There once was a gnome...

There once was a gnome...

There once was a gnome
Who disliked his home
He wanted a place more cozy

He lived in a hole
With a mole and vole
They both were far too nosey

So the gnome set out
And made a new route
To find his perfect home

For to live with a vole
And mole in a hole
Was really too much for this gnome

He traveled on land
Till dirt turned to sand
And the sand turned into sea

And since he could not swim
His future seemed grim
Until he then saw a tree

So in a deep cleft
Of the branch on the left
The gnome was quite at ease

He had set up house
With a shrew and mouse
In the furrows of the trees


I think that this poem could use some work, but I liked the mental pictures I had in my head for this.  I could see possibly making it longer.  Maybe adding more situations where the gnome searches for new living quarters and roommates and finding himself in situations he dislikes.  So therefore, he has to keep moving from place to place until he finds another gnome (maybe a girl gnome?) to live with where he's happy.  I could probably change that from the mouse and shrew part, but I don't know how long I'd want to make that poem.  Hahaha.  To me that seems more like a story for a short children's book or something.  I do think that it would be cool to write a children's book of poems and things like that.  I'm just not sure if I'm quite there yet with some of my writing.  We'll see what all I do.  I still think I need some work for that before anything significant would ever happen.  :-P  I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading!

Mouse in the House

A little mouse
Makes his house
In your walls
And floors and halls.
And so you hatch
A plan to catch
This little pest
So you can rest.
And now you wait.
You've set the bait.
Look!  Here he comes.
He sniffs the crumbs
And he eats the cheese
As he will please.
Until....SNAP!
He's dead in your trap.

Here's a little poem about catching the annoying pests, mice.  I hope that you enjoy it.  Share and enjoy!

I come bearing gifts, human.

We have a stray cat that we adopted this last fall.  We named her Tuna because it was the only thing that we had to feed her at the time.  I like it.  It's a different name and I think it's a cute name for a cat.  Tuna is a very funny kitty.  She's super affectionate and loves to play.  I think a poem about her was bound to happen sooner or later.  She's gotten in to a bad habit of bringing us "gifts" though.  Mice are one thing, because they can get under the house and can be pests, but lately she's been catching birds.  Which aren't necessarily fun to clean up.  Feathers EVERYWHERE.  Anyway, here is a poem that I wrote about my pet cat, Tuna.  :-)

I come bearing gifts, human.

My cat named Tuna

Has a very bad proclivity.

With all other cats

She shares this activity.

She leaves me gifts

Of things that are dead.

                                            Why can’t she play

With her toy mice instead?

Feathers and heads,

Beaks, wings, and tails.

Fur, fuzz, and fluff

And mouse’s entrails.

What is it within

Her little cat mind

That makes her believe

Dead things are just fine

As a gift to present

To the hand that feeds her?

                                    What a strange thing, indeed

My kitty cat creature.

She takes pride

In her offering and present.

She finds it most superb

And rather quite pleasant.

What else can I do?

But just say, “Thank you, kitty.

The dead gift is sweet.

It’s really quite pretty.”