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).

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Zombies Came to Class Today

Zombies came to class today
To find some brains to eat.
They gathered round our teacher
For a tasty brainy treat.

They smacked their lips and zombie-drooled
And clutched his clever  head,
But sniffed his ears and licked his skull,
And came for us instead.

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Zombie Land

Early in the morning 
When the sun's a zombie gray.
I wear my zombie costume
And start my zombie day.

I follow other zombie-kids
Who drag their zombie feet,
And zombie-walk along the road
To where the zombies meet.

There may be other living kids 
Within the zombie hordes,
But they're too scared to show themselves 
Before our zombie lords.

I stick my body stiff and bent 
Upon my zombie chair
And freeze my eyeballs forward
In a zombie-stricken stare.

And when the slouching zombie-kids
Undroop or lurch around,
I raise my hand and zombie-groan,
Then sit without a sound.

I sit and dream of summer days
Beneath a swelling sun.
I dream that I am free to play
In fellowship and fun.

But here I fear I'll lose my brain
Within this zombie hell.
Oh please, before I go insane,
Please ring the recess bell!


You're hugry? What's hugry?
You're HUNGRY, I say!
Why must you insist
That you're hugry today?

For child, I'm afraid
That isn't a word.
You're missing an N;
Your word is absurd!

Stop this at once!
Let go of me, please!
Stop this embracing
And loosen this squeeze!

A hug is not food!
A hug cannot feed,
And hugging is not
An imperative need!

And still you persist
And beam as you do,
While closing your eyes
And squeezing me blue.

Well, this I'll admit:
That hugging is nice,
And living without it
Just wouldn't suffice.

But I'd go a month,
For certain a week,
A day is no problem
If hugless and bleak.

And now you have finished,
Released me at last,
Finally left your
Embracing repast.

That's good!...yet not quite...
This just won't do!
For now it would seem
That I'm hugry too.