Today we have a shape poem, and an animation – thank you to animator Nick Hales who animated the kitten so beautifully!
If you fancy writing a poem yourself, why not enter my Covid19 poetry competition? Details link in the side bar, or a couple of posts down from here!
Joke:
What looks like half a cat?
¡ɟlɐɥ ɹǝɥʇo ǝɥʇ
Here’s my favourite dog in the bluebells! And a poem below all about different types of dogs. See how many breeds you can guess! Do you have one of them?
Dogs, Dogs, Dogs…
There’s huge hairy mountains
with stalactite drool,
that plunge into rivers
and puddles and pools,
that shake after bathing
in whirlwinds of fur,
and send all their loose skin
a-whizz and a-whirr,
or flollopy-lollops,
the smell connoisseurs,
with excess of ear
a-flap and a-blur,
the low-slung torpedoes
with bright, soulful eyes,
full of courage and heart
though half a dog high,
the dependable dogs
with table-clear tails,
big snacketites
and loyal without fail,
the bundles of feisty
all tumbles and rolls,
all-go dog dynamoes
that disappear down holes,
the elegant racers
with elongate faces,
who are mostly asleep
when not having chases,
the crosses with charm
and oodles of cutes,
bright as round buttons
in curled or wool suits,
the broad faced with jowls
and shoulders of bulk,
the gentle of nature
belied by their hulk,
the obedient workers,
intelligence furred,
their unquenchable aim
to round up and herd,
all small dogs and big dogs
the smooth, silky, rough
the plain, spots, and brindles
the meek and the tough
pet dogs and work dogs
a champ or rescue;
the thing they’ve in common
is they all love you.
© Liz Brownlee
Write a poem about your dream pet – it doesn’t need to be a real animal, it could be a unicorn, or a phoenix, or another magical creature with amazing abilities. Or it could be he pet you’ve always wanted. What’s the best thing about them, and the worst? How do they feel, look, sound, smell?
As you can see, Lola is extremely good at making paper boats, and origami in general. VERY unlike the hero of Colin West‘s poem, below… Colin is a great favourite here on Poetry roundabout, thank you Colin!
Limerick
Limericks are always five lines long.
Lines 1, 2 and 5 have the same rhyme, and are longer than lines 3 and 4.
Lines 1, 2 and 5 have a rhythm that goes : duh DUM duh duh DUM duh duh DUM
Lines 3 and 4 rhyme have a different rhyme.
Lines 3 and 4 also have a different rhythm: duh DUM duh duh DUM
This is the rhythm of the limerick written out:
duh DUM duh duh DUM duh duh DUM
duh DUM duh duh DUM duh duh DUM
duh DUM duh duh DUM
duh DUM duh duh DUM
duh DUM duh duh DUM duh duh DUM
See if you can write one! They are great fun. Here is another one:
Ducks’ quacks all sound the same. How do they tell whether it is their quack or not if they are all quacking at the same time?
Ducks quack as they’re to-ing and fro-ing,
So they must have some way of knowing,
if a quack is the quack
of a friend quacking back
or their own quack coming and going.
Lola does not paint very often, she is not that artistic, but just occasionally she makes her mark for a good cause. She is a passionate believer in libraries and books and reading – as you can see from her poster.
Thank you to Sarah Ziman for the today’s poem – I think you will see the connection to the above subject, once you have read it!
Masterpiece Mum
My face is shaped like a potato,
I’ve got rather odd coloured skin –
one eye is up high on my forehead,
and the other is nearer my chin.
My cabbage leaf ears are enormous,
my earrings could be nuts and bolts,
for my hair just imagine a hedgehog –
who’s somehow received ninety volts.
My cheeks are as red as two cherries,
my teeth are a giant white bridge,
but you can tell from my grin that I’m happy –
and I’m proud to be stuck to the fridge!
© Sarah Ziman
Lola is a very strange dog. She is not keen on the garden. She likes a game of football, she loves a game of catch, she enjoys the occasional jump over agility fences, but if we are just gardening, or sitting, she goes to the door to be let back in. She much prefers being on the windowsill looking out at the garden. If you let her out for a wee she races back in. So she would definitely not be around to be painted by John Rice’s Grandpa. Thank you John!
When Grandpa Painted the Garden
When Grandpa painted the garden
He used all the tins in his shed
He painted the daffodils purple
And the lilies, half-blue and half-red
He painted the grass sparkling silver,
The roses were spotted and striped
But the daisies hid under the bushes
So they could avoid being swiped.
He painted the trees all in yellow:
A wonderful golden effect.
Then, smiling, he turned and faced Grannie:
His next multicoloured project.
© John Rice
Joke:
Knock, knock!
Who’s there?
Orange!
Orange who?
Orange you glad I’m here?
Today we have an orange funny poem. Above you can see puppy Lola luxuriating on an enormous orange bean bag… she still likes big beds the bigger the better. Today’s poem is by Roger Stevens – thank you, Roger!
Hallowe’en
Darren’s got a pumpkin
Hollowed out a treat
He put it in the window
It scared half the street
I wish I had a pumpkin
But I’ve not and it’s a shame
I’ve got a scary carrot
But it’s not the same
© Roger Stevens
Joke:
Are any vampires good at maths?
¡ɐןnɔɐɹᗡ ʇunoϽ noʎ ssǝןun – oN
Here’s Lola looking slightly guilty as she knows she is not meant to have snuck onto my duvet… today we have a wonderful ‘red’ funny poem about Red Riding Hood, with a twist – The Wolf, by Carole Bromley, thank you, Carole!
The Wolf
It’s not true that I ate the granny;
thought about it but she was too skinny,
so tough she’d have given me wind.
All I did was put her in a cupboard.
The riding hood made me see red
all that ooh Grandma stuff she said
gruff voice, hairy hands, big teeth.
Couldn’t she see what was underneath?
And I never tempted her off that path
Flowers? Me? Don’t make me laugh.
What I really wanted was those cakes,
that honey, those yummy tray bakes.
I’m allergic to pesky kids in red
and their bony grans. Whatever I did
I didn’t deserve that axe,
just wanted to chill out, relax.
The bed was so comfy, the pillow so soft
I put on the nighty, felt a bit daft
but curled up tight for a bit of a kip
when little red turns up, skippety skip
with marigolds in a little posy.
Why did she have to be so nosy?
Ooh Grandma this Ooh grandma that,
questions, questions. What a brat.
All the better to eat you with. My joke
fell flat. Before you know it this bloke
barges in, never even knocked,
broke the door down. It wasn’t locked.
Opened the wardrobe, let out gran,
came at me with his chopper. I ran
in night-cap and bloomers down that lane,
Catch me going there again.
© Carole Bromley
Joke:
What are the wolf’s favourite days of the year?
¡sʎɐp-ᴉ-lʍoɥ ǝɥʇ
This is Lola as a puppy on the red bean bag, with her favourite toy – she still loves balls! Today there is a red poem by Neal Zetter, thank you very much, Neal!
Red
Red is a stunning sunset horizon
Red is a flickering flame
Red is the hottest hue you’ll lay your eyes on
Red is half the pack of a playing card game
Red is the brightness in neon lighting
Red is the blood of Count Dracula’s biting
The Devil himself is red, red, red!
Which shade did Dad choose to paint our garden shed?
Red!
Don’t confuse the Red Sea with the Dead Sea
Which is your favourite red fruit – cherry, raspberry or strawberry?
Too much TV and IT will redden your eyes
Red ants in your pants is not a pleasant surprise
If your skin’s burning lobster red get off that sunbed
Check out those clowns with massive red noses
Smell the sweetness of my Valentine’s red roses
He was red with embarrassment
She was red with anger
Swimming by the red flag puts you in grave danger
Stop!
A red signal will halt speeding traffic
Pop!
My red balloon burst as a pin pricked its plastic
If your red’s too red then think
About mixing in white to turn it pink
Ladies like to apply red makeup to their lips
Kids love to pour red ketchup on their chips
And if you’re seriously silly
You might put raw red chilli on your tongue
Want a red fire engine dial 911
In the USA
Or 999 in the UK
Ole!
The bull charged the matador on seeing red
If you’re colourblind you may be seeing green instead
Red rubies, cabbages, hair, beetroot, cheeks
Apples, pandas, buses, Lego bricks.
© Neal Zetter
So a slight change in direction -we will still have funny poems posted but also – a rainbow of poems, starting with this great funny and red poem by Jan Dean! Thank you, Jan!
Lola doesn’t often wear a hat. But when she does, I think you will agree, she does it with aplomb. This is her in piratical mood. Today’s poem is about a hat. Or is it? It’s by Jonathan Humble, thank you Jonathan!
Joke:
What did the tie say to the hat?
¡punoɹɐ ƃuɐɥ ll,I ‘pɐǝɥ ɐ uo oƃ noʎ
Here is Jonathan’s lovely dog, Arthur, just after eating a biscuit!
Lola is not allowed cakes or biscuits. But at the North Somerset Teachers’ Book Awards ceremonies, there are always a LOT of cakes. The books are showcased on Twitter by the ceremony organisers’ dogs. Dogs are always welcome. And so just this once, when a little hopeful head poked up underneath the tablecloth, I allowed her to have a little lick.
Today’s poem is by me – it’s all about a Snack Attack.
And here’s a joke:
How do alien poets write their poems?
¡sǝsɹǝʌ-ᴉun uᴉ
After John Rice’s funny poem was posted, poet Trevor Millum wrote this and sent it to me, about Lola and Milla on the stairs. It made me laugh, so here it is! You’ll have to read John’s post below to see about Lola and Milla’s relationship. (Milla was equally jealous of Lola getting any attention!)
Hence the Stare
I give you a stare
from the stairs, cos
don’t think that I’m unaware
that this mog has to share
your affection. Beware!
For under this hair
is a sensitive heart which
Just doesn’t care at all
about being fair.
Hence the stare.
© Trevor Millum
Joke:
Why wouldn’t the shrimp share his treasure?
¡ɥsıɟןןǝɥs ǝןʇʇıן ɐ sɐʍ ǝɥ ǝsnɐɔǝq
So here is Lola, looking muddy after a walk in the park… actually not as muddy as he has been, she can completely change colour to dark brown! She definitely loves rolling in dirt… so I was thrilled to receive this poem, kindly sent by Sally Wiltshire (thank you, Sally), which is PERFECT – I have often had to attach Lola to a lead when, er, well, read on…!
Dog’s out walking,
dog is good,
strutting round
the neighbourhood.
Dog’s excited
nears the park;
can’t resist
a cocky bark.
Dog’s impatient
picks up speed,
yanks the human
with the lead.
Dog is running
very fast,
off the bloomin’
lead at last.
Spots some fun,
puts on a spurt,
Dog is rolling
in the dirt.
Dog is stinking
pleased as punch;
the human has
a nasty hunch.
Hmm
Dog has rolled
in something vile
can smell him coming
from a mile
Dog jogs up,
with tail held high;
human gives
a sorry sigh.
Dog is bad
apparently
although, quite why,
Dog fails to see.
Dog is fastened
to the lead,
sees no problem,
sees no need,
no flippin’ reason,
to be cross;
the stinkier,
the better, Boss.
Don’t she know
a stink is gooooood
when strutting
round the neighbourhood?
© Sally Wiltshire
What does a dog magician say?
¡ɹopɐɹqɐpɐɔɐɹqɐl
One of my favourite photos of Lola today – flying, ears in their normal position when she is running, straight up! Today I am delighted to have guest poet Colin West’s poem Invisible Isobel featured, and not ONLY a poem but Colin’s wonderful, charming illustrations to go with it!
Joke:
Why did the invisible boy fail his maths test?
¡sɹǝƃuᴉɟ sᴉɥ uo ʇunoɔ ʇ,uplnoɔ ǝɥ ǝsnɐɔǝq
This is me and my daughter walking Lola when she was very small, in Wells, Somerset. There was something very cute about Lola when she was a puppy, so eager to get out and explore everything she had to be a step in front of her ability to take everything in. She caused several traffic jams in the village with people hanging out of their car windows to see and ask what sort of dog she was – she was 10 years old in December last year, and there weren’t so many Australian labradoodles around 10 years ago, and certainly very few cockerpoos, which nowadays many people presume she is.
So today’s poem about a traffic jam is by Sarah Ziman – thank you, Sarah!
Cars of silver, red, and blue
Motorbikes and buses too
Put them in your biggest pan
Stir them with a caravan
Measure sugar – half a cup
Next a lorry, broken up
Petrol, or perhaps some oil
Carefully begin to boil
Simmer for an hour at most –
Traffic jam to spread on toast!
© Sarah Ziman
Joke:
Why did the skeleton cross the road?
¡doɥS ʎpoq ǝɥʇ oʇ ʇǝƃ oʇ
Poetry Roundabout 