The ghost who stole my Vegemite
Have you heard of the ghost
who stole my Vegemite toast?
A disgusting event —
more disgusting than most!
I’d spread it on thickly —
’twas the way I liked it —
but the ghost just took it,
and then he hiked it.
So if you spy a ghost
whose mouth is all black,
please do the right thing
and give him a whack!
James Aitchison
The Gloopityglug
The Gloopityglug
Is a monstrous bug,
It gloops and it glugs
All over my rug.
Its Gloopity goo
Will stick to my shoe,
Slimy and shiny
And stinking like poo.
James Aitchison
Spooks at school
Our school at night is a fearsome sight —
the windows are dark, with not a light.
And if you dared go inside you’d find
ghosts and ghouls of every kind.
Classrooms by day are busy places;
at night they become haunted spaces
where wicked spirits practise dark arts,
and bloodthirsty vampires play darts.
Hear zombies calling assembly rolls,
Checking the names of tormented souls.
Moonlit mayhem and witches galore,
monsters hiding under the floor.
But why put up with trepidation
while you gain an education?
Take some advice: Attend school by day;
the rest of the time — stay away!
James Aitchison
Betty’s hair
I once knew a girl called Betty
Whose hair looked just like spaghetti.
She tied it in strands
With big rubber bands,
Then chopped it up for confetti.
James Aitchison
Armpit
Armpit, armpit,
Look at you!
You’re so hollow —
What to do!
You like to sweat
And grow hair,
No wonder you’re
Hiding there!
James Aitchison
About James: “My poetry plans for 2018: write more children’s poems, experiment with new forms and themes, and build up a collection for a book.”
Living spaghetti
Wriggle wriggle, squirm squirm,
Here comes a nice long worm.
Like spaghetti come to life,
What a busy earthworm!
Watch it slide and slither,
Oops, it’s in a dither.
Pick it up now if you dare,
Dangle it in the air.
Wriggle wriggle, squirm squirm,
Thank you, thank you, earthworm!
You let our soil grow good things,
Such a helpful earthworm!
James Aitchison
Living spaghetti
Wriggle wriggle, squirm squirm,
Here comes a nice long worm.
Like spaghetti come to life,
What a busy earthworm!
Watch it slide and slither,
Oops, it’s in a dither.
Pick it up now if you dare,
Dangle it in the air.
Wriggle wriggle, squirm squirm,
Thank you, thank you, earthworm!
You let our soil grow good things,
Such a helpful earthworm!
James Aitchison
MEGHAN MARKLE’S MOUSE
My home is my castle — Windsor Castle —
And I live in St George’s Chapel;
Being a mouse I go foraging
for some crumbs and pieces of apple.
My chapel is mostly a peaceful place,
But no! Not on the nineteenth of May:
won’t have a moment to bless myself
when the world comes to visit that day.
They’re making history on May nineteen,
and there will be no time to tarry —
but I’ll have a front row seat to see
Meghan Markle marry Prince Harry!
I’ll hide underneath Her Majesty’s chair —
that should give me an excellent view —
and I’ll wave my tail and squeak hooray
when Meghan and Harry say I do!
A CLOGYRNACH GOES TO THE DENTIST
I went to the dentist last week;
he opened my mouth for a peek.
When he saw inside,
his eyes goggled wide.
What he spied
made him shriek.
The news he gave me was chilling,
“All of your front teeth need filling;
they’re full of decay,
I’ll fix them today!”
I said, “Yay! —
start drilling!”
He was deftly wielding his drill
when he sneezed as though he were ill!
He bored through my gum —
drilled into my bum —
“Sorry, chum,
here’s my bill.”
My time in his chair had been brief,
full of torture, terror and grief!
Let my teeth all fall —
no dentist I’d call!
After all —
who needs teeth?
–
James Aitchison
A CLOGYRNACH is a six-line Welsh poem with a rhyme scheme of aabbba.
Autumn
The heat of summer bleeds
from the trees.
Golden sunrises.
Orange afternoons.
Fiery sunsets.
Summer writes itself
on the trees,
Then tumbles onto the grass,
Tossed by the wind,
Claimed by the long, long winter.
James Aitchison
