Kiddy Poems | Examples

Musk is a Farley's Rusk

Demagogue not pedagogue

Aghast & agog

Perfidious insidious fog

Reeks of the past

Slog through the smog

Musk seeks to flog

Earth & its serfs

Downed & drowned

In his dystopian bog

Even starry nights

Elon’s neon satellites

Seedier media perch

Utter nutter besmirch

Thriving in the gutter

Conniving depriving church

Vex "X" & Tech T-Rex hex

Or next bogus Rogan

Bogan slogans prevails

Alpha male tales derails

Sod the planet’s scars

Cruise trips to Mars

Odd bod driverless cars

Spawn a fake Tarantino 

Remake.."Musk till Dawn"

Devil may care lair..

Loads of lies..skies chock a block 

With spies...all eyes on the prize

Everyone Everything Everywhere dies

Let's not parley with gnarly snarly

Musk...takes the mickey & the bicky

In the dock for running amok

Time guys he did finally own up

To being as grown up..

As a Farley’s Rusk (a British biscuit/bicky for a wee kiddy)

Counterintuitive

It's late, lo. I knew that the water I saw was mirage.
This is a world where, often, facts and fancies camouflage
Depths that seem unfathomable are shallow when measured.
Within wombs of tombs that seem empty, riches are treasured.

The structure that looked like a passage was, in truth, a wall.
Doesn’t my crammed glance make the earth resemble a ball?
How could crows dine guavas at night? Lo, they were mega-bats.
Waiting under guava trees, I didn't know, were black cats.

Peeping through the brick holes of Kutab Minar, I feel giddy.
While I could reach the top, are the stairs now playing kiddy?
Each move of being is filled with likes, dislikes, dreads, and fears.
Equally in joys and sadness, as though raindrops flow tears

Running shoes, highway lanes, sleepless sleep, and suppressing thoughts
Each act, as though steering sailboats, becomes threads full of knots.
Is this shop I find between this and this bush mere confusion?
Aren't facts of truth tested in hot furnaces of illusion?

If You Are Going To Arrest Me

If you are going to arrest me please put me in kiddy jail.
I will sing songs about frogs, chameleons, two toads and a snail.
I will make up marches, and we will all sing and dance.
We will have a great time, laughing at the tower in France.

If you are going to arrest me please give me some food.
Let me take extra for the others, so we are all in a great mood.
I will do my best to get the others to not riot or worse.
If I have to go right away, can you please take my purse?

The Doggone Homeless Kitten Got Me

i light a candle tonight
i make cinnamon roll oatmeal
the only company that i have is a homeless kitten
i give her some milk 
we enjoy the quiet of the aging night
we both need the calm and the slowdown
i pet the homeless kitten
it begins to purr like a child in perfect comfort
i think about today's world and am glad to be quarantined for a bit
we are unplugged with plugs, so i unplug everything
the homeless kitten lets out a few kiddy meows
i laugh at her attempts at expressionism
tonight we hide from the world
tomorrow we do more of the same
the day after that it's back to it
the homeless kitten stays though....until my friend comes to take her
i will light another candle the next night
i will make honey battered chicken tenders with ranch dressing
the only company that i will have is a homeless kitten
i give her some canned tuna
we enjoy the quiet of our last night together

Harry the Heathen Haddock

[A couple… ONLY TWO?… of you have wondered about my recent absence from Soup. I’m on a personal challenge to write 52 poems for kiddies… maybe, only maybe, to put a booklet together. My mind doesn’t naturally do ‘kiddy think’ so it’s stretching me a bit.

This little ode, I felt was too grown up for kiddies, but I rather like it so I thought I’d share it with you lot ;-)   ]




Harry the haddock swam proud in the sea
He said there is no fish that looks down on me
I told him of one and he looked at me odd
And said I’m not sure that there’s really a Cod

Kiddy Lip

Inherit a world we didn't create, 
discover the knowledge those before aint, 
teaching kids that what we had absent, 
they are the first to say don't wait, 
demanding adults change their ways, 
blame our generation, outspoken, complain,  
disrespecting your elders  through climate change, 
our generation who was not taught,
our generation who found and put forth, 
our generation who didn't ignore, 
our generation who put knowledge in schools, 
our generation the youth blame and force, 
disrespect us  like no generation before 
you'll be in danger  we will enforce 
kids with voices entitled to talk, 
telling us knowledge as if we are fools, 
as if they know better, as if they know more, 
my generation made this world, kids it aint yours, 
you know ,because we know ,and we were not taught,

Bald Head Carla-

Baldhead Carla

Once lovely full grown woman Carla
Went to a gender barber, she was only 4'4"
She was placed in the kiddy chair
the barber thought she was a boy and cut her hair

11/4/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©

On a Ghostly Night

on a ghostly night

princesses and "kiddy" cats -

alongside monsters -

scamper without a care

beneath a Halloween moon


Sept. 25, 2019
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's Halloween Moon Poetry Contest

August Snow

All night sweating under a skin-wet sheet. 
Fevered fantasies of skinny dipping
in a kiddy paddling pool,
toes as sticky as denture gum.

it’s broiling August.
Cold showers frazil 
with soapy earth-baked splashes.

There’s a place to go
where they sell snow -
it’s a drug store, where they deal
in root beer floats, numb-numbs;
an ice-cream brain freeze. It helps.

Of course, in steamy September
when the sweat on your nose
flows upward
into parched eyes
 
a chilled Lime Phosphate
is the only cure.

Minnesota 5 22 19

field of dandelions,
   my delirium dance
      heading down the highway.

         drive by flag and fountain,
    and trees wrap ‘round the lake
next to a kiddy park.

swamp grass,
   the color of wheat
      and auburn -
         flickers of felicity.

         and the backyard landscape
      where i keep my grandsons
   a spectacle of blooming colors -
cherry and lemon tulips, lavender and poppies.

crèpe myrtles with crooked trunks, skinny legs
   lovely with inflorescent flowers
      pastel pinks, peeking
         through the sliding glass door.

         Minnesota welcomes
      me with serenity -
    a serendipity
 of nature’s refection.

5/22/2019

Refection - refreshment of mind, body and spirit

Naomi's Mom and Dad

When mom, Naomi, was your mom not quite,
she was a barista at the Starbucks
just blocks away from where your thunderstruck
dad used to curse the name whose will to write
mistreated sonnets never metered right. 
In those days, my daughter, a word like schmuck
would suit your father, quite determined luck,
not talent lacked, should bear the blame for shame
that came from lameness littered kiddy rhyme.
But, with each finished turd, your dad (undeterred)
would march to Starbucks like he’d made a name,
and talk to mom, who taught me, overtime,
love and beauty’s praise are sonnets’ preferred.

On the Inside

I’m screaming
On the inside
Panicked
Holding my breath
On this kiddy mousey ride

Entertaining my unwillingness
To be
In the eyes of many
Other than dull
Still as stone
And Living in my own head

I’m on this speedy roofless train 
Dying silently
My legs 
Barely reaching the floor
My corpse
Sliding
My neck near touching my steel cylinder seatbelt 
My toes pressed to the floor
My hands gripped tight
I will get tossed off
And not live 
To regret my decision 


By Marckincia Jean

Perfect Poetry

follow these guidelines
to make your poetry
really truly shine
      make sure you don't rhyme
      you're not in a nursery
      this isn't kiddy story time
always restrict yourself
you don't want your poem in
a forgotten book on a shelf
       oh, stay far far away
       from this next poetry sin
       the abominable sin of cliche
you can't write for you
you must only write for me
never ever forget to
       obey these stone set rules
       to write perfect poetry
       you can only use my tools! 

(Author's note: Forget the so called rules. Write what you love how you love to write it! Happy writing, my friends).

To My New Grands and Great Grands, Et Al

To Winkin’
Blinkin’
and of course nod.
In terms of 
symmetry
prose and 
shish kabob. 
The tricks and twirls 
and polar light;
the flip and flare and star
of kiddy sleepless night
can rip and roar
and rankle up
a juicy fight,
in the twinkle of an eye.
Forget wit and woe
and places to and fro and
things obscure in fuzzy
wuzzy lights to
swing and sway in 
wrinkled tights
or sit boldly still
daring you to
a contest of will
hanging in a drop 
of drool falling from 
yon wounded whipporwill.
Will he will or will he won’t, or 	
do the thing we don’t?
I see again in terms 
of symmetry you see.
But mostly for the rhyme
I hear inside the room 
just made for me
in terms of speech and 
in the song of my
sweet cooing babe.

 © 9/17/2016
Charles G. Henderson

Wearisome Thuds and Music Thru the Wall

Wearisome Thuds and Music Thru the Wall

Brown, red, cinder walls, sounds from down the halls
Walls so thin the sounds echo off the walls

Woken by someone knocking on my door
Hush! Listen!  It’s the stranger from next door

I fret and sweat, I'm so very upset
Will he complain about my lazy pet?


Slowly, lock my door, not making a sound
Quiet snort and very slow turnaround

A peep hole look beyond the door he calls
With shawl over my shoulders, my pet crawls


A  hiding place kiddy and I to pray
Good night I say that he will stay away

5/13/2016   Revised

Who's Your Neighbor

Brown, red, cinder walls
Sounds from down the halls

Someone knocking on my door
It’s the stranger from next door

I fret and sweat, I'm so upset
Wonder if he likes lazy pets

A peep hole look was a let down
Beer belly, short, dressed like a clown 

Quiet snort and a turnaround
Lock my door not making a sound

9/8/2015

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