Extras - Poems and more

Three Billy Goats Yum!

I lie in wait beneath the bridge
and lick my lips, my eyes ablaze.
There’s nothing fearsome trolls like more
than Billy Goat with Hollandaise.

As shadows lengthen, prospects dim.
I lie in wait beneath the bridge,
dismayed that I may have to eat
some week-old toad left in my fridge.

With aching tummy left to mourn
the tasty treats that might have been,
I lie in wait beneath the bridge.
Trolls should be fat, but I’m so thin.

But wait, is that a tapping hoof?
Three goats traipse down from yonder ridge.
My dinner plans at last prepared,
I lie in wait beneath the bridge.

Troll Poem for Mrs. Barber’s Fifth Grade

In a dreary old forest with weary old trees
Stands a pile of rocks where there's never any breeze
Hidden by the rocks, there's a smelly little hole
With some bugs and spiders and a grumpy old troll

If he hears you coming, he is likely to hide
He is not fond of company, just stays inside
Unless you smell nasty, haven't washed in a while
If your feet both stink, he might greet you with a smile.

But even if he's pleasant and invites you in
To his musty dusty hole with a crooked little grin
Just say "No, thank you!" if he offers you a meal
Unless you are hungry for some raw moldy eel.

Because trolls like food that is icky and gross
They might munch on beetles, or eat maggots on toast
If your tummy's growling and you're hungry as can be
You may eat what he offers you, but don't blame me!

I Might

The day is ripe with opportunity;
I might skip school, pick flowers, climb a tree.

The sun is shining, air is bright and clear.
I might go to the lake, sit on the pier.

What wonders wait before me in the woods?
I might think more of ‘coulds’ instead of ‘shoulds’.

And when I’m hungry from adventures far,
I might sneak home, grab cookies from the jar.

My mind is filled with thoughts I can’t resist;
I might hold hands with Bobby, steal a kiss.

But tempted though I am, I know what’s right.
I also know what’s wrong… but still I might.

Abcedarius - A child's life

A for the apple that falls on the ground
Bouncing beside me, it makes not a sound
"Can I please eat it?" I question my Dad
Dad checks it over, and sees it's not bad.

E for the brown eggs my neighbor's hens lay
Fallen forgotten deep down in the hay
Gathered up carefully, taken inside
Heavenly taste when cracked open and fried.

I for the ivy which on our house grows
Jamming the window I wanted to close
Kitchen scissors cut close, snipping a vine
Leave this one for me, I'm glad that it's mine.

M for the muffins my mother soon bakes
Nuts and brown sugar, a great treat she makes
Over to my house my friends like to come
Party with baking - leave nary a crumb.

Q for the quiet at end of the day
Reading a story, but yawning away
Simply can not keep my tired eyes open
Tonight, happy dreams, or so I ‘m hopin'

Under the covers I snuggle with glee
Vince, my stuffed bear, snuggles close in with me
When I'm fast asleep tucked tight in my bed.
X marks the spot where I lay down my head.

Yesterday's gone, but tomorrow draws near
Zipping closer, the sun soon will appear.