My Dog is Not Like Other Dogs

Creepy Pizza

I'd like a pizza topped with cheese
then sprinkled with some gnats and fleas,
some centipedes and slimy slugs
and other creepy crawly bugs.

I want to add some fingernails
and oyster ooze and crunchy snails
and chicken bones and spoiled meat
and smelly socks from dirty feet

I want it topped with lots of mould
and gooey boogers (not too old)
a lot of snot, a little spit,
and guts with grimy, grainy grit.

I want the most disgusting crust
with spider webs and day-old dust
and dirt and mould and blood and gore
delivered to my sisters door!

What I Found in My Desk

Week 3 Term 2

Swampy Swims

When you swim in swampy water
Listen out for swirling sounds
For swishing, swampy water
Crocodiles abound

They will swash right up behind you
And swallow you in one sweep
To a swarthy hungry crocodile
You are its favourite tea

Week 2, Term 2 Poem

Charlie's Charity Chomp

Charlie was a cheerful chap
As chubby as can be
On chilly days he wore a cap
And ate for charity.

He chomped his way through chocolate bars
Cheddar cheese and chicken pies
He ate chickpeas with chestnut sauce
And homemade cheesy fries

He chowed down chips and chewy chews
And chops with sprinkled chives
All the finest china plates
With challenge in his eyes!

His cause this time was chimpanzees
Who had nowhere to be
He ate and ate so they could chase
Their chums from tree to tree

Do you know other words that start with ch? Post a comment to add the ones that you know.

Week 1, Term 2 poem

I Dreamed I Was Riding a Zebra

I dreamed I was riding a zebra
with curly pink hair on his head
and when I woke up in the morning
that zebra was there in my bed.

I rode into school on my zebra.
It caused all the teachers to scream.
But then I was slightly embarrassed
to find it was still just a dream.

I woke up again in my bedroom,
and saw with relief and a laugh
I don't have a pink-headed zebra.
I guess I'll just ride the giraffe.

Week 9 Poem

What's Weird

What's weird about a mirror
is that I can never see
what my mirror looks like
without me.

I've peeked at it 'round corners
but my forehead I still see.
It still sees me.

I've hung down from the ceiling
by my ankles and my toes,
but it still knows.

I've tried to run right past it,
but as fast as I can go,
I still show.

What's weird about a mirror
is that I have never known
what my mirror looks like all alone.

Week 8 Poem

THE BUMBLY BOO

In the Land of the Bumbly Boo
The people are red, white and blue
They never blow noses
Or ever wear clotheses
What a sensible thing to do!

In the Land of the Bumbly Boo
You can buy lemon pie at the zoo
They give away foxes
In little pink boxes
And bottles of dandelion stew.

In the Land of the Bumbly Boo
You never see a gnu
But thousands of cats
Wearing trousers and hats
Made of pumpkin and pelican glue.

Oh the Bumbly Boo! The Bumbly Boo!
That’s the place for me and you
So hurry let’s run
The train leaves at one
For the Land of The Bumbly Boo

The wonderful Bumbly Boo Boo Boo
The wonderful Wumbly Woo!

Spike Milligan

Week 7 Poem

Mr Nobody

I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house!
There's no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody.

'Tis he who always tears our books,
Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pins afar;
That squeaking door will always squeak,
For, prithee, don't you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody.

He puts damp wood upon the fire,
That kettles cannot boil;
His are the feet that bring in mud,
And all the carpets soiled.
The papers always are mislaid,
Who had them last but he?
There's no one tosses them about
But Mr. Nobody.

The finger marks upon the door
By none of us are made;
We never leave the blinds unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
that lying round you see
Are not our boots -- they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.

Poem, Week 5

My Dog Likes to Disco

My doggy likes to disco dance.
He boogies every night.
He dances in his doghouse‘till the early morning light.
The other dogs come running
when they hear my doggy swing.
A few will play their instruments.
The others dance and sing.
They pair off with their partners
as their tails begin to wag.
They love to do the bunny hop,the fox trot and the shag.
You'll see the doghouse rockin'
as a hundred dogs or more
all trip the light fantastic
on the doghouse disco floor.
At last, at dawn, they exit
in the early morning breeze,
and stop to sniff the fire hydrants,bushes, lawns and trees.
I just don't understand it
for although it looks like fun.
I can't see how they fit inside
that doghouse built for one.
--Kenn Nesbitt