I met her in chat, she was neat,
her photo was pretty, petite.
we met for a meal,
I saw her for real,
I screamed and then ran down the street!

There was an Old Man of Kamschatka,
Who possessed a remarkable fat cur;
His gait and his waddle
Were held as a model
To all the fat dogs in Kamschatka.

An oyster from Kalamazoo
Confessed he was feeling quite blue.
For he said, "As a rule,
When the weather turns cool,
I invariably get in a stew."

A tutor who taught on the flute,
tried to teach two young tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
"Is it harder to toot or,
to tutor two tooters to toot?"

"My Dog"

My family got a new dog.
Its fur is short and white.
I absolutely love him,
but something is not right.

His ears are soft and long
and flop along the side.
His tail is quite short
But also very wide.

He’s positively quiet.
He never makes a sound.
He’s got a real cute jump
when I put him on the ground.

I’m sure when he grows up.
He’ll be massively strong.
His favorite food’s carrots
He eats them all day long!

– Steve Hanson

Taking a romantic ride today,
We sat upon the wagon.
Suddenly the horse lifted his tail
And we heard a roaring dragon!

The deafening sound hurt my ears
And the smell burned the hairs in my nose.
My girlfriend sat and glared at me.
Somehow my fault I suppose.

It was my idea to take the ride,
But how was I to know?
It really wasn't in my plans;
Didn't know the horse would blow.

The noise and the smell were bad enough,
As the wind blew quickly by.
But I think the very worst of it,
Was the brown stuff in my eye.

My girlfriend's face turned angry red.
So I figured I wouldn't dare,
Advise her of the smelly pieces
Of horse stuff in her hair.

The horse finally stopped; my girl ran away,
Stubbornly lifting her chin.
I think that horse was enjoying himself,
Cause I'm sure I saw him grin.

A lesson learned for me today.
Although I must confess,
I laughed so hard I nearly cried
As I wiped away the mess.

(by Annabel Sheila)

There was a young lady of Cork,
Whose Pa made a fortune in pork.
He bought for his daughter,
A tutor who taught her,
To balance green peas on her fork.

Help, me I am trapped
In a haiku factory
save me, before they

The prowling youth
With fangs and cape
From trick or treat
There's no escape

Unless you make
Your own trick treats
And hand out bags
Of Ex-lax sweets.

- Patrick Winstanley

My ambition, said old Mr. King,
Is to live as a bird on the wing.
Then he climbed up a steeple,
Which scared all the people,
So they caged him and taught him to sing.

There was a Young Lady of Poole,
Whose soup was excessively cool;
So she put it to boil
By the aid of some oil,
That ingenious Young Lady of Poole.

An elderly man called Keith.
Mislaid his set of false teeth.
They'd been laid on a chair.
He'd forgot they were there.
Sat down, and was bitten beneath.

My cow gives less milk,
now that it has been eaten,
by a fierce dragon.

Roses are red,
I’m going to bed.

Haikus are easy.
But sometimes they don't make sense.
University.

"Whenever I See"

Whenever I see your eyes
There is something that I feel
You look so sleepy
As a bear after a meal.

There was a knock at my door as I paced the hall floor, and I knew, without looking, who I'd meet,
There'd be goblins and witches and zombies with stitches, and they'd joyfully cry out, Trick or Treat!
They'd expect sugar candy and plums soaked in brandy, and cake that I'd pull from my stash,
Peanuts and sweeties and pumpkin-shaped wheaties, plus a ready supply of hard cash.

And like a Biblical flood, they'd be dripping in blood, and they'd tramp it all into my rug,
And it's safe to surmise, that their Halloween guise, will have run up some change for some mug.
So I yell through my 'box, be gone, you're a pox, I have not got sweets for to give,
But they said, listen, you git, we don't give a shit, get some in if you'd like for to live.

But I didn't feel threatened by these juvenile cretins, and I told them, be off, bug the next street,
But they whispered, no dice, now are you going to play nice, and cough-up our Halloween treat?
I said, enough is enough, I was in a real h

A newspaper man named Fling,
Could make "copy" from any old thing.
But the copy he wrote,
Of a five dollar note,
Was so good he is now wears so much bling.

"The Centipede"

I'm glad I'm not a real boy
With proper feet like you.
Imagine if I had to put
A foot in every shoe.
For when I'd got each foot inside
And every lace tied tight,
I'd have to take them off again
To go to bed at night.

– May Fenn

Tinkle, Tinkle little car
How I wonder what you are.
Leaking oil every day
Having it your own way.
Going up hills real slow
I don’t want you any mo’.
Tinkle, Tinkle little car
Boy, what a lemon you are.
(Cecilia L. Goodbody)

If a person would have several friends,
here's the thing upon which it depends;
are you willing to share
when there isn't much there
and burn up your day from both ends.

(By Steve Mckee)

"Granddad's Got Hair"

Granddad's got hair on his fingers,
Hair on his toes,
Hair in his ears,
Hair up his nose.
His chest has got more hair than a coarse front door mat.
His back has got more hair than next door's tom cat.

Granddad's head is silky and smooth,
Not a solitary bristle.
Smooth as a baby's bum,
Clean as a whistle.
Some say a snooker ball has got more hair,
But his beard hides a smile that says, "I just don't care."

– Graham Craven

Wooden door; wide and creaky.
Sculking cat; snide and sneaky.
Skeletons; cold and clanky.
Madame Witch; old and cranky.
Ancient paintings; strange and spooky.
Watching eyes; crazed and looky.
Blackest bat; fast and flappy.
Venus Flytrap; mighty snappy.
Wailing ghosts; always moany.
Piano playing on its owny.
Time to go! Scream and shouty!
Read the sign – ‘No Way Out-y!’

- Julie Anna Douglas

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)

I've done it -- I've done mown the lawn,
But my muscles are aching and torn.
I could swear there are some,
In my legs and my bum,
I've not used since the year I was born.

There once was a colour named orange,

...Damnit.

You may not sew and you may not crochet,
You may not bake macaroons every day,
You may not buy tickets to a grand ballet,
Or be like the grandma of yesterday.

You may not answer with a vague, "Yes, dear,"
You may not have trouble in one ear.
You may not always have your knitting near,
Or overflow with constant cheer

You may not have scalloped, scented soap
Or fuzzy toilet seat covers (I hope)
With embroidery needles, you cannot cope.
Big hair? Wig hair? Nada and nope.

But I love you without the stereotype.
I've been thinking we should connect on Skype.
You're my bud, Grandma, and I'd really like it
If I could take your path and be able to hike it.

I look at what you do each day
And I see each one is your birthday.
You live anew in all you do.
I wanna be like you!

There was an Old Man of th' Abruzzi,
So blind that he couldn't his foot see;
When they said, 'That's your toe,'
He replied, 'Is it so?'
That doubtful Old Man of th' Abruzzi.

Two frogs fell into a bucket of cream
And must paddle to keep afloat;
But one soon tired and sank to rest
With a gurgling sigh in his throat.
The other paddled away all night,
And not a croak did he utter,
And with the coming of morning light
He rode on an island of butter.
The flies came thick to his island home
And made him a breakfast snappy.
The milkmaid shrieked and upset the pail,
And froggy hopped away happy.
We can all find a moral in this rhyme,
And should hasten at once to apply:
Success will come in the most difficult time
If we paddle and never say die!

Sometimes we eat when we’re hungry
Or else when we’re just in the mood,
But everyone’s habits are different
In how we relate to our food.

There are 3 meals-a-day folk as well as
The ones who skip breakfast or lunch
And grazers who nibble for most of the day
Or snackers who in-between munch.

There are people with junk food addictions
And those who shun pork, beef or fish,
While the gluten or carb-free among us
Pay attention to what’s in each dish.

As for sweets, that’s a whole other story –
When you think about ice cream or pie
Or the various candies and chocolates
Without which some could never get by.

Just consider your own way of eating
With the foods you enjoy or you sneak
And you’ll realize, if you broach the subject,
That our diets are all most unique!

(Ilene Bauer)

There once was a hunter named Frawley
Who lived in a shack, outside Raleigh.
His dog, funny but true,
Would only hunt honeydew.
The dog was a true melon collie.

(William Robinson)

Row row row your boat.
Rowing gently down the stream.
Life is so extreme.

My breakfast today,
bacon, eggs, and ice water.
I feel so healthy.

There was an Old Man of the East,
Who gave all his children a feast;
But they all ate so much
And their conduct was such
That it killed that Old Man of the East.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
He’s in love with me,
And not exactly for you.
And if you take my place,
I’ll take my plate and smash your face.

(Unknown)

Once I visited France,
And learned a new, awesome dance.
I twirled,
And I swirled,
And then I lost my pants.

I remember when I was small and cool,
I was always playing truant from school.
My mum used to say,
"You'll regret it one day
When you grow up to become a fool."

Now I'm old; the damage is done.
How I wish I'd listened to Mum.
If I could turn back time,
I'd study hard and toe the line
Instead of acting foolish and dumb.

Now let that be a lesson to one and all
That life is more than just having a ball.
It was great having fun
When I was young,
But I wish I'd spent more time in the school hall.

(By John P. Read )

"My Shadow"

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
The funniest things about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.
He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

– Robert Louis Stevenson

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Brown is the color
Of elephant poo.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Your phone is smart,
So why aren’t you?

"The Story Of Nibbly McNibbleson"

Nibbly McNibbleson was the dog nibbling queen.
She’d nibble everything when she couldn’t be seen.

She nibbled her legs, and she nibbled her paws.
She nibbled so much; her poor body was raw.
Then, she nibbled her blanket the whole of the day,
to the point where she’d nibbled the blanket away.

One day, she tired of nibbling her bed,
and decided she’d try doing licking instead.

So, she licked all the mirrors, the tables, and chairs.
Then, she licked all the rugs and the carpeted stairs.
Her licking won a place in the dog Hall of Fame,
and so Licky McLickerson became her new name.

There once was a young boy named Nick,
Who by chance was always being kicked.
He tried not to fight,
For he was smart, kind and bright,
So he learned how to run really quick.

Happy birthday twinkle toes
Your actual age no one knows
Your inner child is firmly out
Loving life not going without
And now another whole year older
Your bucket list is getting smaller
But everything that you have ticked
Is the same on my child’s wish list.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
You’re a pyscho,
But I still love you.

There was a Young Lady of Dorking,
Who bought a large bonnet for walking;
But its colour and size,
So bedazzled her eyes,
That she very soon went back to Dorking.

A Poem by a Cat

I lick your nose
I lick your nose again
I drag my claws down your eyelids
Oh, you're up? Feed me.

Girl sat on a swing.
Trying to sing a song for god.
Missing him, not me.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Birthdays suck,
If they're not for you.

Happy birthday!

(Kevin Nishmas)

I gaze at you in awe,
Your beauty leaves me speechless,
I long for your touch,
And I yearn for your kiss.
I can wait no longer,
I can’t leave my heart on the shelf,
Oh whoops, I’m sorry,
I forgot to introduce myself!

I know an old owl named Boo,
Every night he yelled Hoo,
Once a kid walked by,
And started to cry,
And yelled I don't have a clue!