Poems suitable for reading by 8-9 year olds.
I Have a Bunch of Batteries
I have a bunch of batteries
I need to give away,
and if you’d like to have them,
you can get them all today.
I didn’t want to throw them out.
They’re yours to take instead.
I probably should warn you, though,
these batteries are dead.
I have a lot of tiny ones.
A few of them are large.
And you can have them all right now,
completely free of charge.
An Echo in My Room
There’s an echo, echo, echo,
in my room, my room today.
It’s an echo that I wish,
I wish, I wish would go away.
It’s a problem, it’s a problem,
for no matter what I do,
if I make a sound, a sound,
the echo, echo makes it too.
When this echo, echo, echo,
started, started yesterday,
I was not amused, was not amused.
It’s not okay, okay.
Now I must be silent, silent.
I’m afraid, afraid to speak.
If I’m talking, if I’m talking,
it might last, might last all week.
It’s annoying, but it seems, it seems,
it’s here, it’s here to stay.
It’s my parrot, it’s my parrot
saying everything I say.
One Warm, Sunny Day
One warm, sunny day
on a cold, snowy night,
the inky-black darkness
was sunny and bright.
The evening that morning–
that midnight at noon–
was late in December,
one April in June.
I stood where I sat
as I ran, lying still,
deep down in a valley
on top of a hill.
The people beside me
were nowhere around.
The birds in the sky were
all deep underground.
The fish in the tree
were asleep in their nest,
and watched the sun set
as it rose in the west.
Yes, that’s what I saw
when my eyes were closed tight,
one warm, sunny day
on a cold, snowy night.
My Brother Just Eats Candy
My brother just eats candy
and my sister just eats cakes.
The only thing my mother likes
are double-chocolate shakes.
My dad devours danishes
and donuts by the dozen.
My aunt and uncle live on pie
exactly like my cousin.
My grandpa and my grandma
just drink soda pop and punch.
My nephew and my niece
eat cookies every day for lunch.
And me, I’ll dine on any kind
of sugar-covered treat.
My family isn’t healthy, but
we sure are awfully sweet.
I Like Myself the Way I Am
I like myself the way I am.
I’m really glad I’m me.
In fact, I’m sure there’s no one else
on earth I’d rather be.
I’d rather not be someone else.
I wouldn’t want to switch,
unless they were more beautiful,
or powerful, or rich.
I only want to be myself.
To change would just be wrong,
except if they were super smart,
or muscular and strong.
Unless they were more talented,
or glamorous, or tall,
or popular, or interesting,
I’d never change at all.
Except if they were famous or
had won the lottery,
I’d like to stay the way I am.
I’m glad to just be me.
My Cat Knows Karate
My cat knows karate.
My frog knows kung fu.
My poodle knows judo.
My turtle does too.
They all became black belts
by watching TV;
some Chuck Norris movies,
and films with Bruce Lee.
They liked learning lessons
from Jean-Claude Van Damme,
and acting like action-film star
Jackie Chan.
They practiced their punches,
their blocks, and their kicks
until they were masters
of martial arts tricks.
You’d think they’d be good now
at guarding our house,
but, yesterday morning,
they ran from my mouse.
My mouse is a crack-up.
I laughed at his prank.
Do you think it’s weird that
my mouse drives a tank?
I Made a New Password
I made a new password
That no one could guess.
It’s long and confusing
And truly a mess.
It has random letters
and numbers galore,
with dozens of symbols
and spaces and more.
My password is perfect,
completely secure,
and no one will break it;
of that I am sure.
It’s flawless and foolproof.
I don’t have a doubt.
But, whoops! I forgot it
and now I’m locked out.
Rosy the Dozer
Rosy the Dozer
was driving one day
but didn’t see all
of the mud in her way.
So Rosy the Dozer
got stuck in the mud.
Her treads became crusty
and covered with crud.
She tried to get out
but her treads only spun.
“Oh dear,” muttered Rosy,
“This isn’t much fun.”
She let out a moan
and a sad little yelp,
then sat down and waited
for someone to help.
Grumpy the Dump Truck
came rumbling on by,
but said, “I can’t help you.
I’m sure you see why.
“My skill is in hauling
and dumping big loads
of dirt, rocks, and gravel,
for building new roads.”
Mimi the Steamroller
wandered by next.
She looked at the mud
but was plainly perplexed.
She said, “I’m an expert
at making things flat.
But pulling you out?
I can’t help you with that.”
Corky the Forklift
was next on the list.
He said, “I’m afraid
I’ve no way to assist.
“I’d help you to carry
a carton or crate.
But someone will help you.
You just need to wait.”
Then Cody the Tow Truck
saw Rosy was stuck.
He said, “I can help you
get out of that muck.
“That’s just what us tow trucks
are waiting to do.
There’s nobody better
to do this for you.”
So Cody the Tow Truck
helped Rosy get free,
and Rosy cried, “Thank you
for stopping for me.”
Now Rosy the Dozer
is someone who knows
to always be careful
wherever she goes.
She keeps her eyes open.
She watches for muck.
And that was the last time
she ever got stuck.
My Virtual Puppy
I purchased a virtual puppy.
He lives in an app on my phone.
He digs in a virtual garden
to bury a virtual bone.
I feed him with virtual dog food.
I’m teaching him virtual tricks,
like giving me virtual handshakes
and fetching his virtual sticks.
He naps on a virtual sofa.
He likes to chase virtual cats.
Whenever he’s good I reward him
with virtual dog treats and pats.
He’ll bring me the virtual paper.
He’ll chew on a virtual shoe.
There’s only one virtual problem.
I clean up his virtual poo.
Wendy Wise
There was a girl named Wendy Wise,
who didn’t like to exercise.
She wouldn’t ever lift a weight,
or skip a rope, or roller skate.
You’d never see her ride a bike,
or bounce a ball, or take a hike.
She wouldn’t run, or trot, or jog,
or go outside and walk the dog.
She wouldn’t skip or climb a hill,
or practice any kind of skill
like jumping rope or playing ball.
She wouldn’t exercise at all.
It’s no surprise that Wendy Wise,
who didn’t like to exercise,
would pass away one fateful day,
and in a rather tragic way.
You see, that day, up in the sky,
a tiny bird was flying by.
It lost a feather, small and brown,
that slowly, slowly, drifted down,
and landed right on Wendy’s head.
It knocked her down and killed her dead.
She was, it seems, so frail and weak,
with such a sickly, sad physique
that, when that feather touched her hair,
it did her in, right then and there.
Poor Wendy! What an awful shame.
If only she had played a game,
or went outside to run around,
or practiced jumping up and down,
or had a swim, or took a dive,
today she might still be alive.
Regrettably, it’s now too late,
and Wendy Wise has met her fate.
But I, my friend, would much prefer
that you do not end up like her.
So please go out and play a game,
because, you see, despite her name,
to never, ever exercise
like Wendy, isn’t very wise.
