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Child In the Adult - Adult in the Child

The GoosGog

 One day, a long, long, long, long, longlong time ago

Past the bottom of our garden

At the end of our wood,

At the end of the world

Lived the GoosGog.


Ugly, scaryhairy, squashy and green,

The most famous eater of children

The world had ever seen.


He loved their sweet young flavour

But ballooned a bloated tum

And the temper tantrums lengthened

On his long, foul smelling tongue


In the end he couldn’t move

Only weaker did he grow

But no one cried when GoosGog died

They were glad to see him go.


And he’s long, long, longgone Mummy

How scared should I really be?


The worlds still full of Gooseberries,

My friends all love ice cream,

So buy the lot and serve them hot

We’ll eat him up for tea!

Green Texture

Croc Shock

A croc just ate my frock, It really was a shock.

Regurgitated out past a very long, sharp snout.

I can’t believe my luck that inside nothing stuck.

And if you ask if crocs are gay?

Without a doubt I’ll shout it out,

That their most definitely not!

Though, having said that perhaps not not.

Guess what’s landed with a thud in the stomach heaving mud?

Is it male or female croc in a skirt that simply rocks?

We will have to wait and see if you can bare to wait for tea?

And though I’m sure the look would look much better off on me,

Up a tree is where I really want to be.


Not A Lot To Ask

Yes, it is a lot to ask

To stand still for just a minute

Keep arms down by my side

Stop everything I’m doing


I’ll stand still, start pretending

That I’m praying for the soldiers

While my nose has started itching

And my feet are getting colder


As I look up at my grown-up

Pull their coat to get attention

Like the pull cord in our bathroom

No one’s home, the light’s not working


I’m so bored, is it over?

Been here hours, not a minute

Got no iPhone, I’m so hungry

And I really have to go now!

Maybe memorise a poem

That will last for just a minute

Perform it for the school

On stage next month at Christmas

But it’s not about me is it?

There were children in the poppies

If I get to be a grown-up

I will tell one child this poem

So, thank you for my freedom

And the chance in just a minute

Every year to bring them back home

In the minds of all the living


No, it’s not a lot to ask

To stand still for just a minute

Lay my arms down by my side

And stop everything I’m doing!

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