Children's Poetry On Social Media

I've a picture of Pluto,
             My white spacesuit,
                         My robot Charlie,
                               My red moon-boots,
                                           All hidden tight,
                                                  In my secret lair,
My spaceship under the stairs.

Not even Mum,
       Nor my sister Sal,
                 Not even Dad,
                       Nor my brother Cal,
                                Can come with me,
                                          To my secret lair,
My spaceship under the stairs.

I can jet to the moon,
                 Or fly to Mars,
                      Take my shuttle,
                           Or my solar car,
                                Shout, 'We have lift-off!'
                                               On a faraway star,
In my spaceship under the stairs.

I can catch a comet,
            Or a meteorite,
              Zoom round and round,
                                     A satellite,
                                        Do what I want,
                                             Whenever I like,
In my spaceship under the stairs.

It's my special place,
          When I creep inside,
                     To play or think,
                           To dream or hide,
                                  Or just to be there,
                                           With my old cloth bear,
In my spaceship under the stairs.


First published in "Space Poems" chosen by Gaby Morgan, Macmillan.

Hobgoblins and spellbinders,
Angels in rags,
Liar or truthteller,
Lacewitch or hag.
Over the gristle bones
Warlocks fights,
Earwigs are flying with
Elfin and sprite.
Now keep me safe this Halloween night!


First published in "Ye New Spell Book" compiled by Brian Moses, Macmillan.

march ringing ting-a-linging
bird winging green swinging

spring singing

sun daisy corn hazy
cloud gazey june lazy

summer crazy

leaf turning summer yearning
ghost twirling red curling

autumn swirling

snowy ruffle icy bluffle
cold snuffle warm duffle

winter muffle


First Published in Poetry Works and Poster Pack, Folens

Add two times twenty-two,
To twelve and twenty more,
Take forty-five from fifty-five,
Add four by forty-four.

Add six and six to sixteen,
To eighteen by eleven,
To nine and nine and ninety-nine,
Add nine from ninety-seven.

Add thirty-three and thirteen,
Take seven from twenty-four,
Add seventy-seven to sixty-six,
And total up your score.

You can count them on your fingers,
You can count them on your toes,
You can count them out with counters,
You can count them out in rows.

And when you’ve got the answer,
When you’re sure, and only then –
You can add another hundred
And count them all again!


First published in "The Works 2" selected by Brian Moses and Pie Corbett, Macmillan (2002).

I am in speak but not in tell,
I am in whisper but not in yell,
I am in peel but not in bell,
And you’ll find me in spin as well as spell.

I am in loyal but not in true,
I am in gold but not in blue,
I am in hold but not in glue,
I am in know but not in knew.

I am in haste but not in soon,
I am in space but not in room,
I am in shine but not in moon,
I am in flower but not in bloom.

My last is in mighty but not yet great,
You’ll find me in Molly but not in Kate,
I’m never in yak and never in you,
But always in rhyme and poem too.


A version of this was first published in "The Universal Vacuum Cleaner and Other Riddle Poems" compiled by John Foster, Illustrated by Tony Ross, Oxford University Press (2005)

How doth the little spider be,
A Master of Geometry?
Oh tell me, tell me, if you know,
Where did she learn to weave quite so?
Please tell me little Spider friend,
How many hours did you spend
Creating such a sight to see,
Such skillful lines of symmetry?
Concentric frame,
Installed at night,
A work of art,
By morning light!

A winter’s tree
is just like me
forgetting what
it used to be

A springtime tree
is just like me
renewing what
it hopes to be

A summer’s tree
is just like me
expressing what
it wants to be

An autumn tree
is just like me
reflecting what
it was to be

A winter’s tree
is just like me
forgetting what
it used to be

When I’m caught out and angry, and tears start to flow,
I pack up my rucksack and quickly I go
To the huge, towering oak tree, in the field by the woods,
Where nobody says that I shouldn’t or should.

I unpack my bag, spread my blanket and sit;
Feel the tree’s cooling shadow, and hide under it.
I watch the birds fly through the branches that span
The space where no voice says I can’t or I can.

My back rests against the deep patterns of bark,
And soon the sun makes an exchange with the dark,
Then I leave with clear thoughts that I gained as I hid
With a tree that’s not bothered if I didn’t or did.

Be a kid
Enjoy the ride
Pause a while
Step outside

Frozen now
For shortest time
Look around
Upwards climb

Scan the view
and hold it still
Come back soon
You never will

So what you can
Pack in your case
And take it to
A future place

When you’re there
Way down the line
Open it
Let it shine

Reminding you
from green to gold
What you held
You still hold

Awe, belief
Hope and fear
Carried all
From there to here

What you were
is what you be
Past and present
in a bag called, ‘Me.’

I have lots of friends, but there is a special one,
With whom I play the most – we have so much fun.
He never argues, and I’ve never heard him whine;
He always thinks that my suggestions are perfectly fine.
He never, ever disagrees, or picks a quarrel with me,
As a friend, he is as loyal as can be.
But he does urge me to do naughty things once in a way,
And when I get scolded, he’s silent when I protest and say,
“I didn’t intend to do any mischief – I just can’t comprehend,
Why are you scolding me, instead of my imaginary friend?”

Have you ever seen the exact moment when Night
Descends from above, and spreads darkness everywhere?
Night comes so quietly, and chases Day away so thoroughly,
That it doesn’t leave even a speck of light behind in the air!
Though I am aware of Night’s arrival every single day,
I still cannot say when exactly Night comes down.
Nor can I pinpoint the exact hour, minute, and second,
When Night spreads its inky blackness all over my town.

I wish that spinach tasted like chocolate,
Instead of tasting sour and bitter.
I wish that candy bars were loaded with nutrition,
So that eating as many as I like would make me even fitter.
I wish I could finish my homework quickly every day,
Instead of feeling drowsy as soon as I start to write.
I wish I could keep a dragon as a pet at home,
So I can play with him to my heart’s delight.
I wish that one day, I get to meet a real fairy,
Instead of just reading about fairies in folklore.
I wish that the fairy answers all my questions to her,
So then, I can ask her several more.

Though I have never, ever met a fairy,
I am quite certain that they exist.
I read about them every day in stories and poems,
So I know they’re living somewhere in our midst.
When I play in my garden, or in the park,
I am always alert to look around,
I peer at tree trunks, bushes, and flowerbeds
And quiet corners where a fairy might be found.
I have already decided what I will do,
When I meet a little fairy someday.
I won’t shout, clap, or speak in a loud voice,
Because that might scare the fairy away!
I’ll introduce myself politely, and then perhaps,
I’ll tell the fairy about the things I like to do -
I hope that the fairy will find this so interesting,
That she’ll tell me all about herself too!

He’s coming! He’s coming!
Santa Claus is on his sleigh!
He’s coming! He’s coming!
Magic reindeer – up and away!

He’s suited, he’s booted,
Snow-white bearded, dressed in red,
He’s coming, he’s coming!
Quick now, children, go to bed!

He’s landed! He’s landed!
Reindeer hooves upon the tiles!
He’s landed! He’s landed!
Bringing gifts and lots of smiles!

It’s hard to listen,
hard to stop thinking
about what I want to say,
hard to stop searching
for a place to break in,
hard to give all my attention,
but when I listen,
really listen,
I hear what you are saying,
I see your point of view—
your words become
a billowing ribbon
connecting me to you.

Arrgh! I’m a pirate.
I sail salty seas,

searching for ships,
at the whim of the breeze.

I ride rolling waves
up and down, night and day.

I head for the clouds.
I plunge through the spray.

Me, and my parrot,
every soul I command,

we rise and we fall
until we hit land.

One kind word can change a thought,
It can change an opinion,
Change a mind.

One kind word can offer hope,
It can give happiness,
Change an experience.

One kind word can bring growth,
It can give someone strength,
Change a day.

One kind word can make a difference,
It can show someone cares,
Change a life.