Art-Work

My sister is painting a picture –

it’s something that she likes to do –

of rainbows and puppies and fairies,

using handfuls of green-pea goo.

 

She’s smearing the stuff on her high chair

so her fingers are turning quite green.

There are dribbles of glop in her eyebrows and ears;

it’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.

 

I cry to my mother “please stop her!”

but mom is too busy to care.

So sissy starts wiping the slop on her bib

and her arms and her legs and her hair.

 

I think that my stomach’s revolting

I can’t wait until she’s all done.

But she’s cooing and laughing and

splashing and such . . .

So I might as well join in the fun.

 

The Watch Cat

Don’t be deceived

by the fuzzy disguise,

the curled up paws

and the lazy eyes–

She’s on patrol.

 

Her ears are keen

You can’t pass by

and not be seen.

 

She guards my house.

She lays quite still. Her

purr disguises the

mind of a killer.

 

She looks asleep

but she’s very alert.

So walk like a cat

and no one gets hurt.

 

Piano Practice

I’ve played these notes six zillion times

and now I hate this song.

I practice, practice, practice

and still I get it wrong.

 

I think my piano hates my guts

and won’t cooperate.

Its notes are sharp or flat or strange,

its tempo’s always late.

 

I think I will become unglued,

my nerves are quite unsteady.

My brain has turned to tapioca

my fingers to spaghetti.

 

But I am not allowed outside

till my rehearsal’s done.

So I sit down and start to play

number six zillion and one.

 

A Weblog From Mr. Willy

Wanted y’all to know, I’m going to publish some stories on here.

Keep an eye out. . . .