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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Painting The Silver Desert
Hey Silvereye!Hey moon the colour of spoon!
It is time you were redecorated!
We Earthlings perched on this little wet and dry planet
are tired of your unbroken silveriness,
we need cheering up!
So it is time to paint the deep levels of your cratersa bold, intrepid aquamarine.
Your saucery rimrocks shall be streaked with white,
(not a dreadful fog-white but a divine frost-white).
We shall swing high on scaffolding and paint your
slanting mountains in the rowdy colours of wild horses.
Canyons and chasms, rifts and ravines will remain dark,
dark as bark.
Your drab, flat seas will be tinted grassland green;your battered rocks and boulders a fiery prairie red.
Hand-sized stones will carry the colours of wine and plums;
lilac for all small pebbles.
And your dust, your powdery, gauzy, cheerless dustwe shall also paint. Each speck will be hand-tinted –
each a richer colour than the one before,
and each a finer colour than the one after.
And when, sweetly in the middlenight, we Earthlingslook up to view you bustling across
that muddled, star-thrown sky, you will appear
to us as some majestic eastern emperor might,
bejewelled with scintillating gemstones,
adorned with shimmering pearls.
And you, silver desert, will be the most dazzling,
the most vivid, the most alluring,
the most miraculous chunk of rock in our startling solar system.
And of the sun?Ah, the sun in her gassy mass of sallow yellow
will be green with envy!
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.
