Poems

I open the door
Of my home
After all, the sun
Looks like a tennis
Ball today and
I like going outside.
So, I wear my hat
And open the door
To go out.
I’ll lie on the grass.
Wait! What is that
Thing under the door?
It’s a lizard.
Is the lizard dead?
I lunge downwards to
See it. It runs out.
Ok! It is isn’t dead.
It runs into a bush.
It may come back.
So I almost close the door
So that the lizard can’t get in.
After all, my mother is
Scared of them.
So I almost close the door
And lie on the grass
To sunbathe.

In the dance,
mum was in a trance.
Dad was slap-happy,
even that was casually!

Emma was smiling
as well as crying.
Josh wasn’t there –
he’s never anywhere.

Lila was on crutches,
Bert had lots of lunches.
Grandma was dancing,
more like prancing!

Grandpa had the flu
so he wasn’t there too.
So there was only Auntie Jane,
And she went out and caught a plane.

So I was left all myself,
without even Bert there to dance by himself!
It really wasn’t such a nice dance,
only mum was in a trance.

The plug socket
sat patiently,
waiting for his friend,
longing to share his electricity.

Across the room
the windows’ frustration was being tested,
as children slammed them shut.

The claustrophobic post-it notes
eagerly waited
for someone to need them.

The pens and pencils
joyfully danced across the paper
while the blunt pencils scowled with jealousy.

The tables
squished the bristly carpet
while disrespectful children leaned and
drew on them.

The trays sunk down like deep sea divers
as the lights above flickered,
while unwanted scrap paper
sat dejected in the tray,
longing for a tickle of a pen.

The fire alarm, waiting, bored of waiting,
wished for its glass to be broken.

The lights turned off,
the children left
and the classroom was left in peace,
to sleep.

Have any of you
Seen this movie
Called the Theory
Of Everything?
It’s about this person.
This person, who gets
A rare neuron disease.
Doctors told him he would
Die from the disease.
But did he? He didn’t.
He went on to make discoveries
And the best part was
With this disease!
Can you believe that?
About the universe we are in
A few years ago
A website crashed
Thanks to him.
He’s not a hacker though.
People just wanted to read
This paper that was made
Public on this website.
But, the sad thing’s that
He passed away recently.
Yes, that’s true.
His name was Stephen Hawking
He flew to heaven a few days ago.
And this poem is just
A small tribute
To this great man.

This is Teddy
Teddy says, Hi…

Morgan’s hands might be
As rough as sackcloth.
After all, he’s a blacksmith
But when he bathes
His children, his hands
Turn themselves into flowers
And become as soft as
A pillow made by
A luxury bedding company.