‘The hole in the wall’ and other poems for children. I will add poems here from time to time some will have been published others will be new.
The hole in the wall
There is a garden I know,
with an old dry stone wall.
I wonder who lives there,
perhaps no one at all.
Maybe a spider with spots brown and gold,
a mouse with a family to keep from the cold.
A slithery snake could climb into the gap,
a hedgehog curl up for a long winter nap.
The hole is quite dark so I can’t really see
but I think there are eyes staring right back at me.
It could be a toad and this is his home
or a safe place for snails until babies have grown.
For bees it is handy because they like flowers,
they could make lots of honey which takes hours and hours.
But why not a dragon who blows fire and smoke
or a home for a gnome and magical folk?
A shifty black beetle runs past my nose,
if I watch him quite carefully I’ll will see where he goes.
The floor is all earthy but I think I can see,
spotty brown toadstools as far as can be.
In the roof there’s a crack with a wee bit of light
where a ladybird likes to crawl up and take flight.
Butterflies might want to hide from the rain,
rest for a while and fly off again.
There is a garden I know with an old dry stone wall,
I wonder who lives there, perhaps no one at all.
My dad works in the circus
And when we go to school
He shows me lots of circus tricks,
He likes to play the fool.
Miss Chivers showed him round one day,
He cartwheeled in the gym
And swung on ropes above our heads
So we all laughed at him.
Mr Potts was cleaning windows
When dad was going round,
He put a bucket on his head
Two metres from the ground.
He juggled in the classroom
With books and balls and rings
And balanced boxes on his nose
And other clever things.
Mrs Pie was in the kitchen
Dad loves to help with flour.
He made some lovely custard pies.
Which passed a pleasant hour.
Miss Chivers said “It’s time to go”
But dad was having fun
So he strung us up a tightrope,
We practised one by one.
But now we have to do our work
So dad will have to go,
Will he listen? Not my dad,
He’s swinging to and fro.