Poems for PBK: Volume 2
Five more poems for Pocketbooks for Kids.
Go back to Volume 1
Please consider joining the Pocketbooks for Kids event….[[|:-)
The Cunning-Word Hummingbird
The cunning-word hummingbird,
Has plenty to say that’s absurd,
It doesn’t matter what you heard,
She’ll swindle you with every word.
Her words will toy with your mind,
She’ll leave you feeling left behind,
All the while flying quick to find,
A victim who is clandestine.
Her speedy wings will mesmerize,
Holding fast your lazy eyes,
This is where she steals your prize,
Leaving you with a poor surprise.
The Ever-Rude Gelatinous Cube
The ever-rude gelatinous cube,
Is addicted to the boob-tube.
He gives disturbers fierce attitude,
For disrupting his solitude.
Lonely due to his anatomy,
Something he can’t help you see,
It gestates those in the vicinity,
Bringing him back to solemnity.
He watches TV for his depression,
You could say it’s quite the obsession,
Or maybe his newfound profession,
As long as it quells his aggression.
The Halfling Staff Sling
The halfling staff sling,
Just some wood and leathery string,
For the well-trained it will fling,
A rock so fast it will sting.
It’s nothing more than a big stick,
It’s haft measuring one inch thick,
It’s not the weapon you would pick,
If maiming foes is your schtick.
For halflings it will do just fine,
Whether it’s of ash, cedar, or pine.
They’ll knot it up with a bit of twine,
And tread the forest to hunt some swine.
The Outmost Outpost
The outmost outpost,
Is far north along the coast,
Where sailors often boast,
Of having sailed to the northern most.
It’s hardly seen any battles,
And the gate rumbles and rattles,
When idle they make leather saddles,
From rabbits, foxes, and cattles.
Most residents are docile and lean,
From diets that lack in protein.
Their meats are sent off by routine,
To feed others with fine dining cuisine.
The Wrong-Throw Longbow
The wrong-throw longbow,
Made from wood that is hollow,
It flings all of its ammo,
In a wide-arcing rainbow.
You can’t predict where it’ll hit,
Giving its shooter a raging fit,
Where they’ll cry, “I'm through with it!”,
Before hurling it into a pit.
Although it won’t strike your aim,
It’s not altogether lame.
It has but one claim to fame,
And that’s living up to its name.
Go to Volume 3
Please consider supporting my work at Ko-fi
Thank you so much for reading. Please like, comment, and share. I hope you have a wonderful day….[[|:-)