Reading Level: Grade 4

Poems suitable for reading by 9-10 year olds.

I Rode a Rainbow Unicorn

I rode a rainbow unicorn.
We sailed across the sky.
(I’d fed him lots of Skittles,
since they always make him fly.)

We took off like a comet
on a long and graceful flight.
And everywhere the people stopped
and marveled at the sight.

His path was bright and colorful.
It sparkled, shimmered, shined,
as he arced across the heavens
shooting rainbows from behind.

The Games in My Room

the-games-in-my-room

The video games that
I keep in my room,
like Tetris, Terraria,
Minecraft, and Doom,
and one about somebody
raiding a tomb,
and one with invaders from space…

They’re up on the dresser
and down on the floor.
The Legend of Zelda
and Street Fighter IV,
and Roblox, and Pac Man,
and Fortnite, and more,
are scattered all over the place.

There’s Sonic the Hedgehog
and Dragon Ball Z,
and Mario Party,
and Madden for Wii,
and FIFA 18 for the
Playstation 3.
They’re littered and strewn all around.

There’s Kidz Sports and Kirby
and Kingdom Hearts II,
Jurassic Park, Jeopardy,
Just Dance Wii U,
and don’t forget Pokemon
Red, Green, and Blue,
all over my desk and the ground.

They’re under my bed
in a battered old box.
They’re tossed in the closet
with Legos and blocks.
They’re stuffed in a drawer
with my undies and socks.
They’re thrown around every which way.

It’s kind a problem.
It’s sort of a shame.
It’s clearly my fault.
No one else is to blame.
The game I can’t locate
is always the same…
it’s the one that I’m wanting to play.

Emilio, Emilio

emilio

Emilio, Emilio,
was never one to stealio,
but had no meat
or bread to eat.
Not even an apple peelio.

Emilio, Emilio,
he got his rod and reelio,
to catch some fish
to fill his dish,
but all he caught were eelio.

Emilio, Emilio,
did not like eating eelio.
He sold them to
a merchant who
gave him an awesome dealio.

Emilio, Emilio,
at last I can revealio,
bought lots of meat
and bread to eat,
and a fancy new automobilio.

Inside Our Fridge

Inside our fridge there’s still a smidge
of old and moldy ham.
And, next to it, there’s quite a bit
of dried-up, fried-up Spam.

The bacon in the crisper bin
has been there much too long.
The sausage links have such a stink.
Their smell is simply wrong.

The ribs and roast are both the most
disgusting ever seen.
Yes, every piece has rancid grease
and spots of bluish-green.

We left it there without a care
for weeks, or months, or years.
Now all this rotten food we’ve got
is bringing us to tears.

I guess we should have understood
it must be eaten quick.
And if we wait till it’s too late,
it might just make us sick.

But now this meat — too old to eat,
too fossilized to fork,
from long before the dinosaurs —
is all Jurassic Pork.

I Fix My Duck with Duct Tape

I fix my duck with duct tape
when she breaks. That’s what I do.
If my gorilla has a crack
I use Gorilla Glue.

My monkey needs a monkey wrench
just every now and then.
And chicken wire is what I use
to mend my broken hen.

For snails, I use nails,
and, for penguins, I use pins.
For fish, I’m fond of fish paste
for fixing fractured fins.

So bring your broken beasts;
I’ll give them tender loving care,
and make them good as new at my
stuffed animal repair.

Candy Love

Chocolate assortments
and little pink hearts.
Hershey’s Kiss Roses
and sour SweeTarts.

All of these candies
arrived with some cards,
sending me mushy
romantic regards.

Valentine’s Day,
what a troublesome date.
Don’t like the cards,
but the candy is great!

I Met a Lonely Octopus

i-met-a-lonely-octopus

I met a lonely octopus
while sitting on a docktopus
and he began to talktopus
and this is what he said:

“Hello, my name is Jacquestopus.
I’d like to take a walktopus
perhaps around the blocktopus
or to the park instead.”

I didn’t mean to gawktopus,
but I was in such shocktopus
to meet a talking octopus,
I must have lost my head.

It seems I socked poor Jacquestopus
and knocked him off the docktopus,
and so that talking octopus
got fairly scared, and fled.

I hope someday that Jacquestopus
forgives me for the socktopus
and comes back to the docktopus
where he can meet my croctopus
who says his name is Fred.

Dear Santa, Did You Get My Tweet?

Dear Santa, did you get my tweet
of presents I would think are sweet?
And what about my Facebook post
of toys and stuff I want the most?

Dear Santa, did you read my blog?
That’s where I keep a running log
of all the times that I’ve been good
and doing things I know I should.

I hope you saw my Instagram,
my email wasn’t flagged as spam,
you’ve seen my YouTube channel too
and all my texts have made it through.

Wait, does the North Pole even get
computers and the Internet?
I hope it does. I mean, it better,
or I might have to write a letter.

Santa Brought a Bar of Soap

Santa brought a bar of soap.
I asked him for a phone, but nope.
I didn’t get that brand new phone.
Just soap, and fancy French cologne.
He also brought some new shampoo,
some shower gel, and toothpaste too,
a scented candle for my room,
a dozen bottles of perfume,
deodorant and body spray…
I wonder what he’s trying to say?