happy as she ever was in life.”

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I wondered why, if this was true,

there was an air of tearful gloom

within the room and why they spoke

as if a bunch of fading blooms

which sensed the nearing autumn frosts,

which felt their Summers ending.

It was a conspiracy of comfort.

They formed in trembling, adult, ranks

to shield me from their fear,

levelling their useless spears at Death.

I couldn’t, didn’t dare to smash

the phalanx of their caring words.

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So I went, alone, up to my room

to cry for the woman we’d buried

that cold December’s morning,

and wove for her a warming shroud

of memories to keep her safe.

Wherever she was just then,

whatever the truth might be,

I’d always keep her love as fresh

as unfurling new blossom.

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Paul Hughes 2010

Amelia the Pirate November 19, 2010

I

catch

the scent,

of briny breath,

I gaze upon the blue;

as once did Captain Black-

beard with his famous pirate

crew. One day I’ll sail the ocean’s

depths and travel far abroad. The world

will dread “Amelia, the fearless Pirate Lord!”

I’ll

rob

the Spanish galleons and seize their chests of gold. I’ll make their

captains walk the plank, just like in days of old. A pirate’s life’s

the life for me, there’s only one small catch: I think I’ll have

to lose an eye and wear a pirate’s patch! I’d also need a

wooden leg, gold teeth, an iron hook! Perhaps I’ll stay

at home instead and read a pirate book!

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Paul Hughes 2010

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www.pictures-vector.com/. ../000037835631

 

Haunted! November 16, 2010

They make me groan and scream with fright.

I rattle my chains in fear.

This place is haunted every night.

The monsters, they draw near.

They make me turn as white as a sheet

but listen, here’s the twist:

my mummy ghost will just repeat

that “people don’t exist!”

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Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture: http://www.clipartheaven.com/

 

Paradise Lost, Paradise Found. November 15, 2010

 

Come and sit close for I think there’s a ghost

in my head, put your cheek next to mine.

Are my ears ringing or can you hear singing

instead, like a faint little whine?

You hear it? I’m glad, though the tune’s very sad.

Let’s try to hear all of the words!

Her voice is so weak that it’s barely a squeak,

as if from the tiniest bird.

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“Once there were swarms of us, millions, more

of us, Now I’m alone, I’m the last.

Our home was a paradise, wonderful, very nice.

How things can change, death comes fast!

We’d spend every day in the blond-grass and sway

to the beat, to the tune of a drum.

It comes from the ground and relentlessly pounds,

with a ‘boom’ and a ‘bam’ and a ‘bom!’

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My husband and brood feasted freely on food

which lay underneath the white earth.

We lived, loved and fed but today they lie dead.

Who poisoned the land of my birth?

I just can’t believe it! My world, I must leave it.

I’ll pack up my things and leave home.

It’s hard for a louse to up-sticks and move house!

Still harder to do it alone.”

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Is that really it, just a song from a nit?

I thought I was going insane.

Thank goodness they’re dead and she’s leaving my head!

I won’t hear her singing again.

So, when I get home I can toss out my comb

and throw out my head-louse shampoo!

But why are you scratching? Oh dear, nits are catching.

She’s left me and moved in with YOU!

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Paul Hughes 2010

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picture: http://adoubtersramblings.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why do fish swim in schools? November 13, 2010

 

Our Harry is a halibut,

as curious as can be.

He searched for all the answers to

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 wondered why the seahorse neighs

but never wins a race,

if tiger-sharks and catfish miaow

and how to talk to plaice.

He asked so very many things

King Neptune made a rule,

that every little halibut

would have to go to school!

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Paul Hughes

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photo: http://pages.cs.wisc.edu/~wenger/images/bonaire2k/

 

 

 

 

 

My Scary, Hairy, Friend November 10, 2010

I made a brand new friend today.

He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t play.

I think he’ll simply run away if I don’t hold him tight.

He’s tiny but he’s kinda tough

and just a sight of him’s enough

to run off bully boy Jack Clough, he gave him quite a fright!

He keeps me from a brutal beating,

surfs the web when he’s not eating,

sleeps in silk, keeps flies retreating, just like bully Jack did.

I think it’s time to set him free.

I hope he’ll choose to stay with me.

He’s scary, but a friend to me: my bodyguard arachnid!

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Paul Hughes 2010

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Photo: http://www.ziggityzoom.com/print.php?activity=343

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To! November 8, 2010

 

Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep

and so she can’t come round for tea.

A dwarf told me, weeping, that Snow White was sleeping.

“A poisonous apple, you see!?”

.

Gretel, sweet petal, ate half of a wall.

It made her so terribly sick.

Collapsing, she balled “I don’t feel well at all!

I thought they were gingerbread bricks!”

.

I think, in the end, that Rapunzel’s no friend.

It’s obvious she doesn’t care.

It’s simply no use, she just gave the excuse

that she’s washing and drying her hair.

.

Poor Cinderella ran off with her fella,

I haven’t heard word of her since.

That girl Sleeping Beauty has married some cutie,

I hear he’s a Duke, or a Prince.

.

There’s no point in lying or crying, denying

my party’s a wash out, it’s wrecked.

But if you depend on a fairytale friend

I guess it’s just what you’d expect.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Photo: http://www.thefairyshop.co.nz/data/media/images/Party%20Images/Sophi%20Sue.jpg

My Imaginary Friend November 6, 2010

 

Flabby cabbage, sulking greyly

in the gravy, left uneaten.

Mother, beaten, said that Tom

had been and gone and eaten his.

.

Did you really, Tom?

.

Even though she never sees him

still she’ll please him, feed and clean him,

talking, smiling, of a boy who’s

always here but never there.

.

You’re a good boy, Tom!

.

When things happen, Tom’s a “good” boy,

“never could” boy, “isn’t there!”

Shouldn’t blame him, “shame on” me!

Does she believe in Tom or not?

.

Say you did it, Tom!

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Paul Hughes 2010

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photo: http://www.thenewmanofaction.com/wp-content/imaginary_friend.jpg

 

Baron Arthur Palmerston November 4, 2010

 

Baron Arthur Palmerston of Sedgely-Under-Lyme

used his wealth to bribe his way through school.

It didn’t matter what he did, however grave the crime

he thought he could afford to break the rules.

A pin on Mr Tuggey’s chair, blue dye in Mrs Lambert’s hair,

he bought the Head a leather chair and so escaped detention.

He did no work in History, in Music, Art or Geography.

He knew the Head would set him free, so just paid no attention.

We grew to be the best of friends, quite sure our luck would never end,

his money always made amends. The Head grew rich and fat.

We bought him houses, limousines, good caviar and tangerines,

the nicest clothes he’d ever seen, gold collars for his cat.

When trouble came we’d simply flash enormous quantities of cash.

The Head would take it all and dash to save us from the staff.

Our teachers tried to make us pay but we’d just grin at them and say

“get out, get lost, just go away, you fools! You make us laugh.”

But all too soon we found we’d spent poor Baron Arthur’s final cent.

He put his mansion up for rent, his bank account was cleared.

The Head had taken all he had, our teachers seemed unkindly glad.

They wrote detention slips like mad, they gave us twenty years!

Baron Arthur found his health was worsened by his loss of wealth.

He only ever blamed himself, “my actions made me sick!

If only I had taken time to learn to add and multiply.

Do listen to your teachers, try, and learn arithmetic!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

Why do I have to listen to this? November 3, 2010

Tim won’t speak to Tom

and Tom won’t talk to Tim.

Dom won’t speak to either

and he’s fallen out with Kim.

.

Jim and John just don’t get on

and Jen and Jan just fight.

Jane insists that Jen is wrong

but Jean says Jen is right.

.

Bill and Ken call Jill and Ben

the most revolting names,

but tell me, time and time again,

they’re not the ones to blame.

.

“I wish you’d all grow up a bit!”

I tell them, “can’t you see?

I’ve really had enough of it!

So, please fall out with ME!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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illustration: http://newsmomsneed.marchofdimes.com/?tag=children-fighting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just a friend? November 3, 2010

 

Girls are weird          and even though

they’re sometimes   quite attractive, being

friends with them just isn’t right. One I know,

she talks so much, her mouth is hyperactive, never

stopping, morning, noon or night. She tries to hold

my hand when we meet up for lunch and break,

calls me cute and likes my stupid sister. Now

and then I ask myself how much my pride

can take. But when she isn’t there I

find I miss her. I know that she’s

a girl and I’m a boy, but in the

end, I think I really like

her, but, I swear, as

just a friend!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Illustration: http://www.cdkenterprises.com/coloring/Valentines/GirlBoy3.gif

The Dance of the Dead October 30, 2010

 

Once a year they come to search

for those they lost, they grimly lurch

through graveyard, chapel, tomb and church.

Here come the missing people!

Hear them call, they’ve come to find

the loved ones they had left behind.

Their deathly, rasping, voices wind

round tower, yew and steeple.

Soldiers killed in distant wars

and sailors drowned on foreign shores,

long lost children crave once more

the comfort of their mothers.

Look, within their graves they wake!

Watch the tombstones shift and break!

Dead folk rise and strive to take

the hands of parted lovers.

Then, to some unearthly tune,

they dance beneath an eerie moon.

Bones embracing ‘til, too soon,

the birds announce the dawn.

Silently they weep and turn

to earthy graves or ocean’s urn,

once more to sleep alone and yearn

for hallowe’en, to mourn.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

Prince seeks Princess for Love and Marriage October 28, 2010

 

Will she be wearing glass slippers?

Perhaps we shall meet at a ball.

Will her gown shimmer and glitter,

my princess, the fairest of all?

Will she need kisses to wake her

from spells which have sent her to sleep?

Maybe a dragon will take her.

I’ll come for you, Princess. Don’t weep!

Will she be like Cinderella,

arriving by pumpkin express,

waiting for some handsome fella

to rescue her from her distress?

Maybe she’ll live in a tower,

her hair flowing down to the ground.

I’d do everything in my power

to bring her back home, safe and sound.

And, oh, what a life we shall share

a lifetime of smiles and laughter,

with never a tear or a care

together, forever thereafter.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Illustration: http://citizen19.blogspot.com/2009/01/fairy-talemore-like-fairies-fail.html

A Fairytale Romance October 28, 2010

 

Little Bo Peep had lost her sheep

and so couldn’t meet me for dinner.

I dated Snow White, but try as I might,

nothing I did worked to win her.

Gretel, sweet petal, she munched on my house,

it made her so terribly sick.

I think she’d have made quite a wonderful spouse.

She choked on a fragment of brick!

Then Cinderella ran off with some fella,

I haven’t heard word of her since.

The ugliest sister said if I would kiss her,

she’d give me the name of the Prince.

I tried to hook up with Rapunzel

It’s obvious she didn’t care.

It’s simply no use, she just made the excuse,

every night, she was washing her hair.

I thought I was doomed to be lonely,

condemned to be always alone;

my love life a tale of “if onlys”

it chilled me right down to the bone.

But Goldilocks came to my rescue.

I’ll ask her to wed me, tonight.

She’ll not break my heart like the rest do.

She’s beautiful, perfect, “just right!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Illustration: http://www.crystalinks.com/fairytales.jpg

 

 

Extinction’s Waiting Room October 27, 2010

 

Do you think they grumble, groaning,

stony bodies, moaning, lonely,

dreaming of jurassic times?

Do they hear the steps of creatures

living free beneath the sun,

far above their rocky tomb?

Do they wonder at the nature of the

world that saw them die, as they

sleep, or sadly weep for fading

pictures of the past?

Fossil lizards, dinosaurs,

rest gently in your graves!

Save your tears, you’ll see it all.

You’ll meet them all, I swear.

We sent the dodo, so you know

a little of our world.

Soon we’ll send the tigers,

pandas, elephants and whales.

The animals are gathering,

you’ll not be short of friends.

Half the planet’s queuing in

extinction’s crowded waiting room…

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Paul Hughes 2010

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photo: http://www.softsailor.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/ida-47-million-year-old-fossil-01.jpg

The Ugly Planet October 26, 2010

 

Zarg slithered slowly on slime, like a slug,

and seemed quite disgusted to meet me.

He looked like a maggot and buzzed like a bug,

his tentacles waving to greet me.

“I’ve travelled the earth for a year and a day”

said Zarg, wiping drool from his face.

“I’ve made up my mind that I simply can’t stay.

I think it’s a terrible place!

Butterflies dance with their pastel-paint wings.

Rainbows curve gems through the sky.

I thought I’d enjoy how the nightingale sings,

the busy way hummingbirds fly.”

A tear fell from each of his twenty four ears.

“This planet is starting to bug me.

You might think it’s great, but to me it appears

so perfectly, horribly ugly.”

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Paul Hughes 2010

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illustration: http://fotolog.miarroba.es/inesperados/alien-simpsons-codos-125/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Space Cat October 24, 2010

 

As I was falling fast asleep, one night upon the farm

a bright pink cat jumped on my bed and said “I mean no harm.

My name is Space Cat, there’s my ship, we’re going for a ride.

Your animals can come along. Please hurry, step inside.”

.

He started up the engines and turned his headlights on.

The animals all climbed aboard and WHOOSH the ship was gone.

The pigs soon moaned, “we’re hungry! We need to eat and soon.”

And so we stopped for breakfast, a picnic on the moon.

.

The Moon Mice served as waiters; “Be seated, if you please!

Enjoy your food. Eat all you like! It’s bread and lunar cheese.”

And then we blasted off again, to see the milky way.

We danced on Mars and Jupiter, it was a lovely day.

.

Space Cat flew me back to earth, with all my farmyard crew.

He promised that he’d keep in touch, as good friends always do.

And every single night time, I snuggle into bed,

and wonder if a bright pink cat is flying overhead.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Illustration: http://starbrightillustrations.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/space_cat.png

Why the Rabbit Runs and Hides October 22, 2010



 

“Tortoise,” bragged Rabbit,

“You know I’ve a habit

of running much faster than you?!

Perhaps it’s because

of the shell you inhabit.

I think it’s too heavy, I do!”

 

The tortoise replied

“Yes, it can’t be denied

that my shell is a burden, it’s true.

And yet you will find

that you’ll choke on your pride.

I’ll make it home long before you.”

 

“You think you can race me?

You’ll never out-pace me,”

said Rabbit, “no way will you win!

But try if you’d like to,

if you dare to face me.

I’m ready, so let us begin!”

 

He started to run

but he’d barely begun

when tortoise called out “Rabbit loses!

I live in my shell

so you see, I have won.

I’m slow but my brain has its uses!”

 

Rabbit spat feathers

and didn’t know whether

to cry or to run from his shame.

And still, to this day,

he will hide in the heather

if somebody calls out his name.

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Paul Hughes 2010

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http://www.flickr.com/photos/simpleartsplanet/4150077332/

 

 

With friends like these… October 18, 2010

 

I tried to play with bumble bees,

they formed a swarm to sting me.

Rhinoceri just made me cry

because they’d never ring me.

I hugged and kissed a porcupine

but found him far too spiky.

The manta-ray just swam away

and said he didn’t like me.

I used to feel so very small,

but now I’ve found a friend.

His name is Colin Cannibal

and aaaarrrrrgggghhhhhhh!!!

.

The End.

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Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture: http://www.merrilyfanciful.com/comics/2008-04-18-porcupine.png

The Mermaid October 17, 2010

 

The sea whispered softly and sweetly

and kissed, oh so gently, the beach.

A mermaid sat waiting to meet me

on a rock in the waves, out of reach.

.

She said “come on into the water!”

I asked “won’t you play on the sand?”

My mermaid, King Neptune’s sweet daughter,

refused to step onto the land.

.

One day I will prove my devotion

and swim out to be with my friend.

We’ll see all the sights of the ocean,

together, forever,

.

The End.

.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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A KS1 version…?

Together in Tears October 12, 2010

The sea whispered softly and sweetly

and kissed, oh so gently, the sand.

My sweetheart sat waiting to meet me

where ocean encounters the land.

.

She asked me to go to the water,

I begged her to give up the sea.

My mermaid, the ocean’s sweet daughter,

wept hotly and parted from me.

.

I often look out at the ocean

and feel that she’s watching me too;

our hearts both ablaze with emotion

as our tears join as one in the blue.

.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

The Hanging and the Saint October 3, 2010

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

The crowd turned out in Swansea for the rebel’s execution.

November’s sun shone wanly through the clouds.

William looked to heaven as he prayed for absolution;

his face betrayed no fear, he stood unbowed.

From the castle tower watched de Briouze, Lord of Gower,

keen to see Cragh draw his final breath.

For Welshmen must be mastered, forced to bow to English power,

accept their fate or else be put to death.

.

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

“He hanged,” said John Of Baggenham, a servant to the lord,

“from cock-crow ‘til the sun sat fat and high.

I watched him step his airy dance until he danced no more.

I’m certain of it, William Cragh did die!

At noon the strangest thing occurred, the gallows crashed and fell.

My lord commanded ‘hang him up again!’

A shoddy piece of carpentry, or God’s will, who could tell?

In any case, the gesture was in vain.”

.

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

“I saw him too,” claimed William, the baron’s youngest son.

“His face was black and bloody, dead as stone.

His soul had left him, there’s no doubt, the hangman’s work was done.

“I left my mother with him and went home.”

“The dead man’s kin had come to me to beg my intercession,”

said Lady Mary, wife of de Briouze.

I asked my husband ‘spare his life, pray grant me this concession.’

My pleas fell on deaf ears, they were refused.”

.

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

“I took him to a merchant’s house and laid him on a bed.

I bent a silver penny as a gift,

then prayed to Thomas Cantilupe to raise him from the dead

and waited for the cloak of death to lift.

For Bishop Thomas Cantilupe, though dead for many moons,

could resurrect a body after death.

I didn’t have too long to wait, the rebel stirred quite soon.

I watched him tremble, choke then take a breath.”

.

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

The three Papal Commissioners considered what they’d heard.

Was Cantilupe a saint or just a man?

They rose to leave but then a voice rang out “hear me a word!

I’d like to tell my story, if I can.

My name is William Cragh and I’m the subject of this tale.

They hanged me by my neck until I died.

I’ve come to pay my debt to Cantilupe, and I’ll not fail

to see this godly man beatified.”

.

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

“I cannot call to mind much of my time upon the rope.

I only know that as my world turned black

a vision of a bishop dressed in white gave me the hope

that I was not yet done, that I’d be back.

And here I stand. You see the scar the rope burned on my neck?

It shows I hanged, you see that I still breathe.

I’m living proof of Cantilupe’s miraculous effect.

View his work, cast off your doubt, believe!”

.

William Cragh, William Cragh

swung from the gallows but then came back.

William, foe of the Norman lord,

hanged but had his life restored.

.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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.

Cantilupe was beatified (made a saint) in 1320.

 

Praise the Lord! But Spinach?! September 24, 2010

Apples and pizza and cherries and cheese,

our Lord, you’re a generous giver!

But what’s with the broccoli, spinach and peas

asparagus, cabbage and liver?

.

We’re honestly grateful, we know you mean well.

We hope you won’t think it a sin

and send us to Satan to suffer in Hell,

for chucking this muck in the bin!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

She Came From The Wrong Side Of The Track… September 19, 2010

You say you retired. But, no, you were fired!

I warned you, I told you to stop, see?

For you’re in the habit of kissing the rabbit.

You nincompoop, falling for Flopsy!

You’re washed up and finished, a dog in disgrace.

You’re meant to chase rabbits, not nuzzle her face!

No wonder you always came last in the race!

You dunderhead, falling for Flopsy!

.

Perhaps if you begged them they’d let you go back.

You simpleton, falling for Flopsy!

She came from, you know, the wrong side of the track,

all snuffly, cutsie and hopsy.

You can’t love the rabbit, she’s no good for you.

There really was only one thing I could do!

So tell me now, did you enjoy your meat stew?

You idiot, falling for Flopsy!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

 

Why The Long Face? September 15, 2010

It’s driving me crackers,

the thought of the knackers,

I’ll end up as Pedigree Chum!

So, “Why the long face?”

Well, I lose every race.

It’s hardly surprising I’m glum.

Just look at my jockey,

short-sighted and stocky,

too lumpy a load for a horse!

I lurch from the gate

with his back-breaking weight

to find he can’t follow the course.

The last time he rode me

he took the main road and we

ended up on the M4.

We didn’t get far,

I was hit by a car.

My body can’t take any more!

I hear that they’re planning

to send me for canning.

I could have been famous, a winner.

But now they’ll just bin me,

they’ll dice me and tin me,

and serve me to Spot for his dinner…

.

Paul Hughes

Why the Baboon’s Bum is Red September 2, 2010

“Would you like to admire my bottom?

Although I know everyone’s got ‘em,

mine is so white,

no, you’ll not see the like

on an ostrich, a lion, or possum!”

.

“I think,” said the zebra, “we’ve seen it!

And may I suggest that you clean it?

It’s grubby and wide!

See my dazzling hide?

It has its own tickbird to preen it!”

.

They argued through luncheon and dinner,

with neither emerging as winner.

Soon it was night,

with a fire for light,

Baboon shouted “stop, or I’ll skin yer!”

.

But Zebra refused to be quiet

“You’re ugly, you ape! Don’t deny it!”

They started to fight.

With a scratch and a bite,

they kicked up a terrible riot.

.

They tumbled and fought in a craze.

The campfire crackled and blazed.

They fell in the flames,

such a terrible shame,

and neither recovered for days.

.

That’s why, so the San tribe has said,

the Zebra’s not white. No, instead,

he’s blackened in stripes

of a permanent type

and baboon’s big bottom is red.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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The San Tribe is the modern name for the people who were once called “Bushmen.” Their stories about animals are fantastic.

The hunt for the Wallagaroo! August 25, 2010

“The wonderful Wallagaroo,” said Bear,

“the colourful Wallagaroo!

His head is bright yellow, his legs are sky blue.

I’ll hunt him and catch him, that’s what I shall do,

I’ll drag the beast out of his lair,

he said.

I’ll drag the beast out of his lair!”

.

“The mythical Wallagaroo?” Cow jeered,

“Banana-shaped Wallagaroo?

As fake as the yeti and unicorns too,

only believed in by dimwits like YOU!

Find him and bring him back here!”

she laughed.

“Find him and bring him back here!”

.

“Dear magical Wallagaroo,” called Bear,

“Oh velvety Wallagaroo?”

He hunted him high and he hunted him low,

he hunted through deserts, he tracked him through snow.

The Wallagaroo wasn’t there!

Nor there.

The Wallagaroo wasn’t there!

.

“Incredible Wallagaroo!” sighed Bear,

“my flappy-eared Wallagaroo!

I’ve looked in the park and in Debenhams too,

He’s not in the café, he’s not in the zoo.”

He set off for home in despair.

Poor Bear!

He set off for home in despair.

.

“Peculiar Wallagaroo?” gasped Bear.

“Oh waggy – tailed Wallagaroo?”

He’d nearly reached home when he saw, on the coast,

the Wallagaroo eating sardines on toast

and brushing his beautiful hair.

He was

sat brushing his beautiful hair!

.

“So speedy my Wallagaroo,” Bear cried

“my cheetah-like Wallagaroo!”

He chased him but Wallagaroo was too quick

he ran and he ran but he made himself sick.

“I’ll catch you with Cow by my side,”

he swore.

“I’ll catch you with Cow by my side!”

.

A mischievious Wallagaroo, and how!

Intelligent Wallagaroo!

He raced past the bear and hung fish from a tree

the Bear ate them up just as quick as can be

and ran home to wake up the Cow.

He did,

he ran home to wake up the Cow!

.

“The marvellous Wallagaroo!” Bear said

“Please help catch the Wallagaroo!

He’s out where the fish grow on conifer trees!

I beg you, please help!” He fell down on his knees!

“You’re mad! Get away from my bed!”

Cow said

“You’re mad, get away from my bed!”

.

“Troublesome Wallagaroo” wept Bear

“That maddening Wallagaroo!”

“I’ll hunt him through China, Tibet and through Spain”

but nobody listened, they thought him insane.

“I tell you, he’s out there, I swear”

said Bear

“The Wallagaroo, he is there!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture: www.pencilsandpaper.com

My Body is a “Somebody!” August 21, 2010

My ears just rang, to tell me

I’m the hero of the games!

I’ve won a dozen medals?

One of Britain’s greatest names?

I couldn’t understand it,

“But I’ve spent the day in bed?!”

“Not all of you!” my ears replied,

and this is what they said:

“Your mind was racing as you slept,

and meanwhile, in the pool,

your stomach did the butterfly.

Your skin, it did the crawl!

Thank goodness that you’ve caught a cold,

your nose was very runny.

It ran so well it won the gold

and lots and lots of money!

the crowd went mad! Oh, what a sight,

the cheers, the flags unfurling!

Your heart, it leapt and raced all night.

Your toes were champs at curling!

We only failed at volleyball.

The team tried hard to win it,

but didn’t do too well at all,

your heart just wasn’t in it!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

Police Dog On The Run! August 20, 2010

The dog’s at large, Sir,

don’t you fret.

I’ll track him down tomorrow.

Honest, Sarge, I’ll catch him yet!

I’ve got a lead to follow!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

Tough Love August 18, 2010

I tremble softly at your touch

and can hide nothing.

All that I am I give to you

in a close, unspoken, marriage.

But you take me for granted.

You don’t understand me.

You barely spare me a thought,

except when you need me.

Yes, you want me now,

you thirst for me.

You’re nothing without me.

I am both servant and master.

.

I have travelled so far to be with you.

Take me as I am

and forget my troubled past.

I remember still,

how rock gave way

and cities fell

before my power.

Gently, I caressed

and raging I destroyed.

Revered, I was feared,

needed but hated by all.

.

But for now, I am at peace.

I’m not as I used to be.

Enjoy me! Tamed, I am yours.

Let me turn another page

in my timeless, tempestuous journey.

We will travel together.

Drink!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

The Magic Potion August 14, 2010

To make this magic potion we need Alligator skin,

a Bumble bee, a black Cat’s miaow, some Dog food from a tin.

Please fetch an Egg, a Flea’s left leg, the horn from a Gnu,

and don’t forget the Hippo’s tongue, a dash of pepper too!

Dice an Inchworm, mix it with a smelly Jellied eel!

Grate a whole Koala bear and add some Lemon peel!

Then we’ll need a Micro-frog, a Nanny-goat, an Owl.

Fry them with a pixie’s ear, a Platypus’ scowl.

Thinly slice a Quagga’s stripe and boil a black-Rat’s squeak.

Stir it all together with a Swan’s bright orange beak!

Next we add the Tiger’s tooth with wing of Vampire bat,

a Wombat hair, an X-ray fish, a Yard ant’s bowler hat.

Last we pour in Zebra juice. That’s it, the potion’s done.

I think I’ll have a taste right now, the witching hour’s begun!

But wait, there’s something missing! Something quite important too!

Ah yes, that’s it! Oh, silly me, the missing thing is U!

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Paul Hughes 2010

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Photo from: www.fundraw.com

Self-doubt in a Sprout, Ennui in a Pea… August 13, 2010

“They always reject me, they simply expect me

to sit on the edge of the plate!

I’m tasty, believe me, but children just leave me

to wallow in gravy, nobody can save me.

How cold and unwelcome a fate!”

.

“My vegetable friends, it must come to an end.

I shall jump from this cliff to my doom.

I’m tired of crying and sighing, by dying

I’ll end the rejection, my self-introspection

and put a full stop to my gloom!”

.

“There’s simply no doubt,” said the Pea to the Sprout,

“we’re not a great hit with the kids.

Tomato and Spinach, let’s join him, we’re finished!

We’ll link hands and leap to the watery deep

and dance our last dance with the squid!”

.

I heard all this talk as I went for my walk

and couldn’t believe what I’d heard.

I sat down beside them and gently, to chide them,

I said “it would seem that such poor self-esteem

is truly, quite simply, absurd!”

.

“It would be such a waste of your wonderful taste

to throw yourselves into the sea.

There’s much more to life than a fork and a knife.

It’s foolish to wish for success in a dish.

I beg of you, listen to me!”

.

I told them a tale of the trumpet-nosed whale,

the hop of the Wallagaroo,

the race of the ant with the rhinocerphant,

the black and white trunk of the elephaskunk

and other beasts found in the zoo.

.

They listened, entranced, as I spoke of my dance

with crocodiles, under the moon.

I told them I’d sat and played chess with a cat,

who made quite a scene when I captured his queen

and sang a sad song, out of tune.

.

In time Pea concluded “we’ve been so deluded!

Your stories are beautifully told!

There’s so much to see, let us go! Follow me!”

But hungry, I took them. I diced them and cooked them.

and ate them, before they went cold.

.

Paul Hughes, 2010

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Picture from: http://moveurbody.com/top-10-fitness-halloween-costumes/

It came to the Crunch at the Cannibal’s Lunch! August 13, 2010

 

Oh mother, you know that I love you.

I generally do what you say,

but this time I really can’t bear to.

I can’t and I shan’t, so, no way!

For Tom Green has always been friendly,

and Sal Green is awfully kind.

The thought of it simply offends me.

I’ve freed them, I hope you don’t mind!

.

His mother’s face curdled with fury.

She screamed in a terrible rage.

Her yells could be heard in Missouri.

She stuffed his friends back in their cage.

Her husband came running “My darling!

Please tell me what all this noise means!”

She answered, still growling and snarling.

“That naughty boy won’t eat his Greens!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

A Boxer Boxed! August 10, 2010

Basher Bill, the boxing champ, retired undefeated.

But there’s one fight he didn’t win, for death would not be cheated.

The very last to box him was his local undertaker.

Laid low, at last, our Basher Bill went up to meet his maker.

And for his epitaph they wrote: “No need to count to ten!

I’ve had my chips, I’m down and out, I won’t get up again!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

Sports Day: I’d better run! August 8, 2010

I don’t know why they’re crying,

it’s not as if they’re dying!

So what if I’ve been knotting all their laces?

No, Jonathon’s not dead!

I only whacked his head,

so he’d be too concussed to win the races.

Ha! Timothy’s not really ill,

he only took one sleeping pill!

I read the packet, that’s the right amount.

And yes, I hid their running shoes

It doesn’t matter if they lose!

You told me taking part is all that counts!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

The Invitation August 7, 2010

My friend, see the moon! Yes, the bells will chime soon,

the hour of midnight draws near.

The night lies before us, come dance to the chorus

and cast off your primitive fear.

The thought of the dead fills the living with dread,

but you are, I feel, open minded.

I pity the fools who would shrink from a ghoul.

Their hunger for life leaves them blinded.

.

Come to the dance, won’t you give it a chance?

There’s so much to learn from the night.

We’ll revel in gloom with the folk from the tombs

and bathe in the moon’s frosty light.

We’ll flit with the bats and converse with black cats,

we’ll chant with the spirits of Hades.

And if you behave you can dig your own grave,

or dance with Count Dracula’s ladies.

.

I see it excites you, so come! I invite you!

Let’s fly to the cemetery ball.

It’s simply depraved how I love a fresh grave,

the welcoming earth of its walls.

You think there’s a catch? OK, open the latch.

You really should let me come in.

Oh no, it won’t sting. No, you won’t feel a thing

as my fangs pierce your beautiful skin…

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Paul Hughes 2010

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Photo courtesy of: http://www.shootsandvines.com/?m=20090612

“Let’s Pick Teams!” August 5, 2010

I’m going to be last.

Again.

.

My wounded soul

writhes like some bisected worm.

Blinking, shrinking in the light,

burned, it  seethes and wants to flee

the feeble weakling shell that’s me.

Subjected to shame,

dejected, I stand,

rejected, alone

and unwanted.

..

Paul Hughes 2010

Gryllus rubens: field cricket August 4, 2010

Match day came and Gryllus rubens felt too sick to play.

He had a rather nasty case of mumps.

I forced his friend, the grasshopper, to stand in for the day,

and so he stood there, shaking at the stumps.

Although he did his very best, he really couldn’t bat.

The other team was quick to take his wicket.

And if there is a lesson to be learned, it’s surely that

forcing grasshoppers to play just isn’t cricket!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Gryllus rubens – Latin name for a kind of cricket

Our Scientist, Hallowed be thy name! August 2, 2010

Are we happy now?

Now that the last of the fairies is dead?

Now that God and his angels quiver in heaven

and the vicars in black run from new priests in white?

Are you happy now?

No-one cared when they came for the dragons,

the unicorns, pixies and elves.

Nobody fought for the mermaids and goblins,

After all, we wanted to be free!

We would build our own heaven, not God’s,

and the men in white would defeat death on their own.

Why bother to love our neighbours as ourselves?

You couldn’t ring it up on the till!

But now that the men in white come for the meadows,

the ponds and the seas and the rainforests too.

Now that they smother the fields in tarmac

and choke all the skies with their carbon and fumes,

now that they tie us with ropes of their logic

and offer us Nike eternal,

are we happy now?

Are they happy now?

Sometimes, on the breeze, comes the music of fairies

and a faint curl of scent from a long extinct bloom.

Then, if just for a moment, I sense true happiness

and the scowls of the new priests in white.

.

Paul Hughes, 2010

Peter Pitta, Half Dead Bread. July 24, 2010

Peter Pitta belched and burped,

grunted, snorted, screeched and slurped

like something from a stable.

He told the most disgusting jokes

but suddenly began to choke,

collapsing on the table.

I called for help, a doctor came

and said “his manners are to blame!”

I asked him “is he dead?”

The doctor shook his head and sighed,

“Not quite, but though he hasn’t died

he’s certainly ill bread!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

.

.

An example of a poem An example of a poem written to suit what struck me as a funny pun – the ill bread / bred thing…

Acrostic July 24, 2010

Right feet wedged against the blocks,

Eager limbs met focussed brains.

Athletes faced their foes, the clock,

Deafened by the crowd’s acclaim.

Young, we hoped to prove our strength,

.

Smashing records, seeking fame.

Each would go to any length,

Thrusting forth to stake our claim.

.

“GO!” cried Miss. I ran, but soon,

Off it fell. My Egg! Damn spoon!

.

!

.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

.

.

Hmm, more difficult than I thought, this acrostic business…

Kim the Cow and Space Cat July 15, 2010

Once on Daisy Dairy Farm, there lived a cow called Kim.

Kim was her farmer’s favourite and she was fond of him.

She was the greatest milk cow the world had ever seen.

           Her milk was rich and silky, sweet and full of cream.

.

One night Kim was woken, by red and yellow lights.

At first they hovered low, but then shot into the night.

 Her udder was quite empty, Kim was shocked and shaken.

“Oh!” she cried, “What’s going on? My milk! It’s all been taken.”

.

“The Farmer won’t be happy, if milk is being stolen.

I’ll catch that nasty thief, I’ll give him such a scolding!”

So that night she stayed awake and saw, beyond the moon,

coloured lights a twinkling. She mooed “He’ll be here soon.”

.

She didn’t have to wait long, the lights were moving fast.

They landed by the cow-sheds, scorching all the grass.

It was a flying saucer, bright silver, round and flat;

and when the door sprang open, Kim saw a pussy cat!

.

Kim lay still and closed her eyes, “he’ll think I’m fast asleep.”

The thief crept by the piggies, the chickens and the sheep.

He tip-toed past the turkey, the donkey and the foal;

but then he fell into Kim’s’s trap: a deep and dirty hole.

.

Kim looked at the Space Cat and saw his purple eyes.

His fur was pink and curly. Imagine her surprise

when she heard that Space Cat could speak in fluent cow.

He asked her quite politely “would you release me now?”

.

Kim said “No, you stole my milk. You naughty, wicked thief!

You really ought to be ashamed. Your crime’s beyond belief.”

“I had no choice.” cried Space Cat. “My family is cursed.

“Space Dogs dammed the Milky Way, we Space Cats die of thirst.”

.

Tears welled up in Kim’s brown eyes, she lowered down her tail.

“Climb up, Cat! We’ll beat the dogs. Together we can’t fail.”

“You mean you’ll help?” asked Space Cat, “to save my family?”

“Yes!” mooed Kim. “We like to help! We’ll sort things out. You’ll see!”

.

Kim packed up her rucksack and called her farmyard friends;

“grab your things, we’re blasting off, this misery must end!”

Space Cat revved the engines and turned his headlights on.

The animals all climbed aboard and WHOOSH the ship was gone.

.

The pigs soon moaned, “we’re hungry! We need to eat and soon.”

And so they stopped for breakfast, a picnic on the moon.

The Moon Mice served as waiters; “Be seated, if you please!

Our local speciality is bread and lunar cheese.”

.

Stomachs full, they blasted off and travelled through the day,

past Mercury and Jupiter, towards the Milky Way.

They almost hit an asteroid, but made it safe and sound.

They reached the Space Cat’s planet, and landed on the ground.

                                                           .

“Milk once ran in rivers,” said Space Cat, teary-eyed.

“Then the Space Dogs came and now the river beds run dry.

They built a dam to trap the milk. Now they keep it all.”

“Never fear!” said Kim, “we’re here. We’ll knock away that wall!”

.

The farmyard crew worked as a team to build a wooden ram,

tipped with lead to batter down the Space Dogs’ horrid dam.

They bashed against the brickwork, they smashed against the stone,

but suddenly they realised, they were not alone.

..

Space Dogs growled and bared their teeth, surrounding Kim and crew.

Kim cried “charge!” The pigs attacked, the ducks and goats did too.

The Space Dogs trembled, turned and ran. They knew they couldn’t win.

“Well done everyone!” said Kim. Space Cat purred and grinned.

.

Then they battered down the dam, the milk flowed fast and free.

“Yay!” cheered Space Cat. “Thanks a lot! Let’s all go home for tea!”

Mrs Space Cat baked a cake and poured some lemonade.

They raised their glasses, “here’s a toast, to all the friends we’ve made!”

.

Space Cat flew Kim back to earth, with all her farmyard crew.

They promised that they’d keep in touch, as good friends always do.

And every single night time, as Kim gets into bed,

she wonders if a bright pink cat is flying overhead.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture: http://www.perrolocoproductions.com/ilustraciones/space_cow.jpg

Step Away From The Spoon! July 10, 2010

She aint so finger-lickin’

that cotton pickin’ chicken,

she gave me such a kickin’

and pecked off half my face.

.

You can count upon it,

I wish I hadn’t done it.

She warned me but I won it.

I ran the  egg / spoon race!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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picture: Chris Boyd

http://chrisboyd-characterdesign.blogspot.com/2009/07/angry-chicken.html

Chasing Rainbows July 10, 2010

I watched you chasing bubbles,

shrieking as the rainbows danced,

if only for an instant,

upon your outstretched hand.

And I wished the adult you,

the woman still to come,

would know that joy again.

For any who can capture that,

that pure sparkle of delight,

for even just a moment,

is luckier than most.

And if you pass through life

knowing you have helped others

catch bubbles for themselves,

and if some have tried their best for you,

you are blessed.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

When Granny Won Olympic Gold (2) July 4, 2010

The Winter Olympics: two thousand and six,

my granny set off for Turin.

She packed up her Zimmer frame, dentures and sticks,

some knitting and plenty of gin.

The bobsleigh was first, so she sat by the track,

when some silly man jabbed his knee in her back.

Granny hissed, crossly, “you terrible fool!”

and in the excitement her needles and wool

slipped off her lap and rolled under the bench,

gathering speed ‘til they fell in the trench.

.

Gran watched in horror, “my knitting! Good Lord!”

By now the event had begun.

A bobsleigh whizzed by and my gran leaped aboard

“please follow that wool, everyone!”

They sped down the hill at a frightening pace,

they rescued Gran’s wool and came first in the race.

Gran thanked her team-mates “itth been tho mucth fun,

but pleathe help me look for my teeth everyone!”

They never did find where her gnashers had rolled,

so melted her medal, for dentures of GOLD!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

When Granny Won Olympic Gold June 30, 2010

.

.

Granny says       “I won the gold!

your granddad took the bronze. He

would have broken records, if he hadn’t

bashed his bonce. He saw the final hurdle

and took his final jump. He broke his pelvic

girdle. Oh, he landed with a thump!” Gran,

the nurse, she dried his tears and put him

on a stretcher. He says “I’d take the fall

again, ‘cos that’s the way I metcha!”

So granddad only won the bronze,

that’s how the story’s told. “But

I won your dear granddad,

and so I took the

gold!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

 

Virtually a legend… June 27, 2010

I triumphed in the PGA,

Nick Faldo blew his chance.

Top scorer in the NBA.

I’ve raced la tour de France.

I would have won the FA cup

but mum said “time for tea!

Come on, son, you’ve had enough,

so please turn off the Wii!”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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photo courtesy of: http://hastiefitness.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/lazy_couch_potato.jpg

They all say that… June 15, 2010

If I turn grey

without a goal for England

or my own space station,

I shall just hurry up.

Nothing waits.

Time flies,

and the less that they have,

the more they seem to shuffle

and fiddle for change.

Can’t they see the green blades waving?

Maybe they’ve given up

and just watch for the scythe,

cheerfully waiting their turn,

aware that their best lies behind them.

I shan’t look back

through ash-tainted specs.

I shall go on and achieve and continue

to conquer and startle, amaze!

I shall name planets, win battles,

tame lions. I will!

I suppose a comfy chair

would be nice though.

And another slice of cake wouldn’t hurt,

Mrs Higgins.

Thanks, dear.

How’s Bert getting on?

Oh, that’s a pity.

Yes, well, I’m fine.

Mustn’t grumble.

I’ll just sit here awhile.

No hurry!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture: Study of an Old Man in Profile, c. 1630 – Rembrandt

Greyfriars Bobby June 13, 2010

Greyfriars Bobby

each night, when alone,

would dig up his master

and chomp on his bones.

But nobody noticed

his manner of dining;

they called him “devoted”

and thought he was pining.

And so, if you happen

to own a Skye Terrier,

demand a strong coffin

when they come to bury ya!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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.

Well, I’m not sure that this has much hope of getting intro a book which’ll sell to dog lovers. Still, one must follow one’s muse…

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The true story of Greyfriars Bobby can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greyfriars_Bobby

A Doggie Dirge June 13, 2010

Your eyes didn’t shine like they used to.

You struggled to stand, legs refused you.

Your tail still wagged

but so weakly, it sagged

and wrung tears from the people who knew you.

.

To me you were doggy perfection,

an unfailing well of affection.

I’ll never forget

how you licked at the vet

as she knelt down to give the injection.

.

Quite simply the greatest Great Dane,

you’re free now, released from your pain.

I’ll miss you until

I grow old and fall ill

and the angels unite us again.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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.

Picture from: http://www.stuff.co.nz/world/photos/3189754/White-Christmas

There’s no need for sympathy, dear readers. I’m just writing some poems for an anthology on dogs and puppies. Oh, a “dirge” is a hymn or a song for the dead. I know this is a poem, but hey…

Sea Dog! June 10, 2010

My dog doesn’t come when I call him,

he won’t chase a stick or a ball.

The cat tries to nibble and maul him.

He’s not what I hoped for at all!

I wanted a yorkie to cuddle

but this dog just swims in his dish.

My dad got himself in a muddle

and bought me this stupid dogFISH!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture from: http://www.dogfish.org/

I’d run a mile to avoid it! June 5, 2010

I swam the English Channel

and I raced the Tour de France.

With every yard I sensed him close behind me.

I scaled the Himalayas

and then jogged to Kazakhstan,

increasingly afraid that he would find me.

It doesn’t matter what I do,

He’s breathing down my neck.

I rode a horse to Timbuktu

then kayaked to Quebec.

But when my teacher catches me,

and carries off his prize,

at least I will have skipped P.E

I just hate exercise!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture from: http://flickr.com/photos/pikkukissa/697828303/

Diet? Be quiet! June 2, 2010

No-one is better at sport.
My training routine is a dream.
I guzzle Stagg Chili in quarts,
washed down with a gallon of cream.
You’ll never defeat me, don’t try to out-eat me!
As thin as a pin, you’re pathetic!
I’ll finish your bowl and then swallow you whole.
My innards are truly athletic!
There’s simply no beating competitive eating.
I work out with take-outs in bed.
Some people run, jump or swim for their fun,
I eat twenty pizzas  instead.

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Paul Hughes 2010

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Not that I’m recommending this “sport” to my lovely, healthy, readers, but if you’d like to feel good about yourselves, the next time you eat one cake too many, go and visit the Major League Eating website: www.ifoce.com

The Budgie’s Swan Song May 23, 2010

I heard the crash,

the muffled cries.

I took the stairs in threes.

Too late, too late,

I saw him go.

I watched him fade to nothing.

A shrinking kamikaze speck,

an open window,

one-way flight,

a final snatch at liberty.

He must have known,

he must have felt

the iced air’s frozen daggers.

He would have seen the twinkling cloak

of death glint on the branches.

And still his greying feathers sought

the freedom of the skyway.

No more would bars contain his soul,

or cage confine horizons.

So, as I drew the children near

to comfort those who’d set him free;

to kiss away the rolling tears

and still the trembling lips,

I knew that as he met his doom,

a windswept winter’s grave,

he’d not regret a thing.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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N.B. A “swan song” is a final act before death. It comes from the idea that swans, who don’t make a lot of noise, sing a most beautiful song just before they die. So, a swan song is usually some great, final act of creativity, some dramatic last act. Anyway, whilst I love writing verse, I need to diversify, become more flexible. Here’s my first effort, for a while, at unrhyming poetry for children – “free verse.”. Does it work?

Arion Ater Agg: The Black Slug May 22, 2010

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Twenty-seven thousand teeth,

no shell above but slime beneath,

their appetite’s beyond belief,

they eat their weight each day.

And if you grow azaleas

or try your hand at dahlias,

you’ll soon grow used to failure,

they’ll munch your blooms away.

It doesn’t matter what you do,

they’ll always get one up on you.

They’ll crunch on leaves the whole night through

and strip your garden bare.

And even if you spent the night

with salt and spade, prepared to fight,

they’ll wipe the floor with you, alright,

you haven’t got a prayer.

Don’t be upset, don’t look folorn,

abandon beds and plant a lawn;

you’ll never have to dread the dawn,

for slugs don’t dine on grass.

They’ll soon give up and move next door.

Though mowing lawns can be a bore,

you’ll stay slug-free, forever more,

and sleep, in peace, at last.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

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photo: http://pensbyetal.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html

Lichen May 22, 2010

Lichen bears the sun

asks for little, sleeps on rock

simple life, lived long.

.

Paul Hughes 2010

.

.

.

Feel cheated? Did you see that a new poem had been posted, only to find this haiku here? Well, we all have to try something new and different at some stage. Poets can’t live by verse alone. Why lichen? Well, if people want poems about lichen, that’s what I’ll try to write.  Let’s hope it gets in…

.

photo from: http://schmidling.com/lichen.htm

My Darling Miss Moth May 10, 2010

.

Moonflower wine is divine but quite strong
so don’t whine you’re feeling hung-over.
Every night you take flight by the light of
the stars but feel ill when it’s over.
The hours you keep, your refusal to sleep
makes you weak with exhaustion by day.
And this is why you didn’t make it to queue
on the day God gave colours away.
The butterflies, flowers and guppies were first
and God slapped on gallons of paint;
before he was finished his paint stocks diminished
he had to display some restraint.
By twenty to one all the colours had gone.
He only had black, white and brown
and this is when you, zebra, panda and gnu
came rushing, still yawning, to town.
There’s no need for tears even though it appears
that your colours are muffled and muted.
Your subtle display may seem dull in the day
but to moonlight it’s perfectly suited.
Queen of the night, what a dusky delight,
the stars blink in awe at your beauty.
Silvery, feathery, shimmering, heavenly,
moon-kissed and cloth-chomping cutie!
.

Paul Hughes 2010

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Picture: http://www.thedarktower.com/gallery/data/534/BH_web-NIght_Moth.jpg

Fly or Fry! May 9, 2010

! !

Fly!

Billy Butterfly had better fly,

for spiders like a bit of fly

and here’s a spider coming by.

That butterfly had better fly

for spiders fry a battered fly.

And if the spider

gets to bite

the butt of Billy Butterfly

the butterfly which wouldn’t fly

should not become a bitter fly.

For better flies than bitter flies,

than battered bitten bottom flies,

would not dispute their fate

but fry

!

.

Paul Hughes 2010

.

Picture: http://www.wildchicken.com/nature/garden/wild008_spiders.htm

Peculiar events! May 1, 2010

Hello there

One of the great things about having a blog is that people begin to contact you from around the world. Reading your comments and responding to your questions has been one of the most rewarding aspects of this journey.

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There have been visits from a good number of established children’s poets. That has been lovely, It’s fantastic to attract positive attention and I’m grateful for all the support I have received from those who have already walked the lonely road from obscurity to success. I’m hot on your heels, guys! Haha! I hope to be, anyway…

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Even better, however, has been the attention I have received from two (to date) incredibly creative souls.

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First came Pat Chupa, all the way from the other side of the US of A, who produces some beautiful hand made books. She made a book featuring my poem “Escargot No!” Here’s a picture of the front cover. it’s beautiful and has pride of place on my bookshelves. Thanks Pat!

You can see some more of her work at http://artistbooks.ning.com/profile/PatriciaChupa .

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And then came Drew Danielson. Again, another American from Pensylvania.  He contacted me a while ago to say that he was beginning to put some of my poems to music.  I was a little distracted at work at the time and thought little of it until I received the MP3 files by e-mail. I think you’ll agree that his musical interpretations of my poems are fantastic.

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So, this is a quick post. I just wanted to thank those of you who make me smile with your contributions to this blog.

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Here are the MP3 files Drew has sent me. I’ll place them in the poem posts too.

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ESCARGOT_NO

JOSEY WHALE

HARRY THE HALIBUT

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Thanks to both Pat and Drew!

.

Paul xx

The Outlaw Josey Whale. April 25, 2010

Sit yourself down and I’ll tell you a tale:

a western adventure at sea.

A story of bravery, villains unsavoury;

come now and listen to me!

.

Billy the Squid was a terrible brute,

and yet quite a hit with the girls.

He liked to rob sand-banks, ram raiding with fish tanks

and stealing poor Miss Oyster’s pearls.

.

But ending his life at the end of a rope,

he proved that, for most, crime won’t pay.

For Sheriff Sam Anchovy rode through the deep blue sea

tracking his criminal prey.

.

He rode on a sea-horse, a gun in each fin.

a ten gallon hat on his head.

A little bizarrely, where sheriffs wear stars he

would pin on a starfish instead.

.

Billy the Squid was the first on his list,

soon followed by Stickleback Steve.

And Mean Michael Mullet took so many bullets

he could have been used as a sieve.

.

But there was one villain who couldn’t be caught.

He always stayed one step ahead.

Yet Anchovy Sam kept on tracking his man

no matter where Josey Whale fled.

.

He tracked him through coral reefs, forests of kelp

His dogfish latched onto the scent.

But Josey was fast and the ocean too vast

and one day poor Sam’s strength was spent.

.

Old age caught up with our hero at last.

He never did catch Josey Whale.

They etched on his stone “My poor ghost will go on

until I’ve seen justice prevail!”

.

The wraith of Sam Anchovy didn’t wait long.

For Josey met justice quite soon.

A Japanese sailor upon a fast whaler

despatched Josey Whale with harpoons.

.

So listen up criminals, crime never pays.

You’ll always get what you deserve.

You’ll languish in jail or, like Josey Whale,

end up as a tasty hors d’oeuvre.*

.

Fin.

.

*“Hors d’oeuvre” is pronounced as “or derve” and is a restaurant term for “starter” or “appetiser.”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

.

The AWESOME illustration is from http://patrickmorganart.blogspot.com/

Cat Forgets Bowl! April 24, 2010

I’ve just sent my cat into orbit.
No kidding, we did it today!
He jumped in a rocket,
before they could stop it
it flew to the milky way.
I hope he won’t visit the dog star.
I pray he steers clear of black holes.
And when his ship lands
I hope he understands
it was HIS job to pack up his bowl!
.
Paul Hughes 2010

illustration from: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=115624141&blogId=492038884

Why the Crocodile is ashamed of his skin… April 13, 2010

“A feathered rainbow, Parakeet”
said Mr Crocodile.
“So beautiful, resplendent, bright;
I love your sense of style!
And Mrs Meerkat, you’re so sweet
Gazelle: so light upon your feet.
But look! My skin! Behold the sight!
It glimmers softly in the light,
I am the diamond of the Nile!
No-one outshines the Crocodile!”

.

“He does this every single night!”
sighed Mr Chimpanzee.
“ ‘blah di blah, my skin! My hide!’ .
He’s boring, isn’t he!?
His golden skin is smooth, he’s right,
it shimmers gently in the light.
His beauty cannot be denied.
But bad things come to those with pride.
That silly Crocodile will see
how fate will punish vanity!”

.

“Let’s sleep at night and drink by day”
suggested Buffalo.
“And then we’ll never have to hear
that big mouth’s boastful tones.”
They all agreed to stay away
and much to Crocodile’s dismay
He found his “friends” had disappeared.
He whimpered “is there no-one here…?”
But no-one heard his dreadful groans.
The Crocodile was all alone.

.

In time he found out what they’d done
“It’s pure jealousy!
I’ll visit them this afternoon
they’ll soon bow down to me!
They’ll praise my beauty, every one!”
But underneath the midday sun
his skin dried like a wrinkled prune.
No longer smooth, but roughly hewn.
No longer gold, but muddy green.
And this is why he hides, unseen.
.

.

Paul Hughes 2010
.
(based upon a story from the Bushmen of South Africa / Namibia)

Sea Monster Snacks April 12, 2010

Crunchy, nutritious, much slower than fish
they’re easily caught, and the tastiest dish.
Slicing, removing the rubbery skin
allows us to get to the goodness within.
Pull off the air tanks, the ovals of glass.
Remove all the tubing. We’re ready at last!
Fry them with sea-weed. A dash of red wine
will help to diminish the taste of the brine.
Boil them and mash them or blend in a bowl.
But I must admit that I swallow them whole.
Four for two-fifty, or ten for a fiver!
try ‘em, you’ll love ‘em! Buy fresh Scuba Diver!
.
Paul Hughes, 2010

There comes a point… April 7, 2010

My sports career is down the pan.

Olympic dreams unravellin’.

And just because I killed a man

while practising the javelin.

.

Paul Hughes, 2010

Chemistry Lesson No. 1: H + O = H2 Oh… Splash! April 7, 2010

Mix oxygen and hydrogen,
as much as you can get.
Strike a match and step right back,
or else you’ll end up wet.
Mix oxygen and hydrogen,
be careful how you go;
for if you mix too much of it,
you’ll drown in H2O!
,
Paul Hughes, 2010

Drugs Round March 29, 2010

The girl in the chair sings “bing bung bing!”
and the man in the bed chimes “bong!”
‘cos this is the song which the patients sing
when the nurse gives the drugs out wrong.
.
Paul Hughes 2010

The Woodlouse and the Centipede March 21, 2010

The Woodlouse and the Centipede lay basking in the sun
When Dragonfly buzzed by with invitations.
“It is the Queen Bee’s birthday, and the party starts at One.
She hopes you will attend the celebrations.”
“Please hurry, Centipede,” said ‘Louse, “there is no time to lose.
We need to find a hundred socks and polish all your shoes.
You know how sharp Queen Bee can be, about the slightest thing.
Her honey tastes so sweet and yet her sarcasm can sting.”

.
At twelve o clock the Woodlouse and the Centipede set out.
They gleamed and shone like diamonds in the light.
And how they dazzled all the other insects round about,
who stood and stared, mouths open, at the sight.
“My Centipede” the Woodlouse purred, “the handsomest of men.
I haven’t felt as proud as this since, oh, I don’t know when.”
“Dear Woodlouse” said the Centipede, “you set my heart awhirl,
”my darling little cheese-log*, armadillidium** girl.”

.
Arm in arm, they reached the hive, enchanting all the guests
who saw them come and gasped to see their beauty.
“The Centipede is such a hunk,” the Ladybird confessed,
“and look at Woodlouse! Isn’t she a cutie?!”
“That filthy Woodlouse, call her cute?” The Queen Bee screamed with rage.
“I like to think I’m prettier. I’m barely half her age!
And as for Centipede,” she yelled, “I’ve seen more handsome guys.
Why look, he has a double chin, a beer-gut, pudgy thighs!”

.
“How dare they come,” she screamed again, “out-shining me, their Queen?
Pretending they’re as beautiful as I?
Schizophyllum sabulosum***, Chuggypig!* Obscene!
Be gone foul Slater*, get thee hence! Goodbye!
I banish you forevermore, forever from my sight.
Dare not leave your homes by day, restrict yourselves to night.
And if I see you wearing colour, anything but grey,
I swear to God almighty, you will not survive the day.”

.
And so, dear reader, now you know why woodlice fear the light
and why our friends, the centipedes, are only seen at night.
The Queen Bee is a jealous beast, she cannot bear to see
anything as beautiful, as glorious as she.

.
*Slater, cheeselog, chuggypig: regional names for “woodlouse”

** a genus of woodlice

*** Latin name for “centipede”

.

Paul Hughes 2010

Cousin Bill February 17, 2010

Cousin Bill became so ill, his mum called 999.

The ambulance was slow to come, but made it just in time.

They rushed him to the hospital, he had an operation.

I shouldn’t laugh, he nearly died: of chronic constipation.

,

“I lived and yet I can’t forget how close I came to death.

I thought: ‘that’s it, my time has come’ with every gasping breath.

I knew my strength was fading fast. I’d never been so scared.

The lesson I have learned is this: ‘I’ll always be prepared!’”

,

“The ambulance was slow and so, I bought one of my own.

But then I thought ‘who’d drive me, for I’m living all alone?’

I tried to find a lodger but I only had one bed.

No-one would move in with me… I kidnapped them instead.”

,

That’s what he did. He snatched and hid a doctor and a nurse,

surgeons, midwives, chaplains, undertakers (and their hearse).

He kidnapped several firemen, a plumber, electricians,

a cook, a maid, a carpenter, chiropodists, beauticians.

,

“No matter what, I’ve always got my team to put things right.

I even have a nanny tuck me into bed at night.

Whatever happens, it’s OK, there’s no need to be scared,

so long as I remember ‘I must always be prepared.’”

,

Cousin Bill continued ‘til his neighbours heard the screams

and muffled sounds of digging: captives tunnelling in teams.

They called the cops but no-one came. Where were they? No-one knew.

Cousin Bill was well prepared. They’d been abducted too!

,

Paul Hughes 2010

,

Super Snail! January 19, 2010

Woodlouse Boy and Hedgehog Girl

are just no use at all.

Whenever they see villainy

they curl up in a ball.

,

Moth Man only works at night,

but justice will prevail.

All criminals with shake with fear,

for here comes Super Snail!

,

Super Snail will win the day,

although he takes his time.

Just watch him race to catch his man

and smother him in slime.

,

Spiderman can spin his webs.

Let Batman keep his cave.

For there’s no superhero

like Super Snail the Brave.

,

Paul Hughes 2010

.

(Photo by Lizette Greco)

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

.

(illustration from: moblog.net/media/ j/u/d/judojule/grandma.jpg)

.

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 gobble and 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