Upon her own pedestal Is where she sat Not down on earth She was too good for that She’s never wrong just ask her

His pencil would not write No matter how much he would scold… “It’s not about the pencil boy” “It’s about the one who holds it”

I let the cat out To explore the yard It scratched at the fence But the fence was to hard It laid about then swallowed

I climbed up a tree once Just to look out I sat and I watched As a bird flew about I looked down to notice

Martin J, Martin J Simply loved the month of May March and April were to grey And nothing compared To his month of May

This poems the worst Nothing like the first My ideas are scattered about And the pages run out I’ve got better things to do

If you walk past me Oh, the things you would not know There’s plenty of stories and tale… If you stop to say hello

he came in guns waving “everyone get down” but when they all started dancing he left with just a frown

Jessey caught the measels Joey caught the mumps Jane came down with the flu And jacks been in a slump The teacher has gone missing

Little sneezing Cynthia Never covered her mouth She would sneeze oh so loud It could be heard clear down south Her sneezing startled the neighbor…

The pop gun out law rode from town to town on his steed he’d ride wearing his hat like a crown his name they would call

They say if you shoot for the moon… You’ll just end up in the stars... But if stars are just burning gas The chances are you won’t get far.…

If red means anger And blue is sad White is pureness And yellow is glad What does orange mean

I always tuck my tongues Down into my socks I wouldn’t want them to scrape the… And have to taste the rocks I look out for my shoes

On a bench in the park sat a man dressed in grey feeding the seagulls that flew in from the bay he wished he could glide