Reading Level: Grade 1

Poems suitable for reading by 6-7 year olds.

Hickory, Dickory, Dock

Hickory, dickory, dock.
Two mice ran up the clock.
The clock struck one.
Enjoy the pun.
Hickory, dickory, dock.

The Tighty-Whitey Spider

the-tighty-whitey-spider

The tighty-whitey spider went down the waterslide.
Got a water wedgie halfway down the ride.
Jumped up and screamed and ran around in pain.
Now the tighty-whitey spider will not do that again.

Ferret Soccer

Ferret Soccer

Ferret soccer!
Ferret soccer!
Come with me.
Let’s go see.
I have heard that, mainly,
ferrets play insanely.
That sound great!
I can’t wait!

Ferret soccer.
Ferret soccer.
There’s a kick,
hard and quick.
Aiming at the goalie,
but he’s moving slowly.
Hit his snout.
Knocked him out!

Ferret soccer.
What a shocker.
Holy cow!
What’s up now?
Took a new approach and
aimed it at the coach and
he’s out cold.
That was bold!

Ferret soccer.
Off their rocker.
This is bad.
They’ve gone mad.
Sending balls a-flying.
Audience is crying.
Got us too.
Big boo hoo.

Game is over.
Game is over.
Ferrets win.
See them grin.
That was such a thrill. Hey,
I can’t wait until they
play again.
Let’s go then.

Get Me Out of the Fish Tank

Get me out of the fish tank.
Get me out of this bowl.
I was just trying to catch the fish.
They looked tempting and awfully delish
but I slipped and fell in the fish tank
and now my future looks grim.
I just went to see and found out something:
Cat’s don’t swim.

Won’t you give me a hand here?
All I need is a lift.
Help and I promise I won’t come back.
I’ll go elsewhere when I need a snack,
for I’ve learned a valuable lesson;
I know it’s not safe in here,
and the next time I want the fish I’ll bring
scuba gear!

Gerbil, Gerbil, On the Run

gerbil-gerbil-on-the-run

Gerbil, gerbil, on the run
in your wheel, that looks like fun.
You must be in awesome shape.
Are you trying to escape?

Is that why you dug a hole?
Where’d you get that vaulting pole?
That looks like my grappling hook.
Give me back that rope you took.

Tell me what that ladder’s for.
Why’s that hacksaw on the floor?
Are those cable cutters there?
Do I see a signal flare?

Crowbar, blowtorch, chainsaw too?
What do you expect to do?
How’d you get that fuse to light?
Hey! That looks like dynamite!

Quick! Get out! It might explode!
Scram! Skedaddle! Hit the road!
Man, I’ll miss you. You were fun.
Gerbil, gerbil, on the run.

An Awesome Opposum

An awesome opposum
with stripes on his fur
ran past me this morning,
a bit of a blur.

It wasn’t because
he was speedy, I fear.
My glasses were dirty.
Oh, look, he’s still here.

Whenever Yaks Play Basketball

Whenever yaks play basketball
it isn’t any fun at all.
Their games are always such a snore.
They never shoot. They never score.

It seems they don’t enjoy the sport.
They never run around the court.
Instead they simply settle back
and yak, and yak, and yak, and yak.

Kitten Fight

My cat had kittens recently.
Her litter’s awfully cute.
I like to watch them wrestling.
I think it’s such a hoot.

Her litter like to roll around.
They like to scratch and bite.
They kick each other constantly.
It’s fun to watch them fight.

But, even so, I’ll pick them up
and put them all to bed
the minute they start punching
one another in the head.

I’m not concerned her kittens
couldn’t take a couple knocks.
It’s just that I don’t like to watch
her kitty litter box.

I Think, ACHOO!, I Have the Flu

I think, ACHOO!, I have the flu.
I’m sneezing, and ACHOO! ACHOO!
I’m not sure what, ACHOO!, to do.
You say, ACHOO!, don’t sneeze on you?
ACHOO! Whoops. Now you’ve got it too.

Please Don’t Read This Poem

please-dont-read-this-poem

Please don’t read this poem.
It’s only meant for me.
That’s it. Just move along now.
There’s nothing here to see.

Besides, I’m sure you’d rather
just go outside and play.
So put the poem down now
and slowly back away.

Hey, why are you still reading?
That isn’t very nice.
I’ve asked you once politely.
Don’t make me ask you twice.

I’m telling you, it’s private.
Do not read one more line.
Hey! That’s one more. Now stop it.
This isn’t yours; it’s mine.

You’re not allowed to read this.
You really have to stop.
If you don’t quit this instant,
I swear I’ll call a cop.

He’ll drag you off in handcuffs.
He’ll lock you up in jail,
and leave you there forever
until you’re old and frail.

Your friends will all forget you.
You won’t be even missed.
Your family, too, will likely
forget that you exist.

And all because you read this
instead of having fun.
It’s too late now, amigo;
the poem’s nearly done.

There’s only one solution.
Here’s what you’ll have to do:
Tell all your friends and family
they shouldn’t read it too.