Poems 5

Tussle Time

I'm Samson, a small cat with stripes.
I'm frisky, so I'll take some swipes
at Tiger, he's my brother, so
I'll jump on him and then we'll go
a-tumbling, rolling through the grass.
He'll paw at me, I'll make a pass.
We'll scuffle 'til we're tired out,
and I will win, without a doubt!

I'm Tiger and I'm stripey too.
My roar is like a tiny mew.
But I can tussle like a pro
with Samson, he's my mate, you know.
I'll pounce on him with mighty force.
We'll leap up high and land, of course.
And when our feisty fight is done, 
Samson will see that I have won!

Then after every hop and leap,
when sparring's through,
here's what we'll do-
we'll curl as one and fall asleep.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Tree Sprite

[photo by tawk on AllPoetry.com]

Along the banks of a winding stream
is found a marvel, a misty dream,
for as the gypsies' story tells
this place is where the tree sprite dwells.
She wears a gown of greenest leaves
with flowers on the flowing sleeves.
She hides among the trees from sight
and sleeps up in the boughs at night,
where bubbling waters flowing by
tell secrets to the sparkling sky.
The tree sprite lives, by light of day,
where all the forest creatures play
she knows the animals and birds
and soothes them with her gentle words. 
And when the night falls, by the stream's
whispering song, she sleeps and dreams.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Butterfly Twin

I have a sister twin, she's called Irene.
We're twins, but different in so many ways.
Irene is spoiled, if you know what I mean.
She's cruel and cheats at every game she plays.
And she's a girl, of course, and I'm a boy.
We're different as two different kids can be.
Irene won't play pretend or share a toy.
She's never half as generous as me.
The butterflies won't land upon her head.
They know that if they did she'd smash 'em flat.
They fly down and alight on me instead.
And nothing makes her angrier than that.
There's no one more unhappy than Irene.
I've tried to calm her down and tell her why-
that butterflies don't like someone who's mean.
They land on children who will let them fly.
I told her that if she'd be very still
a butterfly or bird may think she's nice
but they for sure won't land on her until
she's quiet, but she won't take my advice.
Irene and I are twins, that much is true
but I'm the one the butterflies come to.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Fairy Moon

In summer time, when stars are bright,
you're sure to see a magical sight.
On the darkest night,
 in the middle of June-
that's when you'll see the fairy moon.
Yet if the moon is big and round
a fairy moon cannot be found.
But when the moon curves like a shell,
that's when you'll see the fairy well.
She sits upon it like a swing,
and if you listen, you'll hear her sing
a song that shimmers through the sky.
On wings that sparkle she will fly
around and over, and down again.
She'll glide along a moonbeam, then
she'll sit so softly on the moon
on the darkest night
in the middle of June.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Pixie Tales

In deepest wood, where pixies dwell,
 is where the sprites and faeries tell
 old tales of evil battling good,
 and they recite the stories well
 to cautions others, as they should-
 where pixies dwell, in deepest wood.
 The pixies make small homes in trees
 with doors and windows, as they please.
 They build strong doors, for safety's sake,
 and, mostly, pixies live with ease.
 Hidden along the mossy lake-
 small homes in trees the pixies make.
 A banshees screams, one misty night,
 and sleeping pixies wake in fright.
 The whole earth shakes with dread, it seems.
 The banshee, such a fearsome sight,
 sends curdling howls, like nightmare dreams-
 one misty night a banshees screams.
 The pixies stay, all safe and sound,
 with trunk and branches strong around.
 Inside their tree, the pixies pray-
 then morning breaks, without a sound.
 As dewdrops catch the light of day,
 all safe and sound the pixies stay.
 To listen to magical tales
 that sprites recount of ships and whales,
 or ogres cruel and giants, who
 a spell transforms to harmless snails...
 take caution! as they spin anew
 magical tales to listen to.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

My Bart

If you're one of the kind
who thinks dogs are no fun,
then you've surely not taken
my Bart for a run!
You see, Bart is a dog 
who's more fun than you know
if you put on his leash
and you tell him "let's go"! 
But there's one little problem
cuz, though he's real smart,
there are few other dogs
who are bigger than Bart.
He's as big as barn,
when he's standing there still,
which he doesn't do often
(but sometimes he will).
And whenever we're running 
across my back yard,
I try to keep up,
but it's terribly hard!
See, the long legs on Bart
are as tall as a fence-
so trying to race him
just doesn't make sense.
If you're one of the kind
who thinks dogs are no fun,
then you'd better not try 
to take him for a run.
But if you're one of those
who likes dogs with a heart...
there is no better dog in this world
than my Bart.

© Katharine L. Sparrow


An octopus has eight long legs
("octo" means eight, you know).
Each one of them is squirmy,
and they help him crawl and go
around the deep dark ocean
where it's dark both night and day.
Without his two huge bulgie eyes
he'd never find his way!
He may not be so very smart,
but then, he's not a dumbo.
The deep dark ocean might scare you,
but he just says "ho-humbo"!

© Katharine L. Sparrow

The Morning Wood

Step lightly in the dewy wood,
and here I'll tell you why you should-
the early morning, wet with dew,
is when the fairies flitter through
the woodlands, shimmering and bright,
to twinkle as the dark of night
gives way to skies of seashell pink.
Look closely and you'll see them blink
while sliding down on slippery blades,
of bending grass in hushed cascades,
to land on beds of springy moss
where dew shine paints a greenish gloss.
Their wings shed droplets on the ground
like diamond pebbles strewn around-
and from their breath, beglittered wisps
of rainbow colors float and twist
about the leafy morning wood.
Step lightly!-
and that's why you should.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

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Dad took me to the city zoo,
I saw a wondrous critter-
a softly brown-eyed kangaroo,
who made a little chitter.
She had a tiny baby roo
inside her cozy pouch.
I wanted to climb in there too,
but then she'd chitter "Ouch!"
"You're much too big to fit inside,
you're not a baby roo!"
And so I waved and said goodbye,
and sadly left the zoo.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Carousel Dream 

In the land of my dreams,
that only I see,
the leaves are all colors
on every tree.
The clouds paint pictures
across the sky
and tell a bright story,
as they drift slowly by.

And in my dream land
the children all play
on a big carousel
that turns all the day.

And nobody yells
and nobody cries
and nobody's mean
or tells any lies.

And when day is done,
the moon shines so bright,
we don't go to bed,
but play all the night,
while silvery stars
sing sweet melodies.
It's my very own dream land-
and I hold the keys.

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Taylor Blue

It's hard to believe, but true...
Have you ever met Taylor Blue?
Taylor's half man and half beast,
(he doesn't scare me in the least!)
who lives in a deep dark cave,
and doesn't know how to behave!
When Taylor comes 'round for lunch,
he'll grab at the food and just munch.
So messy an eater is he....
then he'll suddenly spill the tea!
He'll say that he's sorry and such,
but he's not really sorry, not much.
Our table is not very neat
when Taylor comes over to eat.

And what do you s'pose you'd do
if you ever met Taylor Blue?
He'd hold out a shaggy old paw-
the dirtiest you ever saw!-
to give your hand a good shake,
but he always makes some mistake.
Perhaps he'll step on your toes,
or drool on your arm, heaven knows!
He might trip over a rock-
now wouldn't that give you a shock!
And then he would growl and roar
till his big old growler was sore.
Taylor Blue is half man and half beast,
but he doesn't scare me in the least

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Six Wives

Old King Henry
wasn't friendly-
wives, he married six.
Henry's troubles
flew like bubbles,
things he couldn't fix.

Six wives, six wives-
which one dies,
which one survives?

His only joy
would be a boy,
his kingdom for to save-
but Henry Eight,
he couldn't wait-
his wives went to their graves.

Six wives, six wives-
which one dies,
which one survives?

The queens just wouldn't,
they just couldn't
give Henry a son.
Some of them died,
some of them lied-
beheaded, more than one.

Six wives, six wives
which one dies
which one survives?

Two Annes, three Katherines
and a Jane
were all of Henry's wives.
Two lost their heads,
two died in beds,
and only two survived.

Six wives, six wives
two survived
four lost their lives.

© Katharine L. Sparrow


 I'm waiting and waiting and waiting for spring,
 when the circus will visit - a magical thing!
 Under the big top, that soars like a kite,
 my eyes will follow the golden spot light
 that helps the ringmaster illuminate
 the fantastical acts that will captivate...
 like the trapeze artist, flying to a star,
 and the tight rope walkers, how high they are!
 And then, with the beat of a heavy drum,
 the elephants and Queen of India come
 to the center ring with such beauty and grace-
 no, you've never seen a more magical place!
 So I wait and I wait for spring to come near
when the wonderful circus will finally be here!

© Katharine L. Sparrow

Pet Rock

I had a nice round rock.
I named him Ichabod.
I kept him in a sock
next to my fishing rod
that stands beside my bat
which is right behind my glove-
and then inside of that
is the sock I'm speaking of.
It's just a old white sock
and I had lost its mate
but for a nice round rock
a single sock is great
to keep him in, I thought,
but that was my mistake-
it wasn't a good spot
to choose, for safety's sake,


One day I went to find
my rock named Ichabod-
he wasn't there inside my glove,
and that was very odd...
until my dad explained
that he'd cleaned my closet out.
No single sock remained
with Ichabod about.
And so my fishing pole
that leans against my bat
stands by empty baseball glove-
and that's the end of that.

© Katharine L. Sparrow


Are you ready? Do you dare
to see the magic here and there?
Are you brave? Do you know
where all the sprites and faeries go?

Old stories tell us all about
green leprechauns and wishing stars,
and clever children never doubt
the fireflies that wink from jars
who bring good luck from lands unknown
across the blue and shining sea
where wing-ed unicorns have flown
above the deep, where mermaids be.

Are you clever? Do you know
that angels' wings are white like snow?
Will you now and always dare
to see the magic everywhere?

© Katharine L. Sparrow