A sea lion having a nap,
Was wishing that he’d brought a cap,
The sun was so hot
That a headache he’d got,
So he just used his flipper to flap.
Tag Archives: poem
Black Swan
There once was a pretty black swan,
Who walked in the snow on the lawn,
Although he was bold,
He cried out in the cold,
And said, “I’ll be glad when it’s gone.”
Fat Squirrel
There was a young squirrel who ate seeds,
He ate more than anyone needs,
But though he got fat,
He just said, “What of that?
Please keep on providing the feeds.”
Iris
This is the last of my alternating flower and bird photo poems. I suppose I could call them phoems. Thank you to those who hung in there until the end. I’ll spare you now and space out my posts a little more.
I love the heat, yet here I am,
With lolling tongue stuck out,
But please don’t take offense, madame,
I’m no ill-mannered lout.
I lure the bees in with my tongue,
They pollinate my throat,
And even though I’m still so young,
My beauty is of note.
Merlin
I’m really not a scary bird,
Don’t mean to scatter friends,
It seems though when my call is heard,
The birdsong quickly ends.
Purple Poppy
Our milky blood is in demand,
For making dreamy drugs,
Our flowers grow o’er all the land,
We’re sought after by thugs.
Downy Woodpecker
My feathers are scruffed up today,
The breeze has teased them ’round,
I guess what I am trying to say,
I feel like “lost and found.”
But take a look here at this roof,
It’s old and quite a mess,
It’s seen some weather, see the proof,
It’s ratty, I confess.
In soft, old wood I find a bug,
For when I want to eat,
It only takes a good quick tug,
To spear it nice and neat.
Hollyhocks
I don’t know if any of you followed Barb Beacham’s blog “Life in the Foothills,” but I got to know her a little bit through her posts. Way back, more than ten years ago, she sent me seeds of these hollyhocks from plants in her yard in California, which I planted in my garden here on Vancouver Island. Sadly, Barb died of cancer in November of 2015, but her hollyhocks live on and I think of her each year as I watch her flowers bloom. She had a great sense of humour and I admired her creative writing. I still miss her.
The hollyhocks are strong and fine,
They bloom so straight and tall,
They like to stand up in a line,
And stay until it’s fall.
The flowers are like megaphones,
But silently they stand,
They like a group, but standalones
Do fine and look so grand.
Blue Grouse
I should be way up in the hills,
But it’s still cold up there,
The snow was giving me the chills,
I’m here for finer fare.
And anyway, I’m on a search,
To find a lovely mate,
She can’t just leave me in the lurch,
That cannot be my fate.
Chrysanthemum
Chrysanthemums live on and on ,
With minimum of care,
They’ll bloom long after we are gone,
With memories to share.
- This particular chrysanthemum was blooming on my mother’s deck. I brought it home to live with me after my mother died in 1982. It’s still going strong. Amazing plants, aren’t they?
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