Woodland Follies - a poem - 17th Apr 2013 8:10pm
Here's another poem I wrote about ten years ago. At the creative writing class I was attending at the time, we were asked to write a humorous children's poem and include local surroundings:-
WOODLAND FOLLIES
Freddie Fox and Samantha Squirrel
Both lived in a park, somewhere on the Wirral
And although they could hardly be regarded as friends
Their paths often crossed, every now and again
Tommy Tortoise was catching up on some sleep
While the trees were alive with the housemartin’s cheep
And Samantha’s best friend was Henrietta Hare
They all fancied a bus ride, but poor Tommy had no “fur”
So, instead, they had a picnic down by the lake
With jellies and biscuits, and a large sandwich cake
But old Freddie slyly watched from behind some tall trees
Unaware his movements had disturbed a hive full of bees
With a buzz, and a hum, and a drone as they swarm
Freddie has no desire to be the target for those flying thorns
He hops and he bounds; and he leaps, but he falls
Seems he won’t be sampling the picnic delights after all!
But our little story has a sting in the tail
Just like Freddie Fox at the end of this tale
For while he’d been watching the others with greed in his eyes
There were mice in his lair, stealing his winter supplies!
WOODLAND FOLLIES
Freddie Fox and Samantha Squirrel
Both lived in a park, somewhere on the Wirral
And although they could hardly be regarded as friends
Their paths often crossed, every now and again
Tommy Tortoise was catching up on some sleep
While the trees were alive with the housemartin’s cheep
And Samantha’s best friend was Henrietta Hare
They all fancied a bus ride, but poor Tommy had no “fur”
So, instead, they had a picnic down by the lake
With jellies and biscuits, and a large sandwich cake
But old Freddie slyly watched from behind some tall trees
Unaware his movements had disturbed a hive full of bees
With a buzz, and a hum, and a drone as they swarm
Freddie has no desire to be the target for those flying thorns
He hops and he bounds; and he leaps, but he falls
Seems he won’t be sampling the picnic delights after all!
But our little story has a sting in the tail
Just like Freddie Fox at the end of this tale
For while he’d been watching the others with greed in his eyes
There were mice in his lair, stealing his winter supplies!
Have posted another one of my efforts, called "I Remember Technicolor" in Poets Corner:-