Balloonery Buffoonery!
I hate balloons in packets,
red ones are the worst.
I hate them being blown up,
it scares me when they burst.
They’re nastically plasticky,
they’re ballistically blasticky,
they’re drastically nasticky,
they’re bloodthirstically bombasticky!
I hate balloons at parties
if they’re in the hands of boys.
Or if the magician twists an animal
and there’s that squeaky balloony noise.
It’s excruciatingly nauseating,
it’s frustratingly abominating,
it’s gratingly penetrating,
it’s inflatingly aggravating!
I hate balloons at Christmas
when they’re dangling from the tree.
I shove my fingers in my ears,
in case they pop and scare me.
They’re ponderously wonderous,
they’re plunderously sunderous,
they’re murderously blunderous,
they’re gunpowderously thunderous!
(I’m the only balloonophobic in the balloonophobicphonebook!)
John Rice
The author encourages parents, teachers and librarians to read the poems to children and young people. However, the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
Random Poetry!
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The Cry-Babies that Live in the Sun
When the Satsuma sun rises on a soft summer morningthe Cry-Babies are tearful:
“Phew, phew! Too hot, too hot! I want the sun to set!” they howl.
When the sallow sun sets on a wild winter eveningthe Cry-Babies are snivelling:
“Brrr, brrr! Too cold, too cold! I want the sun to rise!” they bawl.
Silly little Cry-Babies! Don’t know what they want.Darkness, lightness…coldness, warmness…happiness, sadness.
“Yes! Yes! That’s what we want! All them! All them!”
Cry-Babies…huh!
John Rice
The author encourages parents, teachers and librarians to read the poems to children and young people. However, the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
