This poem is published on The Dirigible Balloon website.
I’ve never been in a limousine,But I’ve sat on the back of a horse.I’ve pedalled a trike and a two-wheeled bike,with a bicycle bell, of course. I’ve travelled by train there and back againand sometimes transferred to a tram.I’ve stood on a bus, such a terrible fuss,In a terrible traffic jam. I’ve soared in a plane on a visit to Spain,Where I paddled a river canoe.I’ve sailed in a boat and I’ve sat on a float,And I’ve driven a car or two. I’ve ridden balloons over murky lagoons,I’ve scooted, I’ve skated, I’ve cruised.But there is a new word that I recently heard,A vehicle I’ve never used. I’ve travelled the Earth from New Jersey to Perth,So it’s clear that I love things vehicular.I don’t mean to complain but will someone explain,What precisely… exactly… specifically… is a funicular?
I am a young geologist,I study gems and rocks,And go fossicking for fossils,then add them to my box. I have all sorts of crystals,Some are very rare,Some I gathered from a beach,I found them everywhere. Some rocks are from volcanos,Some wash up on a shore,Some came from a quarry,Where there’s many, many more. My favourites are the shiny gemsWith colours clear and bright.From blackest black obsidian,To ones that let through light. There’s chrysocolla, jasper,Emerald, onyx, jade,Amethyst, carnelian.Their colours never fade. Maybe when I’m older,I’ll go digging when I’m free,And find a new gem never seen,And name it after me.
The cuttlefish seizesThe chance when it pleasesTo show off its prizes,Its colourful guises.When danger arisesThe cuttlefish choosesSome clever disguisesAnd brilliant ruses. The cuttlefish usesA plan it devises,A plan that confusesAnd often bemuses.A plan that comprisesIts inky surprisesThe cuttlefish oozes(sometimes hypnotises). The predator losesAnd off the prey breezes.The danger defusesAnd nervousness easesThe colour arisesThe cuttlefish snoozes.The end.
I’ll tidy my room after breakfast,I’ll tidy my room up today,I’ll pick up the Lego and take out the food,Please don’t take my Nintendo away. I’ll tidy my room up tomorrow,I’ll tidy it when I get home,I’ll fold all my clothes and I’ll empty the bin,Please leave my Nintendo alone. I’ll tidy my room soon, I promise,I’ll tidy it up spick and span,I’ll dust it and vacuum and open the blinds,Then I’ll play for as long as I can. Look! I’ve tidied my room like you wanted,I’ve even cleaned under the bed,I’m going to play my Nintendo right now…Oh, I can’t, ’cause the battery’s dead.
Good morning, postie, have you got a package just for me?I sent a letter to my gran who lives across the sea.I’ve been waiting for her answer, but she hasn’t written yet,I wrote last week to ask her, please, to send a little pet. A kitten or a hamster, or perhaps a little mouse,Anything much larger wouldn’t fit inside our house.I hope it’s not a tiger, that would make a giant mess,I’d have to ask to keep it and my mum would NOT say yes! Tell me, postie, please, because I can’t wait here all day,I’ll need to buy some pet food and some toys so we can play,And if it is a tiger, kindly leave it on the mat,I’ll send it back to granny and request a little cat. (c) Copyright Pamela Ueckerman (Pamela Jones) 2023. All rights reserved.
Where do all the lost things go, like pens and pegs and socks?Remote controls and library books and keys for little locks?Where do all the hair pins go? What about the glasses?The paperclips? Elastic bands? The buttons and train passes?Could it be that all those things are swept far out to sea?And whale sharks trade them with their friends and charge a whopping fee?Or maybe there’s a palace built by ants deep underground,Each table, chair and throne is made from things the ants have found.Or maybe, just perhaps, there lives a bird who likes such things,And there you’ll find them tucked into a nest that’s fit for kings. https://youtu.be/KEfGKUo5-D0