I love the way you look at me,
The sharpness of your gaze.
The way I hold you my arms,
You keep me in a haze.
I love the scent you bring with you, when you come into my home.
You bring me so much happiness,
I can’t leave you alone.
You pale them in comparison,
The rest cannot do better.
You are my favorite in the world,
I love you so much, Cheddar.

"Grandparent Rap"

It's Grandparents' Day and we're here to say,
"We love our Grandparents in a major way."

So sit right down and take a seat,
And we'll put on a show that can't be beat!

Some Grandparents are skinny. Some eat a lot.
Some are funny. Some are not.

Some short, some tall, some big, some small.
It doesn't matter. We love them all.

"Slicing Salami"

The strangest, strange stranger I met in my life
was the man who made use of his nose like a knife.
He’d slice up salami, tomatoes, and cheese
at the tip of his nose with phenomenal ease.
He’d buy food in bulk at incredible prices
and then use his nose to reduce it to slices.
His wife ran away and I know that he’ll miss her.
The woman was frightened that one day he’d kiss her!

– Denise Rodgers

I endured burnt offerings at the table -
A meal ‘cooked’ by my mother in law
If I hadn’t been married her lovely son
I’d have walked straight out of the door!

I heaved at every charred mouthful
Smiled, and said the meal was ‘divine’
She told me she’d had cookery lessons
But her food was only fit to feed swine!

Is my poem just a fairy story
Or is it a clever allegory?

(Laura Loo)

Expand your mind. Get
To work. Better yet, put your
Feet up. Watch TV.

"I Love to Hate You"

Just one look at you
Tempting me, teasing me, tormenting me
I hate the feelings you evoke
Greed
Desire
Lust
Just want to hold you, devour you
I don’t want to see you go
But I can never resist the last chocolate in the box!

— Jan Allison

It’s your birthday, there is no cure,
Cakes and candles, you must endure,
Quick and painless, let me assure,
A tiny chance, you will be mature,
With this crowd, usually secure,
Random fun, with results obscure,
Liquids we drink, definitely pure,
Goofy friends, minds we tour,
Hilarious birthday, that’s for sure.

(Martin Dejnicki)

Bagels and baguettes
Bap or fried bake,
The fruits of the flour
are easy to make

Chollah, chapatti,
Cinnamon bun.
These global delights,
make eating such fun.

Filled with Caribbean sweet meat
like Guava jam,
Scottish smoked salmon;
Or Danish roast ham.

Add a fresh fruit salad,
Some sparkling wine,
A candle, red roses and
you’re ready to dine.

(Joanna Davis)

here was a dog owner named Mark
Whose beagle would constantly bark
The neighbours would moan
They’d steal Benji’s bone
And toss it away in the park.

There once was a vicar at Kew
Who kept his pet cat in a pew.
He taught it to speak
alphabetical Greek,
but it never got farther than µ.

There was an Old Man of Nepaul,
From his horse had a terrible fall;
But, though split quite in two,
By some very strong glue,
They mended that Man of Nepaul.

Roses are blue
And violets are red,
Please reverse,
What I just said.

I knew this gambler.
He bet it all on a bluff.
He is now homeless.

Musta woke with feelings of dread;
I bet that he thought he was dead.
Upon its unmasking,
The question I’m asking:
’Twas the ghost of white or wheat bread?

- by Jeff Kyser

Your love is so crisp
As wafer in the pack
You know your love is
My favourite snack
Oh, Please I was just kidding
Now, you don’t need to smack.

(Unknown)

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
God made me pretty.
What happened to you?

Twinkle twinkle little star,
Point me to the nearest bar.

There was an Old Person of Dean,
Who dined on one pea and one bean;
For he said,
"More than that would make me too fat,"
That cautious Old Person of Dean.

There was a young person called Smarty,
Who sent out his cards for a party.
So exclusive and few,
Were the friends that he knew,
That no one was present but Smarty.

Roses are red
that much is true.
But violets are purple
not freaking blue.

There was an old lady from Ghent,
who slept on a bed of cement.
Her bed was well used,
and her body well bruised,
and the back of her head had a dent.

"I Know You Like Me Best"

Daddy, I know your secret,
That you've tried to keep suppressed,
I promise I won't tell anyone,
But I know you like me best!

A funny old bird is a pelican.
His beak can hold more than his belican.
Food for a week
He can hold in his beak,
But I don’t know how the helican.

(Dixon Lanier Merritt)

"The Vulture"

The Vulture eats between his meals,
And that’s the reason why
He very, very, rarely feels
As well as you and I.

His eye is dull, his head is bald,
His neck is growing thinner.
Oh! what a lesson for us all
To only eat at dinner!

– Hilaire Belloc

There was an Old Person of Leeds,
Whose head was infested with beads;
She sat on a stool,
And ate gooseberry fool,
Which agreed with that person of Leeds.

An elephant slept in his bunk,
And in slumber his chest rose and sunk.
But he snored -- how he snored!
All the other beasts roared,
So his wife tied a knot in his trunk.

"Bed in Summer"

In Winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle light.
In Summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

– Robert Louis Stevenson

Starts off in the morning, wakes up at six,
Grooms itself using its tongue and licks.
I give it breakfast with a friendly pat.
That's the daily morning of my cat.

Returns for lunch at one o' clock.
Eats milk rice and then goes for a walk.
Sometimes even hunts and catches a rat.
That's the daily afternoon of my cat.

Naps after lunch outside my door.
Sleeps so deeply, perhaps even snores.
Doesn't like the ground; it prefers a mat.
That's the daily evening of my cat.

Wakes up refreshed and comes for dinner.
Does it eat too much? Shouldn't it be thinner?
Eats and sleeps - hope it doesn't get fat.
That's the daily night of my cat.

(M. Tarun Prasad)

Limericks I cannot compose,
With noxious smells in my nose.
But this one was easy,
I only felt queasy,
Because I was sniffing my toes.

There was a Young Lady of Russia,
Who screamed so that no one could hush her;
Her screams were extreme,--
No one heard such a scream
As was screamed by that Lady from Russia.

Roses are red, violets are blue.
I have Alzheimer’s Disease, Cheese on toast.

How to spell the potato has tried
Many minds, sometimes mine, I’ll confide.
Though it may have an eye,
There’s no E – don’t ask why!
Not until it’s been baked, boiled or fried.

"99 Dogs"

I saw two people heading off for a walk
with 99 dogs in a pack.
So, I asked them why they had so many dogs,
and they thought for a while and said back,
“We’ve tried having different numbers of dogs:
from a lot to hardly any.
The lesson we’ve learned is 98’s not enough
but 100 dogs is too many.”

There’s been a murder, a woman was killed,
found in a bathtub, partially filled.
A pair of policemen went into the house
and questioned the poor woman’s spouse.
He’d just come home from working all night
and found her like that, a terrible sight.
The younger policeman looked on with dismay.
He’d never forget that terrible day.
He saw the young woman from behind the door
and empty milk cartons all over the floor,
Scattered strawberries, slices of fruit,
and spoonfuls of sugar and honey to boot.
”Who could have done this terrible thing?”
His voice had a horrified, pitiful ring.
”Just look at the clues,” replied Sargeant Miller.
”It looks like the work of a cereal killer.” (Albert Van Hoogmoed)

I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.

(Gelett Burgess)

"I’m Nobody! Who are you?"

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

– Emily Dickinson

Lots of people have a rug.
Very few have a Pug.

(E.B White)

Ask for opinions.
Mull it over. Then you can.
Just do what you want.

"Halfway Down"

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn’t any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I’m not at the bottom,
I’m not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And it isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn’t really
Anywhere!
It’s somewhere else
Instead!

– A. A. Milne

Sister Mary the New York nun
Came to visit one time just for fun
Mom discovered too late
She’d made a mistake
And sauced my great aunt with some rum.

There was an Old Person of Buda,
Whose conduct grew ruder and ruder;
Till at last, with a hammer,
They silenced his clamour,
By smashing that Person of Buda.

There was a young fellow named Weir,
Who hadn't an inch of fear.
He indulged a desire,
To touch a live wire,
And he celebrated by drinking beer.

There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who watched his wife making a stew;
But once by mistake,
In a stove she did bake,
That unfortunate Man of Peru.

Those little darlings
With their angelic eyes
Look harmless enough
But beneath their disguise

They’re nothing but thugs
With pure evil intent
These spawn of Satan
Are not heaven sent

These foul blackguards
Going about their sport
They say “Trick or treat”
As they happily extort

They squirt fake blood
On my front door
They egg my new car
I can’t take any more

I sit counting the minutes
Am I the only one?
Who just can’t wait
Till Halloween is done.
- Paul Curtis

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Please keep your flowers,
And your poems too.

There was a young schoolboy of Rye,
Who was baked by mistake in a pie.
To his mother’s disgust,
He emerged through the crust,
And exclaimed, with a yawn, Where am I?

There once was a girl called Jane,
who thought she had a really big brain.
She thought she was cool,
standing in a puddle of drool,
but really she was just insane.

Roses are red
Violets are blue,
Coffee is bitter
And so are you.

I love you I love you
I do
I’ll play the kazoo
I may not be good
It may be too loud
I love you I love you
I’ll dance a jig
I may miss a step
or fall on my pig
I love you I love you
I do
even if this poem isn’t cool

A painter who lived in Great Britain,
Interrupted two girls with their knitting,
He said, with a sigh,
That park bench--well I,
Just painted it, right where you're sitting.