December the 24th, which is Christmas eve,
The elves and the reindeer are ready to leave,
To deliver the presents which are put on the sledge,
When Rudolf saw Santa asleep in the hedge.

"Wake up, wake up," all shouted in fear,
But Santa turned over 'cause he did not hear,
They looked at each other and thought of the state,
Of each boy and girl if they were to be late.

"I'll ring my bells," Rudolf said to the elf,
As he reached to collect them from the shelf,
"Well that won't work." Mrs Santa declares,
As she sees their dilemma from up the stairs.

"What shall we do?" They all yelled at once,
"Just watch me," was her giggly response,
With a feather taken from out of her dress,
She was determined to find a way out of this mess.

Removing his shoes and then his socks,
She tickled, as he wriggled, as they watched the clock,
Then slowly but surely he opened his eyes,
And shot to his feet with a look of surprise.

"What's happened?" What's happened?" He asked them all,
Thinking he must be stood up in his smalls!
"You are going to be late for your job of the year,"
Exclaimed Mrs Santa - right in his ear.

"Oh no", he laughed as he pats Rudolf's head,
"I thought I was still tucked up in my bed,"
Rubbing his eyes he noticed the smiles,
"Come on then you lot, lets travel those miles.

So...... if Santa sleeps on that special day,
We all now know there is a way,
To wake a tired Santa from a deep, deep sleep,
Get a single feather and tickle his feet.

© Wendy Knight 2006

My nose just keeps on running,
What a pain this is starting to be,
It's made my nose all red and soggy,
And dripping straight into my tea.

I have no tissues with me,
So I'll have to use my coat,
But I don't like the looks I'm getting,
When I sniff stuff to the back of my throat!

I'm trying to get off to sleep now,
I'm trying all sorts of ways,
To control the snot from running,
and causing a dribbley glaze.

I've scrunched and pushed the sheet under,
My cheek, my mouth and my nose,
And I'm wrapped up like a bear in winter,
and have my frog slippers to cover my toes.

By Monday the cold's decided to leave me,
But it's legacy is a sore peeling nose,
And my eyes are not quite as droopy,
When will it come back? Nobody knows.

© Wendy Knight 2006

There once was a girl who liked picking her nose,
She wouldn't stop picking at this rhyme does go,
She picked in the morning, afternoon and at tea,
She picked at playtime, bedtime and having a pee!

There once was a girl who liked picking her nose,
She wouldn't stop picking as this rhyme does go,
She picked at school making her teacher bellow,
Even in assembly making her friends turn yellow!

There once was a girl who liked picking her nose,
She wouldn't stop picking as this rhyme does go,
She liked the hard ones, soft, juicy and wet,
And she rolled them into a ball just for a bet!

There once was a girl who liked picking her nose,
She had to stop picking as this rhyme does go,
At bedtime one night, she picked and picked it all clean,
Now she has no nose left. None to be seen.

boo hoo hoo.

© Wendy Knight 2006

My shoes still look new but I've gone off them a bit,
I want the top bit to scuff and the sole to split,
I'll skip a lot and then play footy with my brother,
I want new shoes and I'll get them one way or the other!

My friend has new shoes and showed them off today,
Keep stopping to polish them as we tried to play,
It got on my nerves but they did look great,
So I want new shoes to be in with my mate.

On the way home I scuffed and scuffed them some more,
Bending my foot over just to deepen the score,
I really want new ones, fashionable and black,
Desirable and trendy, which these defiantly lack!

I made it home and my Mum was quite mad,
She noticed the deep marks and my sole hanging bad,
"We'll have to go to town now and find a new pair!
And you won't get your new coat - Oh- don't you dare!"

I skip into school as soon as I can,
But they look at me funny - which isn't the plan.
"What's the problem? I ask - then feeling quite huffy,,
As they say "Its your coat that looks rather sad and scruffy!

I just don't believe it and I'm gutted to say,
I wish I wasn't so good at getting my own way.
Right, back to my Mum as I have a plan,
To get my own way, only 'cause I can.

© Wendy Knight 2006

I just sneezed all over the dog,
The shock sent him away
Mother just hit the back of my hand,
she had nothing else to say.

I didn't mean to make it land,
I didn't mean for it to spray,
I didn't mean the snot to leak,
And chase the dog away.

I know the noise was loud,
And I know it was over done,
But when the sneeze comes up,
The effects are half the fun.

Atishooooooooo

© Wendy Knight 2006

I need to find an outlet,
For the wind that's deep inside,
Forever gurgling and bubbling,
A feeling I can't describe.

The wind is moving lower,
It's travelling to the ground,
The tightening of my trousers,
Is the evidence to be found!

I can't keep it in any longer,
Though my bum cheeks are squeezed real tight,
I just have to let the pressure out,
and expect to give my knickers a fright!

But I'm stood in the queue with my shopping,
and the lady in front is soooooo slow,
The line just keeps stopping and starting,
So I'll let it out gently - you know?

Well, there it goes slowly escaping,
The warm air flows down from my butt,
But hey - The rumbling has subsided,
and the bubblings all gone from my gut!

Then I innocently look round not knowing,
Who really could do such a thing?
so I pay for my shopping quite quickly,
And as I leave the shop start to sing.

© Wendy Knight 2006

Where have all the words gone?
In my brain they've blurred into one,
I'll pick a few words from a book,
Now a sentence has just begun.

That fabulous title evades me,
Though my lip is chewed all to bits,
I can't pick the words from my memory,
And when I do, well, nothing fits!

I've made myself so much coffee,
That I've wizzed round the room twenty times,
I've read today's paper with sadness,
But, I can't find those words that will rhyme.

The deadline will be here by the morning,
And the words I've written aren't right,
Writer's block has lured over my shoulder,
And my eyes are now losing their sight.

Hold on, what's this staring at me?
Over biscuit and cold cup of tea,
My poem all set out in smart rows,
Words laid out, like something to see.

Writer's block, take your mocking slight stare,
And look out for my words, they are there,
Powerful and strong, my words come along,
And will make sense by the morn. So beware!

© Wendy Knight 2006

The boy sat on the bank with his bucket of frogs,

He'd carefully collected them from streams and bogs,

Their legs all wriggly, their bodies all wet and green,

A bucket of frogs is a sight to be seen.

He's names them all, so that he was all set,

As a bucket of frogs make ideal pets,

But the frogs in the bucket had other thoughts,

To escape from this bucket that this boy had brought.

They wriggled and climbed on each other's heads,

They squirmed and jumped, each filled with dread,

But one was so clever, and started to plan,

And he croaked his idea to the rest of the clan.

The idea all set they moved to one side,

Bodies all thrashing, limbs all astride,

The bucket did tip; they pushed with more might,

Frogs in a bucket determined to fight.

The bucket fell with an almighty splash,

The boy stood in fright and then made a dash,

To catch his pets that were getting away,

But they all hopped past not wanting to stay.

The boy held the bucket and looked in at the space,

All the frogs had gone and without a trace,

He'd been here all day; he should have stuck with one frog,

He'll just have to go home and beg his dad for a dog!

© Wendy Knight 2006

I've just burnt my tongue on a drink!

The pain is as bad as you think,

I find it rather annoying,

And a little bit sad.

That drinking hot chocolate,

Could end up so bad!

© Wendy Knight 2006

She was twelve years old, tired and sore,

working dawn 'till dusk as her family was poor,

Her hands were painful as the hours were long,

The children working were strangled of song.

Waling to work in the early dew,

Bad days were common, good ones were few,

Rushed by time, caressed by the mist,

Small hands so cold rolled up in their fist.

From gentry to ladies the silks were so pure,

Woven so gently, the pattern to lure,

As the wheel thumped it's sound in a melody beat,

The silks laid out in reams so neat.

Dawn until dusk the mill works up the test,

The water is rushing, it's hours no less,

For prunella, taffeta, weave and more,

The workers all work knowing the score.

Those hands are all gone now, disappeared from our sight,

A spirit looks down, protective of plight,

The ghost of a child, whose life was the reams,

Sees the Silk Mill still turning, but not by any means.

© Wendy Knight 2006

Please don't switch off the telly,

Don't dust around the screen,

You're hovering is driving me mad,

You're bottom is all that I've seen!

I don't want to go out to play,

I don't want to tidy my room,

So please just put the duster away,

And stop nudging my feet with the broom!

I'm watching a cartoon that's funny,

It's relaxing to pass the day,

Blue Peter's on in a little while,

So'. mum' PLEASE just go away!

Oh Mum please don't switch off the telly!..

BLINK.

© Wendy Knight 2006

I've seen this old man with a white bearded face,

Try to park his car in the parking space,

He steered to the left and then to the right,

He tried to reverse but that was a fight.

The bearded man whose skin was old and grey,

Scraped the black car that was in his way,

"You silly old man!" the lady shouted,

"I can't help it!" the old man spouted.

The lady got out and shook her fist in his face,

They bawled and shouted all over the place,

The lady stopped and gasped, "didn't you see,

That this parking space was made for three?"

The white bearded man suddenly stopped to look,

He laughed out loud while his whole body shook,

The two had been fighting and making a fuss,

Over a parking space that was made for a BUS!

© Wendy Knight 2006