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random poetry for children kids poems

Can't make up you mind whether you want a funny or sad - long or short - pink or violet poem? Here are a few from our vast poetry collection.



Collection : Poems for Children - 813

 

Mother Tabbyskins - Nursery Rhyme by Author Unknown

Sitting at a window,
In her cloak and hat,
I saw Mother Tabbyskins,
The real old cat!

Very old, very old,
Cruplety and lame;
Teaching kittens how to scold--
Is it not a shame?

Kittens in the garden,
Looking in her fce,
Learning how to spit and swear,
Oh, what a disgrace!

Very wrong, very wrong,
Very wrong, and gbad;
Such a subject for our song,
Makes us all too sad.

Old Mother Tabbyskins,
Sticking out her hand,
Gave a howl, and then a yowl,
Hobbled off to bed.

Very sick, very sick,
Very savage, too;
Pray send for a doctor quick,
Any one will do!

Doctor mouse came creeping,
Creeping to her bed;
Lanced her gums and felt her pulse,
Whispered she was dead.
Very sly, very sly,
The real old cat,
Open kept her weather eye--
Mouse! Beware of that!

Old Mother Tabbyskins,
Saying 'Serves hm right,'
Gobbled up the doctor,
With infinite delight.

'Very fast, very fast,
Very pleasant, too--
What a pity it can't last!
Bring another, do.'

Doctor Dog comes running,
Jus to see her begs;
Round his neck a comforter,
Trousers on his legs.

Very grand, very grand--
Golden-headed cane
Swinging gaily from his hand,
Mischief in his brain!

'Dear Mother Tabbyskins,
And how are you now?
Let me feel your pulse--so, so;
Show your tongue--bow wow.'

'Very ill, very ill.'
'Please attempt to purr;
Will you take a draught or pill?
Which do you prefer?'
Ah, Mother Tabbyskins,
Who is now afraid?
Of poor little Doctor Mouse
You a mouthful made.

Very nice, very nice,
Little doctor he,
But for Doctor Dog's advice
You must pay the fee.

Doctor Dog comes nearer,
Says she must be bled;
I heard Mother Tabbyskins
Screaming in her bed.

Very close, very close,
Scuffling out and in;
Doctor Dog looks full and gross--
Where is Tabbyskins?

I will tell the moral
Without any fuss;
Those who lead the young astray,
Always suffer thus,

Very nice, very nice,
Let our conduct be;
For all doctors are not mice,
Some are dogs, you see!


= = = = = = = = = =



To a Brussels Sprout by Stuart McLean

O, Brussels sprout sae green and round,
Ye sit upon ma plate,
So innocently mystifying,
The cause o’ much debate.

Some say ye taste like camel droppings,
While others think you great,
I’m sure your sitting there a wonderin’,
Whit’s goin’ tae be your fate.

So let me tell you o’ so quick,
As nervously you wait,
That I find you e’er so loathsome,
So you definitely won’t be ate.

Stuart McLean (From No' Rabbie Burns)



= = = = = = = = = =



The Christmas Kitten by Author Unknown

I once was a cuddly kitten,
But now I am a stray,
'Cause when I was no longer fluffy,
They sent me on my way.

They've kept their big watchdog,
As he can bark and growl,
But I could fly at strangers,
If I caught them on the prowl.

I slink around their garbage can;
I mew outside their door;
But it's clear from their behaviour,
They don't want me anymore.

Now I'm cold and hungry,
And getting very thin,
What have I done to hurt them,
Why won't they let me in?

I crouch in sheds and boxes,
In my bedraggle fur,
So shivery and dejected,
I cannot even purr.

They have another kitten,
Their children's whole delight;
But probably next Christmas,
It will share my wretched plight.



= = = = = = = = = =



Bump by Spike Milligan

Things that go 'bump' in the night
Should not really give one a fright.
It's the hole in each ear
That lets in the fear,
That, and the absence of light!


= = = = = = = = = =



Epilogue to Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

A BOAT, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear
Pleased a simple tale to hear --

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden gleam --
Life what is it but a dream?



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