Strange poems, weird rhymes, weird poems and strange rhymes

I dedicate this page to the deceased small furry creatures that adorned my doorstep, having popped their clogs via the medium of my cat. My last memory of those creatures was when I grabbed the shovel and whacked them into the air, watching their carcasses plummet into an overgrown patch at the vicarage, from whence they originated. It was a moving experience -- well, it moved the creatures. I also dedicate this page to Rachel (whom I have never whacked with a shovel).

The worm can turn
The worm can turn;
Haven't you heard?
When you think upon it
It seems absurd:
Worms can turn near;
Worms can turn far:
It really depends
On where they are.
Worms are turning
Everywhere.
One may be turning
In your hair.
Worms in an apple
Find turning hell:
'Cause apples are hard,
They can't turn very well.

Moose
A moose is like a bull on stilts
With a silly kind of head.
And if one of them sat on you
You'd probably be dead.

They grow to 7 feet in height,
Or something rather near,
And if you threw beer onto them
Then they would smell of beer.

Un-Vegetarian
Oh, I'm an un-vegetarian:
I love to eat real meat.
I'd rather eat a roasted lamb
Than stuff that's made of wheat.

I shape my beef as carrots,
Make chicken look like peas;
I flavor it to taste like them
To hide carnivorous needs.

Turtle
Last night I saw a turtle;
It looked like a grenade.
I picked it up and threw it.
No explosion was made.

Pot Smoker (to the tune of 'Big Spender')
The minute you walked in with a joint,
I could tell that you were high on some resin; a real pot smoker.
Good deal; well refined.
You look like that stuff blew your mind.
So let me get right to the point:
I don't flip with normal passive smoke I breathe.
Hey, pot smoker!
Smoke a little pot with me.

Reincarnation?
If reincarnation
Really is true,
Not lies made by a deceiver,
Then why does nobody
Ever remember
A life where they were an amoeba?

Worms
Worms are skinny,
Worms are fat,
They live in the ground,
They live in the cat.
Some can swim;
None can fly.
Chop them in half
And they multiply.
They have no legs,
They cannot frown,
They don't have necks,
And they can't sit down.
To sum up their use
In a few choice words:
They aerate the soil
And feed the birds.

Once 'upon' a time
Once upon a time,
There sat
A rather small,
Demented cat.

It choked upon a prawn
One night,
And toppled off the time
In fright.

Flattened
The story that is told
By a severely flattened toad,
Is of evidential failure
In attempts to cross the road.

Introduction
The other day I introduced
A bunny to some lead.
I guess it didn't like it:
Because it fell down dead.
Perhaps the introduction
Was forced just a trifle:
At one thousand miles per hour
From the barell of my rifle.

The bee
A bee flew by
And hit my eye,
Yesterday, at twelve.
I wish it had been quicker,
As I can't think of anything to rhyme with twelve.

Lamentation for the snail I stepped on
Thou doth creep within the night;
Damp ground and air to aid thy flight.
The darkness keepeth thee from sight,
While on my lettuce thou doth bite
And drape with slime.

But thou hast crept too stealthily;
And was not this the death of thee?
For though it was too dark to see,
A noise could have prevented me
From crushing thee last night.

Oh dear...
The ending of the floor
Has caught me unawares.
This must be the reason
Why I'm falling down the stairs.

Capital Sounds
Who could have thought that here
Such delight can be found?
On the causeway of St. Michael's Mount:
Where cars run over whelks
And make such splendid popping sounds.

Appreciation
Without you I cannot live.
Without you I cannot breathe.
You have a place within me
Where I'll never let you leave.
Without you I would be just like
A ladder without rungs.
That's how much I need you,
My dearest, dearest lungs.

Tortoise
Have you ever sniffed a tortoise,
Or tasted one that's fried?
Of course you may have said you did;
But then you may have lied.

Exuberance
There's no spectacle, I'm sure,
That can fill a man with glee,
Such as forty plastic pelicans
Floating in the sea.

Wasp
O wasp upon my window sill,
How dull thy once dread sting!
Thy presence brought foreboding
Of the pain which thou couldst bring;
And this caused me to cudgel thee,
Thou wretched, wretched thing.

Malaria
I am a protozoa:
Behold my polar rings!
I luncheon on red blood cells,
And do some wicked things.

I am Apicomplexa,
A parasitic breed.
You know me as malaria,
And I am vile indeed.

Dead flies
Dead flies
Window currents
Once had headaches from
Misunderstanding of glass

Without buzz
Blown away
With the breeze
Too late the window opened

Black things
Crunchy things
Filthy things
I'll fetch the vacuum cleaner

Chickens
Chickens look peculiar,
They feed on worms and seed,
We eat so many of them
It's a wonder they can breed.

They scratch and cluck and peck all day,
Or sit there laying eggs,
They haven't got the faintest clue
That people eat their legs.

Chickens are all feathery,
They strut about with pride,
You couldn't eat a raw one,
But they're great Kentucky-fried.

Although chickens have got wings,
No-one lets them fly,
Instead we make them run around
'Cause we like chicken thigh.

Chickens in the chicken-hut,
Chickens in the yard,
You can eat most of them,
But their beaks are pretty hard.

Insane mumblings of the aged
"Nothing makes one's curtains sag
Like chickens in a plastic bag;"
Or so my Grandmother would say
Each Thursday in the month of may,
At half-past-ten or five-to-two,
And sometimes on a Friday too.
She'd say the most peculiar things
Like, "horses make good curtain rings",
And, "if you find a mole that's dead
Then throw it underneath your bed:
As this will bring good luck to you,
And make your old things turn to new".
She said this sort of thing a lot,
And I knew she was talking rot;
But if I were to say "You're wrong"
She'd talk about it all day long.

Monkeys
On safari out in Africa,
When I was just a child,
We shot a monkey every day,
It used to drive them wild.

"May I shoot a monkey?"
Was what everybody said.
One couldn't find another
Who did not want monkeys dead.

But when one shoots a monkey
One should really comprehend:
That monkeys don't like being shot,
It drives them 'round the bend.

So after several months of
Shooting monkeys every day,
We realised quite suddenly
We'd blown the lot away.

Far and wide we searched for some,
But, alas, all were dead.
And we didn't have a thing to do
So we shot frogs instead.

De-cankering the cat
Oh dear, the cat has canker;
It's really rather foul.
Go and fetch the ear drops
And I shall fetch the towel.

Now, when the cat is sleeping
(We must get this just right)
Do not go too near its head
Or it's likely to bite.

I'll stroke it and say "Dear old puss",
Then place the towel on it,
And quickly wrap the cat up tight
Before it has a fit.

Put the drops into its ears
While I hold the towel firm;
And do try not to take too long
As it will hiss and squirm.

A paw may manage to escape
And if it does so, run!
I'd rather not have scratches
Than have scratches and have won.

The cat will hate us for a while,
And look at us with spite,
But I think a large bowl of fish
Will set everything right.