James Fagan's Children's Poems

James Fagan's Children's Poems

A child at the Circus            Poem published in Heritage Matters Magazine  Issue  27 

 

It doesn’t seem long since the circus came to town,
when I was a child, a mischievous little hound.

There were big red trucks, parked in a circle
and a circus tarpaulin rigged in the middle.

And over to the side, ponies were tethered
to the ground, where children stood and
 jumped waiting for a ride.

The elephant swung his trunk high in
the air. Standing with its leg chained to
the ground, where people listened to its
trumpeting sound.

The lion moved in a straw-laden cage,
roaring out loud in a kitty catty rage.

Yes, I was a child, who stood among
the crowd, looking all agape as monkeys
chatted out loud, holding their babes,
with faces in a daze. Some climbed around,
looking out their cage.

Then came the time to file into the tent, to
sit on planks which were tiered above the ring.
Watching the ringmaster cracking his whips,
then swinging them around down by his hips.

The clowns each juggled hoops in the air,
and then skipped around the ring, doing
tricks and high jinks.

The tiger tamer showed his skill, directing
cats as they jumped through rings. They glided
along like cats on wings.

That was the circus when I was a lad.
Now I go there as a granddad, watching trapeze
artists, who swing from their knees. These
men catch lady acrobats, high above a net

that sags below.

     

    Lucy Lou

A young girl called Lucy Lou

Had two string legs and white socks too

Her jacket and shoes were green

Her blue dress and hat had ornate lace that 

was cream and she had pearls on her neck 

that were easily seen and sparkled 

Lucy Lou looked lahdy-da with plaits in 

her hair and a posh poker face, a serious 

stance for a school girl dance

Lucy Lou played hop scotch and skipping too 

The last games she played before bedtime

      The Polar Bear

The polar bear is over here

He has white feet and warm white fur

In summer he feeds;  before hibernating; 

Eats as much as he is able

And stores up fat 

Then goes to his den and sleeps

Then goes outside on the snow;  

One of the largest wild animals at the pole

He eats seals and birds and fish.

The Whale

The whale is an mammal that is big and lean

It can move through the water like a submarine

With its flippers and fins, it has perfect control

Breathing its air through a huge blow hole

It can glide along in a stormy gale

Swimming along the black and white whale

It feeds on creatures when out for a dip

While riding the waves like a sailing ship

Some dive deep to catch squid as well

And some have good hearing and remarkable

smell

The Tiger

The tiger sees animals in the forest

Beasts made of meat and bone

Full of hunger, he begins to growl

Then makes a purring sound

While hiding in the jungle behind 

his stripes

Then the food he smells makes him 

leap upon one of the creatures

Then he rips the meat to bits 

This is the tigers hunting way,

To be resourceful when hunting prey,

Then he hides his kill in the trees 

Until it is time to eat again, on another 

day

 

Looking at Cats             Poem published in Heritage Matters Magazine Issue 19

A forest cat comes through the trees
Norwegian long coat and black                                             
or is it a Bengal or Russian Blue
placid as a Rag Doll fluffy cat

A tabby longhair sometimes short
finds safety in the children’s fort

While Japanese Bobtail red and white
stalks a bird in a streak of light

The kids are playing on the floor
watching an Angora behind the door
scratching the lounge suite thread by thread

Her kittens are out in the barn
living in a cardboard box
snug and fluffy like Grandpa’s socks

A field mouse sneaks past their feet
as those little kittens lie fast asleep
then runs past Grandma in the shed
who’s making sure mother cat’s been fed

My cousin owns a Persian flat face fat
he walks and talks and purrs like a hunting cat
but lives in luxury in a city flat

The cat we call Tiffany Red fights with
cats in the street
slapping about two white front feet

Our neighbour’s cat come through the hedge
to eat up all the scraps
he’s not so skinny and he’s not so fat
my brother said it’s a Siamese cat

My moggy cat is like a frog                                                                          
he jumps and hops across the road
then bounces away down the street
feeling the pain of the pavement heat

 

Grace’s Diner                Published in     A Time of Hope       Poetry Book

You can dine at Mrs Graces                                                

for a tiny little fee.                                                                  

She has tea cups for her coffee.

If you come along you’ll see.

There isn’t any sugar

and the slater’s are a pest.

The table cloths are holy

where the customers take their rest

and if you want some coffee

she gives you a cup of tea.

When you dine at Mrs Graces

where the slater’s are a pest.

They walk upon the wall

or sit upon your knee.

You can drink them in your coffee

or in a cup of tea.

 

Rob the Frog       Published in       Angels didnt't come ...       Poetry Book

The slimy frog whose name is Rob

Lives alone in a big wet bog                                          

He jumps about and croaks all night

And chases insects in broad daylight

His skin is green

His eyes are mean

And in the daytime  when he’s hardly seen

He lives on flies

Who have googly eyes

Who fly about, when his tongue shoots out,

And when the children see him roam

They put out their hands, but the frog hops home

 

Scarecrow          Published in       Angel's didn't come...       Poetry Book

The scarecrow stands in the paddock  

After the farmer has come to sow

Seed upon the soil brown.

He scares the children on the bound

His hair is dusty straw,

His clothes are old and ragged.

His eyes are made of stone

And his face is old and haggard.

Scarecrow speaks no words;

His job is only to scare the birds.

The children come to give him a scare

Walk up closer with a dare

Then run away to play no more

It’s a game that scares the children sore.

Then off to bed, day turns to night

To dream of  scarecrow and get a fright.

 

Mill Rat            Published in       Angels didn't come...           Poetry Book

     

There is the rat, who sees the cat

Coming down the stairs at night.                           

He sneaks about and hides in the dark     

In the mill, till its broad daylight.

His skin is brown,

His tail is thin,

He runs up and down the banister rim.

The master comes with his hunting cat, expecting

To catch the furry rat.

But it’s hiding in the mill tonight

Dark and spooky no human light,

Under the flower bag, or behind the broom

The cat is unable to bring it doom.

The Little Mouse

The little mouse comes out at night

into the kitchen for a bite

Then sneak upstairs to tease the cat

Who sleeps upon the master's mat

Along the passage on tiny feet

While the rest of the house is fast asleep

Then full of fright and full of worry 

The little mouse decides to scurry.