![]() |
||||
![]() |
To a child funny poetry will make you a hero and make the wee ones smile. But are these limerick poems? Nay, for Molly herein aspired to iambic heptameter, working her way toward the classical form of epic with delusions of grandeur. However, down further on the page (kindly scroll) our Martha, employs iambic tetrameter for your enjoyment. The Queen Drops By Once upon a time here in our pub, the Queen dropped by, The waiting list is long due to her vast experience and the quality of the curriculum, for Martha has done this gig before the hard way, for decades with real children, and now chooses to read a child funny poetry or stack blocks or play with clay in smaller doses. She fills in as needed for teachers with sniffles, and upon Boards, which sounds boring to Kathleen, but surely is not, for she is now teaching teachers, and prodding parents to do what’s best for the small fry. Well, our friend Martha harks from someplace called Nob Hill, and before that, some of her antecedents came over on the Mayflower, to be met by some of ours, rather less formally attired, perhaps, a situation Rousseau is said to have regretted, rather preferring the original arrangements. Before too long, they had the run of the place, bringing high tea and crumpets to this fair and savage land. Often she drops in the pub, followed by a gaggle of young teachers and mothers reminiscent of Konrad Lorenz’s ducklings, so numerous in fact that we have set aside a room for them with starched tablecloths and silly hats for dress up, a wee table with crayons, and a stack of pop-up books where our smallest patrons can amuse themselves while their caretakers chat. Today Martha is here, sipping her green tea from her special Royal Doulton™ cup (with her pinky up) and nibbling chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies which would not dare to migrate to her hips. Shall we sidle closer and listen?
Child Funny Poetry is the topic here, all brought to you When Parents are Late One awful day my mom was late Maybe Mom’s in trouble! They got her in a space ship Or maybe pirates have her Perhaps she just went sailing I feel my tears are starting “I hope that you weren’t worried, dear, Please do not forget to attribute to Jeannette Ramirez as author unless otherwise noted. Webmasters, thank you for supporting this project by linking. For the poem count at Here Be Limerick Poems visit our home page. |
|||