There once was a girl in my class
Who loved rolling ’round in the grass.
With leaves in her hair
She would crawl here and there
Her life was a whimsical farce.
The teacher would holler and flail.
“It’s silly! It’s nuts!” he would rail.
“Why do you revert
To wriggling in dirt?”
“Because,” said the girl, “I’m a snail.”
Image from Deposit Photos © avemario 2016
There once was a hedgehog called Stu
Who lived in a plastic canoe.
I asked, “Is it tough
When the waters are rough?”
He said, “If my spines don’t poke through!”
Image altered from Deposit Photos. Original Image insima © 2014
Figurative Language Version:
Sometimes our trains don’t come when they are planned.
They may be late or may not come at all.
Sometimes they don’t take passengers. They strand
Their customers along the platform wall.
This happens, too, with buses, trams and planes,
And when it happens it may make you mad.
When things don’t come on time it surely strains
And stresses us; it makes us feel quite bad.
If things are late, it causes quite a fuss,
If you feel angry, that is quite okay.
Instead, you could use taxis or a bus,
Or take a train that’s later in the day.
Plain Language Version:
Sometimes, trains don’t arrive when they are supposed to. They may be late, or they may not come at all. Sometimes they arrive, but they can’t pick up any passengers because there is some sort of problem.
Sometimes these things also happen with buses, planes and trams.
When your train (or bus, plane or tram) doesn’t pick you up on time, you might feel very annoyed or angry. It is okay to feel annoyed or angry.
Try and remember that there will be other ways to get to where you’re going. Maybe you can catch the next train, or take a taxi.
Image altered from Deposit Photos. Original Image tovovan_ © 2013
Dear Mom, I have some information that is rather grave.
I got it in a very urgent call.
The hospital laboratory said I must be brave,
In order to avoid demise and pall.
The doctor on the line said, “I have never seen a list
Of triggers and of risk factors like yours.”
I’ll save you all the details Mum, I’ll just tell you the gist:
He’s said that I’ve got allergies. To chores.
“No dishes,” he commanded. “No laundry,” he prescribed.
I’m sure you’ll see that this affliction stinks.
“No vacuuming,” I promised. “No mops,” I sadly sighed.
“No cleaning up of toilets or of sinks.”
I know the outlook’s dreadful, whatever shall we do?
I’ll miss the mowing, polishing, the broom.
I ‘spose that’s it for me, Mum, I’m feeling extra blue,
You’ll find me watching TV in my room.
Figurative Language Version:
In rain or snow it’s nice to know exactly how to dress.
We might need an umbrella to stay dry.
There’s special rules and fancy tools that help the scientists guess
If there’ll be rain or hail or clear blue sky.
To our delight, they’re mostly right, it helps us pick our pants:
In sunny weather—short; on cold days—long.
But science, too, like me and you, when guessing in advance
Can sometimes make predictions that are wrong.
When forecasts err, our rage may stir. We may get very mad.
It may have made us cold or very hot.
A rain surprise, while not from lies, may make us wet and sad.
We may feel quite deceived but we were not.
When what was forecast turns out wrong, we’ll breathe and let it out.
We may feel quite annoyed and that’s okay.
Like us, the scientists made mistakes, of that there is no doubt,
We’ll just hope that they’re right on other days.
Plain Language Version:
We like knowing what the weather is going to be like.
If it’s going to be very hot or very cold, we might want to wear special clothes. If it is going to be rainy, we might want to take an umbrella.
To help us know what the weather is going to be, scientists make predictions about the weather.
Usually, their predictions are right, but sometimes they are wrong.
If the prediction is wrong, we might wear clothes that don’t suit the weather. We might get too hot, too cold, or wet. This can be very annoying.
When the scientists do make a mistake, we have to try and be a bit flexible. We may need to take a breath to feel calm again. We will hope they’re right next time.
It’s rare to see unbridled glee but there’s a special time
That children’s faces sparkle, full of joy
It’s all the rage for every age, it doesn’t cost a dime,
Absurdly fun for every girl and boy.
It happens when it rains and then on pavers, paths and tiles
Sit puddles, cold and wet, their beckon wry.
With rainboots on they yell, “come on!” and jump with cheers and smiles
The splashes barely missing passersby.
Now humans all, both big and small, will find it quite a treat
To jump and splash and play a little more.
Don’t fear the crud, the cold and mud, or getting soggy feet
Because that, my friend, is what rainboots are for!
If you’re like me and sometimes you have quite unlucky days,
You may have been bombarded by a bird.
It may have been quite sticky, and dribbled down your front:
It’s often an extraordinary turd.
It may have been bad luck, and you may be simply cursed,
It may have had no reason and no rhyme.
But I think that your doo-dooing was part of an event.
I think that it was Bird Pooplympics time.
The Annual Bird Pooplympics are quite a fun affair.
They start with Bird Poo races (always fun).
The next event’s my favourite—the Synchronised Release
Where poops land in a pattern, one-by-one.
Of course there’s Bird Poop Hurdles—where birds must duck and weave,
Leaving little turds along the way.
However, it’s the Archery where all the birds take aim
At you and me, to decimate our day.
So when the next white dribble falls upon your lap,
Don’t shake your head, complain, or start to cry!
Yell at the offender. Shake your angry fists.
Shout “Do Pooplympics elsewhere!!” at the sky.