Happy Poems

Roger McGough

Cover

Title page

A Smile

A Smile

Smiling is infectious,

you catch it like the flu.

When someone smiled at me today

I started smiling too.

I passed around the corner

and someone saw my grin.

When he smiled, I realized

I’d passed it on to him.

I thought about my smile and then

I realized its worth.

A single smile like mine could travel

right around the earth.

If you feel a smile begin

don’t leave it undetected.

Let’s start an epidemic quick

and get the world infected.

Jez Alborough

Yes

Yes

A smile says: Yes.

A heart says: Blood.

When the rain says: Drink

The earth says: Mud.

The kangaroo says: Trampoline.

Giraffes say: Tree.

A bus says: Us,

While a car says: Me.

Lemon trees say: Lemons.

A jug says: Lemonade.

The villain says: You’re wonderful.

The hero: I’m afraid.

The forest says: Hide and Seek.

The grass says: Green and Grow.

The railway says: Maybe.

The prison says: No.

The millionaire says: Take.

The beggar says: Give.

The soldier cries: Mother!

The baby sings: Live.

The river says: Come with me.

The moon says: Bless.

The stars say: Enjoy the Light.

The sun says: Yes.

Adrian Mitchell

The Laughter Forecast

The Laughter Forecast

Today will be humorous

With some giggly patches,

Scattered outbreaks of chuckling in the south

And smiles spreading from the east later,

Widespread chortling

Increasing to gale-force guffaws towards evening.

The outlook for tomorrow

Is hysterical.

Sue Cowling

from Pippa Passes

from Pippa Passes

The year’s at the spring

And day’s at the morn;

Morning’s at seven;

The hillside’s dew-pearled;

The lark’s on the wing;

The snail’s on the thorn:

God’s in His heaven –

All’s right with the world!

Robert Browning

The Feeling of Having a Good Day

The Feeling of Having a Good Day

Hallelujah –

I’m awake!

This day belongs to me

and I’m its favourite.

It wants to lick me

like a dog.

The world

is a balloon

that’s on my string.

I’ll get a prize

at school assembly

for being me,

then all the lessons

will be about

my awesomeness

and at break

I’ll kick the football

to Australia.

I can see it in the mirror

when I smile –

I have electric teeth!

Joanne Limburg

To See a World

To See a World

To see a world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

William Blake

Hope on a Rope

Hope on a Rope

If you don’t

want to lose hope,

tie it to a rope and pull

yourself to safety. Because

hope has the power to lift

you up – whether your

troubles are

light or

Brian Bilston

The Teacher’s Gift

The Teacher’s Gift

(Margarette Nicholson, 1909–85)

Every time I tell the time

Or work out ten times two,

I open up a precious gift

Bequeathed to me by you.

You gave me names and numbers.

You taught me how to spell.

You told me how to hold a pen

And how to write as well.

You showed me how to read aloud

From books of red and blue.

You filled my head with goats and trolls

And tinderboxes too.

You planted seeds inside me

But did not see them grow.

A bell rings at the end of school

We pack our bags and go.

These words I scrawl on paper,

This shape upon my tongue,

Is made from things you gave to me

Way back when I was young.

Steve Turner

High Achievers

High Achievers

We thought we could . . .

We said we would

go on the climb

to Mount Sublime

and we did it! Yes! We did it!

We got to the top! We did it!

They said it was impossible.

They said we wouldn’t last.

They said it was a grown-ups’ walk

and grown-ups walk too fast.

They said you must be big and strong –

The path is very steep

and you have to cross some channels where

the water’s very deep.

They said the climb is difficult

and we’re not old enough

to know you just keep going when

the going’s really tough.

They said there could be leeches and

creepy crawly things

and real explorers don’t complain

of scratches, bites and stings.

They thought we wouldn’t make it but

they let us go along

and we showed them, yes we showed them they

were wrong! wrong! wrong!

Kate O’Neil

Picking Teams

Picking Teams

When we pick teams in the playground,

Whatever the game might be,

There’s always somebody left till last

And usually it’s me.

I stand there looking hopeful

And tapping myself on the chest,

But the captains pick the others first,

Starting, of course, with the best.

Maybe if teams were sometimes picked

Starting with the worst,

Once in his life a boy like me

Could end up being first!

Allan Ahlberg

Best Friends

Best Friends

It’s Susan I talk to not Tracey,

Before that I sat next to Jane;

I used to be best friends with Lynda

But these days I think she’s a pain.

Natasha’s all right in small doses,

I meet Mandy sometimes in town;

I’m jealous of Annabel’s pony

And I don’t like Nicola’s frown.

I used to go skating with Catherine,

Before that I went there with Ruth;

And Kate’s so much better at trampoline:

She’s a showoff, to tell you the truth.

I think that I’m going off Susan,

She borrowed my comb yesterday;

I think I might sit next to Tracey,

She’s my nearly best friend: she’s OK.

Adrian Henri

Oath of Friendship

Oath of Friendship

Shang ya!

I want to be your friend

For ever and ever without break or decay.

When the hills are all flat

And the rivers are all dry,

When it lightens and thunders in winter,

When it rains and snows in summer,

When Heaven and Earth mingle –

Not till then will I part from you.

Anon. (China)

May You Always

May You Always

May your smile be ever present

May your skies be always blue

May your path be ever upward

May your heart be ever true

May your dreams be full to bursting

May your steps be always sure

May the fire in your soul

Blaze on for evermore

May you live to meet ambition

May you strive to pass each test

May you find the love your life deserves

May you always have the best

May your happiness be plentiful

May your regrets be few

May you always be my best friend

May you always . . . just be you

Paul Cookson

Squeezes

Squeezes

We love to squeeze bananas,

We love to squeeze ripe plums,

And when they are feeling sad

We love to squeeze our mums.

Brian Patten

Don’t

Don’t

Don’t comb your hair in company.

Don’t cross the kitchen floor in welly boots.

Don’t put the television on.

Don’t squint. Don’t get in fights.

Don’t stuff your mouth with sausage.

Don’t drop towels on the bathroom floor.

Don’t hang about with that rough crowd.

Don’t put your feet up on the chair.

Don’t use up all the paper in the loo.

Don’t scratch. Don’t twitch. Don’t sniff. Don’t talk.

Don’t stick your tongue out.

Don’t you dare to answer back.

Life is full of opportunity, says my mum.

Barrie Wade

Mother to Son

Mother to Son

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor –

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So, boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now –

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Langston Hughes

Two People

Two People

She reads the paper,

while he turns on TV;

she likes the mountains,

he craves the sea.

He’d rather drive,

she’ll take the plane;

he waits for sunshine;

she walks in the rain.

He gulps down cold drinks,

she sips at hot;

he asks, ‘Why go?’

She asks, ‘Why not?’

In just about everything

they disagree,

but they love one another

and they both love me.

Eve Merriam

You Have a Body

You Have a Body

You have a body.

You’re not air.

You’re not just anywhere,

you’re THERE.

I suppose you might feel new with it,

wondering what you might do with it.

Those arms and legs

can be flung about.

You can walk

or run

or fall over

FLAT

which is, of course,

the problem with that.

You can breathe, you can gasp,

you can cough, sneeze or rasp.

You have fingers!

You can grasp!

And it’s all yours

to do what you want with,

to turn right round or

face the front with.

Or mostly yours,

though some of it belongs

to your mum and dad

to remind them of the bodies

they once had.

And yet it’s yours –

you’ll see it grow

though not so that

you ever know.

It’s fun, it’s great,

something you learn to operate.

Just pinch yourself and see.

Who is that? It’s YOU not me.

It’s yours to wear and yours to be.

And it comes free!

George Szirtes

Three Good Things

Three Good Things

At day’s end I remember

three good things.

Apples maybe – their skinshine smell

and soft froth of juice.

Water maybe – the pond in the park

dark and full of secret fish.

A mountain maybe – that I saw in a film,

or climbed last holiday,

and suddenly today it thundered up

into a playground game.

Or else an owl – I heard an owl today,

and I made bread.

My head is full of all these things,

it’s hard to choose just three.

I let remembering fill me up

with all good things

so that good things will overflow

into my sleeping self,

and in the morning

good things will be waiting

when I wake.

Jan Dean

The Cupboard

The Cupboard

I know a little cupboard,

With a teeny tiny key,

And there’s a jar of Lollipops

For me, me, me.

It has a little shelf, my dear,

As dark as dark can be,

And there’s a dish of Banbury Cakes

For me, me, me.

I have a small fat grandmamma,

With a very slippery knee,

And she’s Keeper of the Cupboard,

With the key, key, key

And when I’m very good, my dear,

As good as good can be,

There’s Banbury Cakes, and Lollipops

For me, me, me.

Walter de la Mare

BOY GIRL

BOY	GIRL
Boy	Girl
Garden	Gate
Standing	Kissing
Very	Late
Dad	Comes
Big	Boots
Boy	Runs
Girl	Scoots
Anon.

Isn’t My Name Magical?

Isn’t My Name Magical?

Nobody can see my name on me.

My name is inside

and all over me, unseen

like other people also keep it.

Isn’t my name magic?

My name is mine only.

It tells I am individual,

the only special person it shakes

when I’m wanted.

If I’m with hundreds of people

and my name gets called,

my sound switches me on to answer

like it was my human electricity.

Isn’t that magical?

My name echoes across playground,

it comes, it demands my attention.

I have to find out who calls,

who wants me for what.

My name gets blurted out in class,

it is a terror, at a bad time,

because somebody is cross.

My name gets called in a whisper

I am happy, because

my name may have touched me

with a loving voice.

Isn’t it all magic?

James Berry

Keeping Wicket

Keeping Wicket

When they were young,

She kept wicket for her brothers,

They batted,

Bowled,

Padded up

And ratcheted up the score.

She crouched behind the stumps

Keeping wicket.

She would have loved to bowl,

Just once to flick her wrist and watch the ball

Fly from her fingers, arcing through the air,

To hear the thwack of

Rubber on bamboo.

To not worry that the batsman might miss,

Or worse still get an edge.

She would have liked to bat,

To feel the jerk of willow in her hands

And watch the leather careering

Towards the boundary,

But she was too valuable a player,

To be put in to bat.

She had the best job, they said.

The wicket-keeper held the destiny of the team

In those thin gloves.

The wicket-keeper was the team’s protector.

A V.I.P.

So she crouched behind the stumps

Keeping wicket.

And when their mother developed

Into childhood,

Their diabetic father became an amputee,

They gave her the best job once again.

Her brothers were all busy at the crease,

So she crouched behind the stumps,

Keeping wicket.

She contemplated trying another game,

Was attracted to another life,

But though cricket is a man’s game,

No man it seems wants a wicket-keeper for a wife.

And when her parents passed,

She still played the game,

This time with nieces and nephews at the crease,

She had the best job once again,

Standing behind the stumps,

Keeping wicket.

Valerie Bloom

My Sister

My Sister

My sister’s remarkably light,

She can float to a fabulous height.

It’s a troublesome thing,

But we tie her with string,

And we use her instead of a kite.

Margaret Mahy

Middle Child

Middle Child

The piggy in the middle

The land between sky and sea

The cheese which fills the sandwich

The odd one out of three

The one who gets the hand-me-downs

And broken bits of junk

The follower, not the leader

The one in the bottom bunk

The one for whom the pressure’s off

The one who can run wild

The one who holds the balance of power

The lucky second child.

Lindsay MacRae

Siblings

Siblings

Like the Three Musketeers

we were all for one.

Like the Three Blind Mice

we saw without looking.

Like the Three Bowls of Porridge

we were just right.

Like the Three Sisters

we were sad inside.

Like the Three Billy Goats Gruff

we feared the troll.

Like the Three Little Pigs

we longed for our own home.

Like the Three Wishes

we were never enough.

Joseph Coelho

A Blessing

A Blessing

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,

Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.

And the eyes of those two Indian ponies

Darken with kindness.

They have come gladly out of the willows

To welcome my friend and me.

We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

Where they have been grazing all day, alone.

They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness

That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.

There is no loneliness like theirs.

At home once more,

They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.

I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,

For she has walked over to me

And nuzzled my left hand.

She is black and white,

Her mane falls wild on her forehead,

And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear

That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.

Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would break

Into blossom.

James Wright

Paintings that Move

Paintings that Move

Across the sand or through the gorse,

leaping over Aintree’s course

rides the wonder

called the Horse.

Royal duty, on parade,

gazing in a Sussex glade,

Gymkhana day

with tail of braid.

Plumed and brushed with chestnut sheen,

carries all from waif to queen,

and everyone

that’s in between.

Galloping with Mustang fire.

Steaming still in Highland byre.

Filly, stallion,

Shetland, Shire.

Hear its heart and kiss its chin,

stroke the mane

and smell the skin,

neighing poems from within.

Athlete, best friend, loping grace.

Pegasus that knows its place.

Servant of

the human race.

Stewart Henderson

Heroes

Heroes

Heroes are funny people, dey are lost an found

Sum heroes are brainy an sum are muscle-bound

Plenty heroes die poor an are heroes after dying

Sum heroes mek yu smile when yu feel like crying

Sum heroes are made heroes as a political trick

Sum heroes are sensible an sum are very thick!

Sum heroes are not heroes cause dey do not play de game

A hero can be young or old and have a silly name.

Drunks an sober types alike hav heroes of dere kind

Most heroes are heroes out of sight an out of mind,

Sum heroes shine a light upon a place where darkness fell

Yu could be a hero soon, yes, yu can never tell.

So if yu see a hero, better treat dem wid respect

Poets an painters say heroes are a prime subject,

Most people hav heroes even though some don’t admit

I say we’re all heroes if we do our little bit.

Benjamin Zephaniah

Cats

Cats sleep

Anywhere,

Any table,

Any chair,

Top of piano,

Window-ledge,

In the middle,

On the edge,

Open drawer,

Empty shoe,

Anybody’s

Lap will do,

Fitted in a

Cardboard box,

In the cupboard

With your frocks –

Anywhere!

They don’t care!

Cats sleep

Anywhere.

Eleanor Farjeon

Cat

My cat has got no name,

We simply call him Cat;

He doesn’t seem to blame

Anyone for that.

For he is not like us

Who often, I’m afraid,

Kick up quite a fuss

If our names are mislaid.

As if, without a name,

We’d be no longer there

But like a tiny flame

Vanish in bright air.

My pet, he doesn’t care

About such things as that:

Black buzz and golden stare

Require no name but Cat.

Vernon Scannell

Charlotte’s Dog

Daniel the spaniel has ears like rugs,

Teeth like prongs of electric plugs.

His back’s a thundery winter sky,

Black clouds, white clouds rumbling by.

His nose is the rubber of an old squash ball

Bounced in the rain. His tail you’d call

A chopped-off rope with a motor inside

That keeps it walloping. Red-rimmed-eyed,

He whimpers like plimsolls on a wooden floor.

When he yawns he closes a crimson door.

When he barks it’s a shark of a sound that bites

Through frosty mornings and icy nights.

When he sleeps he wheezes on a dozing lung:

Then he wakes you too with a wash of his tongue!

Kit Wright

Tell It to the Dog

If you have had

an awful day

and no one wants

to come and play

and all your woes

won’t go away,

just tell it to the dog.

If everybody

picks on you

and all your plans

have fallen through;

if you feel lonely,

sad and blue,

just tell it to the dog.

Dogs do not judge.

They understand.

They rub your leg.

They lick your hand.

If you feel lost

in no-man’s-land

just tell it to the dog.

Dogs keep your secrets

safe within.

They don’t care if

you lose or win.

So turn that frown

into a grin

and tell it to the dog!

(Or, failing that,

make do with the cat . . .)

Joshua Seigal

A Meerkat Lullaby

Hush pretty meerkitten don’t you cry

Mummy will sing you a lullaby

Daddy on guard, is standing near

Ready to bark should danger appear

His back is straight, his hindlegs long

His hearing acute, his eyesight strong

So go to sleep my little beauty

Safe with Daddy on sentry duty.

Roger McGough

Weird Wildlife

It’s a queer cat

Is the meerkat.

It cannot purr or miaow.

And how odd-ish

That no dogfish

Knows how to bow-wow-wow.

The ladybird

Is seldom heard

To tweet, and never sings.

And that wombat’s

Too round and fat

To be a mouse with wings.

There are no ants

Like eleph ants,

None even near their size.

And guinea pigs

Aren’t mini pigs

And don’t inhabit sties

While the mongoose

Is a wrong goose.

You’ll seldom see one fly.

And bushbabies

Are hushed babies

That hardly ever cry.

Nick Toczek

Mad Gardener’s Song

He thought he saw an Elephant,

That practised on a fife: