<HONEA EXPRESS: A Promise Kept - Poems for Kids

It finally happened. Honea Express has moved to greener pastures, or possibly just out to pasture -- you make the call.

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Thursday, August 06, 2009

A Promise Kept - Poems for Kids

Some time ago, back before I didn't post FOREVER I made a promise. Granted that promise was to this blog in general and none of the readers seemed very interested. Or not interested at all, actually, but hey, it's my blog and I'm a man of my word.

If you don't like bad poetry you should leave now.

I give you my poems for kids (as promised):


On my belly
just left of the mole,
where other kids have buttons
I only have a hole.

I tried hiding it with scotch tape,
it tore off all my skin.
I stuffed it full of cotton,
but the swabs would not stay in.

I planted a flower in it
to see if it would grow,
I filled it up with catnip,
and Fluffy's front right toe.

I asked my mom to sew on
a button from my jacket,
I tried to stitch it shut
with some string from my racket.

I plugged it with a cork
my stomach got real numb,
so I poked it with a fork
I poked it with my thumb.

Of all the things I tried,
none could be hipper,
than my solid-steel, gold plated
new belly zipper.


Daddy says I’ve got hiccup style,
says I’ve been burpin’ for quite a while.
He could pat me on the back,
or I could breathe into a sack,
but he says the beat is good,
and if I practice it I could
be a professional hiccupee
as long as no one’s scaring me.


Ice and cold
Between the fold
Of my cotton undies.
Throwing snow
I did not know
Could be so not so fundies.

When I was just the arm
Then I thought there was no harm
In practicing my aim.
Until someone shouted “fire”
Then I decided to retire
And the target I became.

If only I did duck
Instead of being struck
My bottom would be dry.
As it is my rear is wet
I can only imagine the playground bet
If I’m a briefs or boxers guy.


In still and quiet night,
Your eyes are shutting tight
Soon your lips will smile
I will rock you for a while

Hold me in embrace,
Feel my cheek upon your face
The wet is only tears
I will rock away your fears

Through stars, sun or rain
By buggy, boat or distant train
It is as peaceful as it seems
I am rocking you to dreams

Meet the ones you missed,
Remember those you kissed
Through clouds and rivers deep
I am rocking you to sleep.


I’m going to be a dad...again
and still. Still I am a dad.
It will be new because it is you
and you have undeserved
shadows already cast over you
and boots to fill
but I have faith in you
though we haven’t
been properly introduced.

You are number two.
That is just a matter of chance.
It is chronological.
It is not a ranking.
Although your big brother
is about the coolest,
and you are luckier at this point
because you have things
that he never did-
like him for instance.

Come out smiling
and be welcomed.
Come out knowing
how fortune feels
and know that love
is the most important
currency that I carry.


My sister got a blister
on the bottom of her foot,
it's there cuz'a my fault
I pushed her in the soot.
I thought it might be funny,
'til she started cryin',
she screamed about them hot coals,
I swore that she was lyin'.
And so with my bare foot
I stepped into that soot,
and sure enough, them coals were hot,
and on my foot I also got
a big raw burnin' blister . . . .
a lot like the one I got for my sister.


If dinosaurs sang a song
I wonder how it'd sound.
It would probably be like thunder
over rain that's pouring down.
Or maybe like a choo-choo train
rolling fast along the tracks,
or like a dozen snoring grandpas
asleep upon their backs.

Could it be like a drummer's beat
that leads an army of marching feet?
Or like a pack of howling wolves?
Stampeding cattle with a thousand hooves?
I suppose it could be any of these,
but what if dinosaurs were quiet as bees?

What if they sang like the evening wind
blowing softly, cool, and nice?
Or like a tiny mouse with friends?
Oh, I guess that would be mice.

About the only way I'll ever know
is to buy a dinosaur radio...
but I'm broke.

Promise kept.

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