A Collection of Children's Poems

My brother ate a planet
I confess it was bizarre,
He consumed a couple comets
Then he gobbled up a star.

He was positively peckish
On an eating escapade,
So he slurped a supernova
With a glass of lemonade.

He absorbed the solar system
With extraordinary haste,
For an interstellar supper
Couldn't satisfy his taste.

He progressed with pure precision
As I witnessed with dismay,
How he swallowed in a second
The entire Milky Way.

Soon he guzzled every galaxy
They never stood a chance,
And were powerless to halt
His astronomical advance.

Not a particle was pardoned
In accordance with his plan,
He ingested every object
In a million light-year span.

All the damage he inflicted
I can't possibly reverse,
I should not have chosen candy
For my model universe.

© 2007 John Brassey

I'm sinking I'm sinking
I've spotted a leak,
My boat is submerging
My future is bleak.
I'm losing momentum
And starting to slug,
I've spotted more holes
Than I'll possibly plug.

I'm sinking I'm sinking,
I'm simply aghast,
I'm taking on water
And taking it fast.
Although I've used buckets
A mop, and a sponge,
I fear that I'm facing
A permanent plunge.

I'm sinking I'm sinking
I'm barely afloat,
For water has filled
My unfortunate boat.
It burst through the bottom
And flooded the deck,
I'm standing in ocean
That's up to my neck.

I'm sinking I'm sinking
I'm losing my grip,
I'm sensing it's time
To abandon the ship.
I'm quickly concluding
The oceans and seas,
Don't mix with a mouse
In a boat of Swiss cheese.

© 2007 John Brassey

I don't think there is a writer out there, whether of fiction, poetry, or other forms, that has not experienced writer's block at some point. The kind of writer's block I'm talking about here is when, in the process of writing, a writer is unable to keep going, rather than the inability to produce new work all together. When I'm writing kids poems, I often experience a sense of stop and start. Some of my verses seem to appear fully formed in my head, while others take hours, days, or even weeks and months to finish. When I encounter the latter type of verse, I usually end up getting stuck on one or two words that I can't seem to get right. To get around this feeling of writer's block, I use a technique that allows me to keep my ideas going.
When I experience writer's block while writing kids poems, I use a filler word or words so I can continue writing. A filler word is just a placeholder, a word I know I'm not going to use, so that I don't get stuck on a couple of words and lose the momentum of my ideas. The filler word should mean what you want to say, but it is not the exact word you are going to use in the poem. When I'm writing a poem by hand, which is my usual practice, I circle the filler word to remind myself that it is simply a placeholder and move on to another line or verse. If I'm typing a poem, I will bold the filler word and move on. I find this technique very helpful because by not having to stop at every word that gives me trouble, I can get on paper everything that is in my head. Editing and revision come after you have your ideas down on paper. If you try to get every word perfect the first time, which is of course impossible, it is much easier to lose your train of thought, and the writing process as a whole will be much slower. First get your ideas out on paper and only then should you go back with your thesaurus and rhyming dictionary and replace your filler words. Writers block can happen to any writer at any time, but by using filler words, you can be ready when it occurs.

I see a ducky on the street,
Here comes a car... he's duck concrete.

© 2002 John Brassey

One day while at the table
My poor pasta went insane,
I jumped back in complete surprise
In time to save my brain.

I don't know what compelled me
On this day to eat such food,
And I can't see why my pasta
Is in such a crumby mood.

My pasta wants to eat me!
I just felt its piercing jaws,
And I noticed on its noodles
Is a pair of shining claws.

I now turn and face the villain
It is time that we both meet,
I must grab a fork and knife
And it's the pasta that I'll eat.

© 2002 John Brassey

I have just begun to notice
That among the tips of gray,
Is a spot in which my hair
Has gotten up and walked away.

But it really made me nervous
When my length began to lack,
And it started falling faster
Then it managed to grow back.

I'm convinced I must have fainted
When exactly as I'd feared,
Yet another clump went missing
But it never reappeared.

I can sense my ego sinking
It will turn to nothing soon,
As it rapidly reduces
Like a shriveling balloon.

While my comb over was clever
I received a big surprise,
When the hair that I was using
Vanished right before my eyes.

But if I can grow the back out
I might minimize the pain,
For a plentiful posterior
Makes a most impressive mane.

Once again my scheme was thwarted
When I couldn't well ignore,
That the last of my hair wasn't
Where it used to be before.

So at last I am defeated,
My condition seems adverse,
But I shouldn't plan on pouting
Things could certainly be worse.

© 2005 John Brassey

There's a spider in the shower
There's a squirrel in the sink,
There's a turtle in the toilet
And I think he's turning pink.

There's a creature on the counter
That I've never seen before...
I won't ever wander in the
Women's bathroom anymore.

© 2007 John Brassey

Since I'm a writer, and especially since I write kids poems on some ridiculous topics, people often ask me where I get my ideas. I sometimes ask myself the same question. How do I come up with such weird stuff? After a while it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to figure out where and when I was getting my best ideas, and try to replicate that situation as often as I could.
Over time, I've found that I get most of my ideas when lingering in that place between sleeping and being awake. Anymore, I keep an idea journal on my headboard so that as soon as I get a good idea, or even a really weird idea, I grab my pencil and write it down. When I know that I don't have to get up early in the morning, I'll try to stay in that state where I'm not really asleep and I'm not really awake for as long as I can. I think that when I'm in this state of mind, where I don't have to worry about what happened during the day, or all the things I have to get done tomorrow, I come up with my best material. One of the reasons I think this works for me is because I'm not trying to force ideas out of myself during this period. That is a really important point to remember. I'm just sort of laying their thinking about whatever, and all of a sudden I'll realize that what I'm thinking about would make a great poem and I'll write it down. There's no pressure to produce and my mind is not preoccupied with stressful thoughts. This is when I feel most free, and, coincidentally, when I get my best ideas.
My advice to other writers is to first find the time that you feel you come up with your best stuff. I'll almost guarantee that if you sit back and think about your everyday patterns, you'll realize when you tend to get your ideas. Then it's just a matter of putting yourself in that state as often as you can. The most important thing is that you find what works for you. When you finally find that place where you don't have to force material out of yourself, you'll find that your ideas come a lot faster.

When shopping I'm clearly
Uncommonly keen,
A mindless, meticulous,
Market machine.

For bargains, a rebate,
A discounted shirt,
I'm always emphatically
On the alert.

Just name the location
You're likely to find,
I'm skittishly shopping
With nothing in mind.

I twirl my purse
In the palm of my hand,
And flippantly frolic
While checking each brand.

Unhindered I hasten
And promptly proceed,
To purchase substantially
More than I need.

Although I submit
And incessantly splurge,
I cannot contain
My inflexible urge.

In view of the fact
I'm incurably caught,
I might as well squander
And spend what I've got.

© 2005 John Brassey