SILLY POEMS - Poetry - http://maxpages.com/nichola/SILLY

MJODIE-LEE

I really hate my sister,
She bugs me all day long.
Always messing with my things,
When mum comes in she's gone.
I remember this one time,
She was playing in my room,
She threw a ball and hit a vase,
And dash from the room
With a zooooooommm!!!!!!!!
I got blamed her of coarse,
But I wasn't me.
I was sat down stairs
Quietly watching TV.
Of coarse I had to kill her,
I chased her round and round.
And when I caught the little rat,
I knocked her to the ground.
And of coarse she started crying,
And mum got mad at me,
I really hate my sister, My sister Jodie-Lee

Nichola Firth

MY SHOES

I bought a pair of shoes,
I knew they would make me run fast.
But I got to singing the blues,
Because I tripped and now I am wearing a cast.
My shoes never got broke in good,
They still look brand new white with a strip that is pink.
I really don’t mind because they were ugly anyway.
I am only sorry I did not get to make them stink.

Alan Hart

A Practice So Confusing

Crammed into a woman's purse
Are objects strange and varied
All the things she claims to need
That with her must be carried
Styled like a small suitcase
She handles it with pride
But every item placed therein
When needed seems to hide
Peek inside and you will find
Among the clutter there
A myriad of beauty aids
And things to fix her hair
Medications, some loose change
And credit cards galore
An army knife, two rings of keys
And a hundred items more
So why do women have the need
To carry all this stuff
Surely there is such a time
When enough becomes enough
This mystery bag of awkward size
We men do find amusing
But we will never understand
This practice so confusing

Chuck Pool
CPool71148@aol.com

A SLOB CALLED BOB

There was a boy called Bob,
He was a big fat slob.
He had a pizza for his dinner,
And for his breakfast and his supper.
He brushed his teeth with chocolate paste,
Not a grain of sugar goes to waste.
In his house a vegatable can not be seen,
Not an apple or a carrot or a runner bean.
That is why he is so big,
And he is nicknamed “The Pig”

Nichola Firth
10.6.98

Hook a duck.

in the heat of the night
i lie awake, burning
the sweat running
down my red face

i stare into the black
theat now consumes me
No more can i see ahead
i've reached the final gate

now is here, ready
to take me with it
to step through the gate
to enter a new time

i take a final look
at my path through life
and how i never achieved
my goal, my aim, - my love

i laugh in my face
at how little i've become
with my wisdom and knowledge
i step through with time

it guides me now
holding my hand, like a child
i walk with time, to a new
a place with new wonders

i am full of doubt, and
puzzlement, of my new home
where will it through me
where will it leave to rest

i want to what i don't
but still no one tells me
my frustration grows
and impatience to know

but is this the way to be?
as time walks with me
am i supposed to grow to hate
and become a ball of fury, - maybe so

do i have to question time?
in its struggle to drag me
down its endless path
- i'm puzzled

questions and thoughts rush past me
i can hardly see them all
but is this the way to be
a lucky dip in life

as many thoughts pass me by
do i stick out my hook?
and grab one of the paths?
or do i sit here bewildered

i've paid to play the game
to try my luck here
on the "huck a duck" stall
- only it's not key fobs i'm playing for

"step right up sir"
"only your life to play, that's all"
"grab a duck, win a prize"
"everyone's a winner here today"

i leave the stall to wonder
i look around for a while
another stall confronts me
- the house of mirrors

i enter this harmless tent
and wonder through
i dare not look at my reflection
but walk through, buying time

i stop at one mirror
yet see nothing in it
i notice writing above all the mirrors
i look up at this one

with fear and dread with me now
looking back at some of the mirrors
the mirrors i pased by so quickly but it's too late now

in bold letters at the top
is a written sign, for me
"le fin"
- the mirror now jet black

i stare into it
nothing to show for it
- words appera in my way now,
"enter - if you dare" - so we begin again

There was an old man of Peru

There was an old man of Peru
Who dreamed he was eating a shoe.
He awoke in the night
With a terrible fright
And found it was perfectly true!!!!

Written by: Alyssa Huinker

A silly Limerick, to cheer you up.
Written by: Phonenuts@aol.com

It's called "Emotional Roller Coaster"

Are you happy, are you sad? Are you mad or are you glad?
Well then friends just step aside, and let me take you for a ride. Buckle
your seat belts and hold on to your hat, be prepared for something phat..An
emotional roller coaster ride is what you need, it soothes the heart and melts
the soul, and your brain it will feed..

If your happy, good for you, to keep it up heres some things to do: Blast your
favorite song away put it on replay and sing it all the day. Invite over a
friend or two, who knows what you might do.

If your confused, slow down and think things over write some poems on how you
feel, or go walk and think with your doggy Rover.

If your blue I've got a few tips for you: A girls or guys night out is what
you need, cause when a group of the same sex get together, WATCH OUT: HEED!!!
The mall the movies, a sleep over will do, I'm sure it will help you

I hope this corny poem help you out, it was worth a try, so put on a smile and
please dont cry.

Highschool (this is just a stupid little one i made up)

The first day of highschool!
So proud and Glee
New school, new friends, and even dating!
Summer's over and your ready to go
Back to school that is, all decked out in new fashion from head to toe
No more uniforms this year
Isn't that good to hear!
As you walk through the gate on the new year,
You think, whoa, I'm finally here
Excited to see who's in all your classes
Waving to all the people you know passes
It's only Freshman year, 4 years to go
But hey, its fun, so take it slow

Stacey

THERE WAS A KING WHO COULDN'T SING

There was a king,
Who couldn't sing.
He wanted fame,
But his singing was lame.
So he hired a singer,
To make him a winner.
To teach him the ropes,
But he couldn't cope.
So just for fun,
He went on a run.
He came first,
He was no longer the worst.

Nichola Firth

BOY WHO WANTED TO SAIL

There was a young boy who wanted to sail,
He bought boat and said he'd be home with a whale.
Baring in mine he'd never been on a boat before
He carried on regardless and said he knew the score.
He always liked fishing since he was a lad,
That was in a pond though shouted his dad.
He wanted to be a hero and make his dad proud,
But you haven't a clue his mum screamed out loud.
The boy sailed alone just him and a dog,
He'd get really lonely without the old sod.
He hung his rod out in the wildest of tides,
but not one mangy fish would nibble on his lines.
He was out there for weeks not one did he catch,
So he stopped of at Cornwall to by a big batch.
But on the way home he was tried and hungry
He couldn't buy no food as he had no more money.
He hadn't a chance of catching more food so he ate the fish
He'd bought that afternoon.
When he got home his family was glad to see him,
They through him a party and give him a new boat to fish in.
But the boy had enough he wanted no more.
He'd rather stay home and fish at sea no more.

Nichola Firth

LOOK WHAT I FOUND

Look what I found,
Something shiny and round,
Laying on the ground,
It's a shiny new golden pound,
I picked it up as no-one was around,
I then heard something loud,
And as I turned around,
I saw a big hound
Laying on the ground,
I looked and stoked the hound,
Until it calmed down.

Nichola Firth

NAME CALLING

"Hey you!, over there, with the big fat body and ginger hair"
"Shut up!, you little twit, I've seen your hair, its full of nits"
"You cheeky thing how do you dare walk around with them clothes that you wear?"
"At least my dad is big and tuff and doesn't look like a scruff"
"Well I've seen your mum the other day, and she was like my granny all old and grey"

Nichola Firth

SPIDER IN THE BATH

There's a spider in the bath,
My mum is scared, that makes me laugh.
My silly mum screams off her head.
And runs away, to hide in bed.
There's really nothing to shout about,
The spider in the bath only wants to get out.
Nichola Firth

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Page Updated Thu Oct 7, 1999 1:44am EDT