Coolhead Luke – children's humor poetry Funny poems, drawings and poetry books, games and puzzles for children

Here are three poems from our latest book: On The Edge With Coolhead Luke:

How Snake Babies are Born

Not with a sigh

Nor with a cry

Not with a groan

Nor with a moan

Not with a slurp

Nor with a chirp

But with a burp!

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Invitation to a Ghoulfest

Witches, warlocks, goblins and ghosts

answer this call from your hideous hosts.

 

Come to our Halloween Ghoulfest and be

startled by specters that jump from a tree,

skeleton bones coming out of the ground

and slippery creepers that slither around.

 

We live on an inland that’s somewhat remote

and reached by a bridge, for there isn’t a boat.

The night will be cold and the air will be thick;

be careful, the footpath is slimy and slick.

 

The ghouls will be there and will want you to play.

We’re confident you won’t be stolen away

by wizards and lizards that hide in the night

or linger in bushes just out of your sight.

 

At dinner you’ll join in the slurping of brew

and feasting upon our delectable stew

of dragon tongue, newt eye and talon of owl;

a recipe sure to make anyone howl.

 

Come to our Ghoulfest, we’re sure you’ll have fun.

We’re happy to serve you… rare or well done.

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Love at First Sight

 

I’ve never been in love before

Until I walked inside this door

 

I found a silver panel there

Approaching it I had to stare

 

Inside was someone beautiful

I’ve never felt so strong a pull

 

And now to my sincere delight

It’s love for me — love at first sight.

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And here are three from our first book: Coolhead Luke and Other Stories:

The King of Mud

In Sloppytown,

 beneath the crown,

sits mister pig, the king.

His royal job

is wallowing

in puddles in the spring.

 

He never has to

follow rules,

like washing anything.

 

I wonder if

those muddy pants

will make his bottom sting?

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Chef Mahoney 

There once was a chef named Mahoney

who had nothing in stock but baloney,

and a cupful of wheat macaroni,

when a phone call came out of the blue.

 

He agreed then to treat his old crony,

who went by the name of Cardoni,

to his specialty Beef Bourguignoney,

for a favor was long overdue.

 

Now, the crony whose name was Cardoni

brought a buddy of his named Marconi

and a bloke by the name of Felloni.

And they turned out to be quite a crew.

 

So, Mahoney, he picked up the phony

and called around town for a loany

of chuck roast and fine pepperoni

to embellish his masterpiece stew.

 

Then he slaved all day long like a pony,

but they said that his dish was too bony.

For dessert he served chocolate spumoni,

but they only complained at that too.

 

Now his cooking was very well-knowny.

He’d won ribbons for his rigatoni.

He’d been offered a job by Buitoni.

His talent he knew to be true.

 

He found these three men to be moany

and stony and droney and phoney.

He would rather have dined all aloney.

So politely, he told them to shoo.

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My Country’s Teeth I See

(sung to the tune of “My Country Tis of Thee)

 

My country’s teeth I see.

Behold the clarity

of pearly white.

But be aware of the

fangs down in Tennessee,

Maine really worries me,

it’s got a bite.

 

Those coastal areas

sure look precarious,

I’d watch my back.

East Texas grins so bright,

west Texas is a fright,

I couldn’t sleep at night

for all the plaque.

 

With jaws spectacular

in the vernacular,

our choppers chew.

Up in Lake Michigan

those teeth are closing in

to form a hungry grin.

Lunch is overdue.

 

My country’s teeth I see.

Incisors guarantee

our nation’s edge.

Molars mysterious

make me delerious,

I’m really serious.

To our teeth we pledge.

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