When thoughts awaken over year's,

Often happens in the dead of night.

Cog's keep churning a laying fears,

That's when my stories often begin.

When fear's of dreams take flight,

Turning thoughts into a deadly sin.

So children are you sitting comfortably,

It's time for my story to begin.


Mrs badgers jacket potatoes were spot-on, 

But it took her ages to sew the buttons on.

Her husband would soon be back, You may

know him as the badger in the bowler hat.


He came in with clouded sky's,

As though the star's had closed there eyes.

A bunch of flowers in his hand,

Borrowed from the farmers land.


For finding ways for the tired sheep,

To count themselves to fall asleep.

 Hi honey I'm home he shouted,

She was going to tell him off being late.

When she saw the flowers she melted.


He went back to days before he wed,

Told the owl he was getting married,

As though it came out of the blue.

Owl surprised said. "You twit to who".


They were all seated around the table,

Archimedes the owl, Roger the rabbit too

Mole, fastidious ferret, even Wiley the kangaroo,

A screw top bottle, Being past hand to hand.


No one able to get it undone,

Past it to the Badger in the bowler hat.

He said, " I'll tell you what I found,

You have to hold the top,

And spin the bottle round".


As his friends thanked them in turn,

Mrs mole said " especially liked fresh worms".

These were our kangaroo years,

Living with Mrs honey badger wished,  They'd never stop. If suddenly you needed help,

You'd  never catch us on the hop.


It was Mr rabbits time to leave,

he was always in the state.

Looking at his watch saying,

He was late for a very important date.


It was the queen of hearts,

Who stole some of the wife's tarts.

But it wasn't really a sin,

We even gave her a bag to put them in.









Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 52 times
Written on 2022-04-25 at 00:16

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