Thursday, August 2, 2018

Room on a broom

Room on the broom
A wonderful tale about a witch who invites many animals on her broom 

 
Room on a Broom from Lilli🌸 Rose🌹 on Vimeo.


Sunday, July 29, 2018

I cannot go to school today by Shel Silverstein

The best poet for Children's poetry: Shel Silverstein




I cannot go to school today!

by 
"I cannot go to school today"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox.

And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
It might be the instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.

My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My toes are cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is ...
What? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is .............. Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Fairy dreams



Fairy Dreams
By Marja Blom

Shhht listen do you hear the rustle?
Do you notice the huzzle and buzzle,
in the garden when it is spring,
from bugs butterflies and birds that sing

But you are very lucky indeed
It you hear the pitter patter of little feet
or the chitter chatter from under a leaf
It's the sound of fairies you must believe

I found a book fairy under a palm
His name was Page He was very calm
Collecting words is for Page a must
He sprinkles them with fairy dust

Page gives all words a fairy sound
like "flutter flap flopsy fly around"
That means "a ball for butterflies"
and "trippety tea" is a party for mice

A party where mice keep there pinky up
when drinking tea from a flower cup
 and "bug buddy buzzy bee"
is a race club for bees and it is free

Page goes there and on the back of a bee
he buzzez around your bed you see
He whispers words in your ear on his flight
Giving you beautiful dreams at night

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Spots and dots

 Spots and dots
By Marja Blom

Chuck an old bug went for a walk and got stuck
Luckily he got help from a cute little bug
He asked little bug what he was doing here alone
"Oh" sighted little bug "I am always on my own"
The others don't like me because I haven't any spots
and you are only cool when you have lots of dots

Come with me little bug, where I live, dotless is the trend
Little bug looked surprised and became confident
He chatted and joked when they went on their way
A young bug heard his laughter and asked him to play
The two had great fun and became friends straight away
Little bug asked old chuck if his new friend could stay

"No he can't, at my place your friends spots will cause fear"
Does it so" mumbled little bug "than I will stay here"
"I like my new friend, about spots I don't care
I even wouldn't care if he had purple hair."
"That's fine" said Chuck and they went separate ways
Old Chuck the bug had a smile on his face.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Santa's beard



Santa's Beard
By Marja Blom


One morning after a deep sleep
Santa Claus heard peep, peep, peep
Oh my, he said now that is weird
I think I've got a nest in my beard

Mrs Claus please take the bird away
He said to her with great dismay
Mrs Claus tried and she was curious
Why the bird became so furious

Then next to the bird in the beard
8 wiggly, wobbly eyes appeared
4 lovely tiny chicks came out
and started squealing very loud

Oh Santa dear I know what's best
These chicks will have to keep their nest
but you can't go out like that you know
That beard of yours will have to go

Hence Santa went to cut of his beard
But Santa without a beard looks weird
He bought a fake one and what's more
Santa did look better than before

Now kids if you give Santa's beard a pull
and discover that it's made of wool
You know now why, believe my words
It's because he had to save the birds

Sunday, December 6, 2009

A kiwi night before Christmas

Guest Poem


The New Zealand version of "The night before Christmas" by Yvonne Morrison



A Kiwi Night Before Christmas

It was the night before Christmas, and all round the bach
Not a possum was stirring; not one we could catch.
We left on the table a meat pie and beer,
In hopes that Santa Claus soon would be here.

We children were snuggled up in our bunk beds,
While dreams of pavlova danced in our heads;
And mum in her nightie, and dad in his shorts,
Had just settled down to watch TV sports.

When outside the bach such a ho-ha arose,
I woke up at once from my wonderful doze.
I ran straight to the sliding door, looking about,
Jumped out on the deck, and let out a shout.

The fairy lights dad had strung up around the door
Let me see everything down to the shore.
And what did I see, when I took a peep?
But a miniature tractor and eight tiny sheep.

With a little old driver, his dog on his knee.
I knew at once who this joker might be.
He patted his dog, and in a voice not unkind,
Cried "Good on ya, boy! Now, get in behind!

"Now, Flossy! now Fluffy! now Shaun and Shane!
On, Bossy! on, Buffy on, Jason and Wayne!
Up that red tree, to the top of the bach!
But mind you don't trample the vegetable patch."

So up on the roof those sheep quickly flew,
With the tractor of toys, Santa and his dog too.
As my sister awoke and I turn around,
In through the window he came with a bound.

He wore a black singlet and little white shorts,
And stuck on his feet were gumboots of course;
A sack full of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a postie just opening his pack.

His eyes right as paua shell - oh, how they twinkled!
Like an old tuatara, his skin was all wrinkled!
He had a wide face and a round, fat tummy,
That looked like he'd eaten lots that was yummy.

He spoke not a word, but got down on one knee,
And placed a cricket set under the tree,
A present for sis, one for dad, one for mum,
Then he turned and he winked and held up his thumb.

He jumped on his tractor, to his dog gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, as fast as a missile.
I called out "thanks," as he flew past the gate.
He called back: "Kia ora to all, and good on ya, mate."

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Paradise Island



Paradise Island
By Marja Blom

Pssst I played the most amazing game
Come a bit closer and I explain
I went to an Island on a ship
where kids can all day skate and skip

On the island I found a Teepee
and danced with Indians around a tree
To their chief I said Tag you're it
He chased me with a spear but didn't hit

I also met Alice from wonderland
I went to a tea party with her as a friend
We played with walking cards and Alice was better
 she even was better than the mad hatter

Than some pirates  threw me in the sea
after captain Hook played dice with me
I got saved from the sharks by Peter Pan
That was a great adventure, oh man

With tiny Tinklebell I flew a kite
Till Peter Pan brought me home that night
I told mum about all the games I played
She said; "Dreaming you do in bed. Off you go. It's late"

Monday, November 23, 2009

My dolls




My dolls
By Marja Blom


What a mess these toys she dares to say
she, who has never time to play
I'll tell you this you Miss O midy
You are the one who makes this place look untidy

What a snobbery, a snobbery
to want to do away
with these dolls of me
I confine in them, I dine with them

I drink a cup of tea with them
They play with me, they pray with me
They are patient when I talk oui oui
I am their mother, teacher friend

They've got all that time with me to spent
avec moi, with me, with me
They cuddle hug and snuggle me
At night when I'm alone in my bed

They look so pretty and cute to me
They are my dearest company
my dolls my friends to be