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Tag Archives: Kids
When Your Child Is A “Musician”
To make a student concert go
There are some things you need to know.
Just like a wedding, what you hear
May cause you to shed a tear.
They’ll play a tune you know by heart,
Beloved favorite, devoid of art
And then a piece that’s written so
The talentless might play a show.
This will go on for several hours
And won’t be cancelled due to showers
To gird your loins and plug your ears;
You’ll have one for the next ten years.
Filed under Poems
Things We Can Learn From Kids
At what age can you no longer say
“Do you want to be friends?” to a stranger?
It seems to be somewhere between six and 90
And otherwise they call you “Danger”.
But I think the world would be happier
If we’d ask to be friends way more often.
Sure, they can say “no”, but give it some time
And society will soon start to soften.
Filed under Poems
The Best Days Of My Life
When I was a kid in school
I was never very cool.
I was skinny like an elf
And ate my lunches by myself.
I though cool sticks were precious pearls;
I paid no mind to all the girls.
Looking back, I need to say
Why can’t I have all that today?
Filed under Poems
More Is Better
“Would you like to sit at the table”
My mother asked, her voice sour.
“I’m good” I replied, my voice filled with pride
As I stared down at her from my tower.
Filed under Poems
Baby’s First Gangsta Rap
I hit my brother
And hit my mother.
It was not okay.
They said “Don’t hit.”
I said “No shit”
And hit them anyway.
Cops saw the fight,
Turned on their light,
And hit me in the gut.
So hitting’s okay
With the government’s say?
And I was all like “Wut?”
I hit the cop
And hit my pop
With my inflatable hammer.
They cuffed my wrists
To stop my fists
And shut me in the slammer.
I was in jail
‘Cause no one paid bail
And was charged in juvenile court.
I can’t write a sentence
But I’ll attempt repentance
And maybe build a fort.
Filed under Poems
Honest Kids
I said “kinda farty,”
And mommy got mad.
That’s what her dinner tasted like.
Now I live alone with Dad.
Filed under Poems
Neverland is Here
A child once asked
What the word “adult” means.
I answered “It’s someone
Grown out of their teens.”
“So just like a grown up!”
The kid clarified,
And I felt my innards
Knotting up inside
For I knew that tiny figure
Holding onto his sippy cup
Would be forced to discover
Most adults never grow up.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 