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Rufus Reed Poem
Millicent Portia Ponsonby-Smyth
Could speak fluent French by the time she was five.
By the age of just eight she was top of her class,
There wasn’t a test that she couldn’t pass.
English and maths she coped with just fine
And quantum mechanics she’d mastered by nine.
Her parents were proud, but a little concerned
That she’d never have fun if she stayed in to learn.
Her father said, “Millicent go out and play.”
“But father I’m reading so here I shall stay.”
“Being so clever is great there’s no doubt,
But once in a while you need to get out.”
She said, ”Pater, please listen I’m happy to study,
And if I go out there’s a chance I’ll get muddy.”
That very night she was taken off guard,
She discovered a sum that was simply too hard.
She stomped round her room in utter frustration,
She just couldn’t do this quadratic equation.
Gnashing her teeth and tearing her hair
She kicked out in temper at her teddy bear.
It flew through the air and bounced off the wall,
So she kicked it again before it could fall.
It bounced off her head and then off her knee
And suddenly Millicent giggled with glee.
She continued all night to kick it around.
For hours she kept it from touching the ground.
In the following weeks she practiced some more
And saved all the money she earnt from her chores.
She went to the shop, bought a ball and some boots,
And learnt how to dribble and learnt how to shoot.
Every day after school she went to the park
And practiced her football until it was dark.
She continued to study the books and the sport
And paid close attention to all she was taught.
13 years later Miss Smyth is delighted
She’s the first girl in history to play for United.
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Rufus Reed Poem
Sometimes cakes are upside down,
And brownies are not always brown.
A steak should not be made of wood,
And well done doesn’t mean it’s good.
Sometimes food is sweet and sour,
Petals are not found in flour.
It’s fair to say before they’re eaten
Spuds get mashed and eggs get beaten.
Sugar often gets dissolved,
But there’s no cruelty involved.
One gastronomic puzzle lingers,
What kind of fish is born with fingers?
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Rufus Reed Poem
My glass is made of plastic,
My chilli's rather hot,
So why do people name things
After things they're clearly not?
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2013
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Rufus Reed Poem
It's warm beneath this duvet.
Outside it's cold and grey.
I wish I could roll over
And stay in bed today.
There's things I should be doing,
But if you'd let me choose
I'd stay beneath this duvet
And keep on pressing snooze
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2013
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Rufus Reed Poem
A ballerina's tutu,
Should be called a four,
Unless she's wearing two tutus,
And then it's even more.
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2013
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Rufus Reed Poem
The elephants were feeling down
As pachyderms oft do.
The cockatiels were quite depressed
The chimpanzees were too.
The mood among the jungle crowd
Was in short quite low,
When a young Hyena yelled,
“I’ve got guys, I know!”
We should throw a dinner Party
To stop us feeling dismal,
But please don’t ask the vultures round
Their manners are abysmal.
“Splendid!” called the warthog,
Very much excited,
“How will we let the others know
That they’ve been invited?”
“Easy!” cried a young gazelle,
Getting rather heated.
“Tell the parrot who should come,
He’ll find them and repeat it.”
“What shall we eat?” exclaimed giraffe,
“I tell you, that’s the question.
‘Cos if I have the tigers grub
Then I’ll get indigestion!”
“Who’s invited needs more thought.”
The wildebeest all said.
If we ask the lions round
They’ll eat us up instead.”
“What ssshall I wear I asssk you all?”
They heard a grass snake cry.
“The monkeysss might all fit in ssssuits,
But how on earth will I?”
“We’ll never find the table cloth.”
“And who will do the dishes?”
“We’re running short of cutlery.”
“Where will we sit the fishes?”
They argued on all through the night,
But came to no conclusion,
And in the end forgot their plans
Amidst all their confusion.
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Rufus Reed Poem
If I paint the grass bright blue
The clouds will not know what to do.
They'll mill about upon the ground
Thinking trees are upsidedown.
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Rufus Reed Poem
A little old man called Finbar McGann
Survived on a diet of spinach and spam.
Occasionally cabbage he dined on as well,
but hated the way it made his house smell.
One day when he woke, it’s hard to tell why.
He thought there are foods I really should try.
He picked up his coat and headed for town
Deciding to try every restaurant around.
He first had a pizza he gobbled quick smart
Then ordered some pasta and blueberry tart
He sampled Chinese food, then a kebab.
A rather hot curry he scoffed after that.
Although he was full he wanted to glean
Which was tastiest kind of cuisine.
There were so many foods he’d need to digest
In order to reach the end of his quest.
He gorged on fried chicken, burgers and chips
Then looked at the menu licking his lips.
The beef bourguignon he gobbled with glee
Then asked the waiter to bring him the cheese.
Although his insides were starting to hurt
Finbar decided to try some dessert.
Ice cream, meringue, chocolate gateaux.
Which was the nicest? He just had to know.
Although he enjoyed every morsel he ate
He had to admit, he was not feeling great.
He swallowed a pill to ease indigestion
Ignoring discomfort to answer his question.
Still wanting more, just one final dish
Finbar Mc Gann ordered the fish.
Cooked to perfection the cod was delightful
But Mr Mc Gann was now feeling frightful.
His stomach swelled up with an ominous gurgle
He started to sweat, his features turned purple
His tongue, now quite numb, his taste buds eroded
Finbar mc Gann gave a groan, and exploded.
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2013
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Rufus Reed Poem
Dom and Georgia caught the bus,
And boarded it without a fuss.
Although the bus was bound for school
They found the journey rather cool.
Dom leapt on and found a seat.
He opened up a pack of sweets
And turning on his MP3
Yelled “Frasier, come and sit with me!”
Georgia, being more sedate
Settled down by her best mate
And chatted as the bus drove on,
Of last night’s homework and so on.
Dom and Frasier, being boys,
Were now creating quite noise.
And as the journey seemed quite slow,
They looked around for stuff to throw.
Tutting, Georgia shook her head
Wishing she was still in bed.
She wondered should she tell her mother
All about her naughty brother.
“Lob this at Tom!” and Frasier brandished
What looked like half a moldy sandwich.
I bet you a strawberry lace
That you can’t land it on his face.
“I’ll take that bet mate!” Dom said grinning
(Through the air the bread went spinning).
“I bet you a further fiver
You’ll never throw it at the driver!”
From the back there came a shout,
As Andy gave Marie a clout.
Responding to a double dare
Jack put gum in Mary’s hair.
While tony tried to count his feet
Alice pushed him from his seat,
And as she didn’t like his look
She also ate his science book.
The driver pulled the handbrake on
And shouted to the boisterous throng
“We’re here you lot, leave me alone!
I’ll see you on the way back home.”
Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Rufus Reed Poem
LITTLE MONSTER
Toby was the kind of boy
Who’d try to break your favorite toy.
He’d flush your hamster down the loo
And tell your mother it was you.
He’d pinch your arm and kick your shin
And swear that’s what you did to him.
The kind of lad who on the double,
Gets you in all sorts of trouble.
One night as Toby lay in bed
He heard a noise and raised his head.
He was certain he could hear
A growl that sounded rather near.
“A burglar!” Toby told himself
“Come to steal my worldly wealth!”
He didn’t want to lose his stuff
So thinking he’d be brave and tough
He crossed the room and grabbed his sword
(That plastic one he stole from Claude).
He tried to find his meanest voice
And shouted, “Thief you have no choice.
Get out now, but leave your bag.
I will have your sack of swag.
I bet there’s stuff in there I’d like,
Tell me, did you steal a bike?”
A rustle came from quite near by
Closely followed by a sigh
And from beneath the bed there came
A monster looking quite ashamed.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you
It isn’t what I meant to do.
I’ve lived beneath your bed for years
‘Til you discovered I was here.”
“This is great!” the boy exclaimed.
“A beastie to be mashed and maimed.
If I slay you I’ll look fantastic,
Prepare, foul thing, to taste my plastic.”
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This was just too long to submit as one poem I'm afraid so check out The Little Monster Part 2.
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Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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