Short Quite A Little Poems

Serbia and Italy were going on a nice little walk.
Said Italy “Yugoslavia is not one to talk!”
Serbia got mad.
“Yugo is my dad!”
They ended up smacking each other, quite a little squawk....

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You should see my little pug.
He loves to play and sit on his rug.

He's quite a little guy
the apple of my eye.

He's so smart too
the things he does would amaze you.

He loves to nuzzle my neck and chin.
He is so sweet I can't help but grin.

My little pug
as snug as a bug.

Hercules (sweet and adorable)

6/04/14...

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Tabby in winter, with a tuft of snow on your head
You got slammed when they came down on that sled
If you get buried, it may be quite a little while
Before we can save you, St Bernard said with a smile

Then he noticed that there were Bernards on her scarf
How bad could she be? He told his friends with an arf.
Tabby in the snow glared at all of those happy dogs.
They ate up her chocolate kibble like untrained old hogs....

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Tabby in winter, with a tuft of snow on your head
You got slammed when they came down on that sled
If you get buried, it may be quite a little while
Before we can save you, St Bernard said with a smile

Then he noticed that there were Bernards on her scarf
How bad could she be? He told his friends with an arf.
Tabby in the snow glared at all of those happy dogs.
They ate up her chocolate kibble like untrained old hogs....

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Molly was a ghastly child, with spiders, slugs and snails, her room was always messy, with
jam sandwich breadcrumb trails,

Her hair was always knotty, and her dress was never clean, she was quite the little
horror, with her super sonic screams,

Yet Molly had a smile that could melt the hardest heart, at least until her temper came
and tantrums then would start,

In every little girl there's a Molly somewhere hiding, and behind her back with angelic
grin, a slimy snail is sliding....

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She naps in her own dish,
not something that I wish
to even think about.

She’s such a little doll;
completely in her thrall,
I watch her climbing out.

Her hair is soft as silk.
She loves her mother’s milk;
of that, there is no doubt.

From barn to sleep at night,
to meadow at first light,
she walks a well-worn route.

Exploring all around,
and leaping with a bound,
she’s quite the little scout.

I’d rather eat an eel,
than have her as a meal;
I’d sure feel like a lout....

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