Wits, Whims, and Wicked Kids Poetry for Children: Grown-ups Are Stupid

From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Friday 27 May 2011

A, B, A, B, R1, back.

That’s my favourite fist attack.

R1, B, B, rotate stick—

My spinal-crushing Dragon Kick.

I’m super-sonic mega fast

And cyber-strong with Atom Blast.

I know every trick and cheat;

Ain’t no baddie I can’t beat.

Ok, Uncle, you can try.

Just do your best; try not to die.

First you’ll need the Quasar Gun,

Then hit that pad for Alpha-Run.

Double-jump, then do a flip,

Find the secret hyper-ship.

That’s a hidden a portal there.

Can’t you see the cosmic tear?

That’s enough; you’ve had your turn.

Sometimes I think you’ll never learn.

You curse and sweat and thrash about,

You clumsy, awkward stupid lout!

Your hands are big, your fingers slow;

There’s just too much you’ll never know.

You think you’re big, you think you’re strong?

Don’t make me laugh; go play some Pong!

Wits, Whims, and Wicked Kids Poetry for Children