For those that don't know,
Baby boo was an earlier poem,
About my grandson.
If you come down our way.
Don't mean to be rude,
You have to be careful;
Because of baby boo.
Being a baby never lasts,
Being a teenager for him.
Is nothing like his past,
Okay he's still in a rage,
He never sleeps in a bed;
Because he prefers his cage.
He has two rather large feet,
Everybody runs from him.
As he bounds knuckles
first,down our streets.
No one makes a fuss,
When he rides on top off the bus.
To you I really must confidently confide,
Their really glad he doesn't ride inside.
His hair is rather strong, growing very long,
It doesn't bother him least little bit.
Sometimes he holds it in his snarled hands;
Then uses it like a whip, And of course
I must say, He reminds me of cousin it.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Written on 2026-03-06 at 00:13
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Baby boo was an earlier poem,
About my grandson.
JUST A NOTE ABOUT BABY BOO
Just a note, I'd like to say,If you come down our way.
Don't mean to be rude,
You have to be careful;
Because of baby boo.
Being a baby never lasts,
Being a teenager for him.
Is nothing like his past,
Okay he's still in a rage,
He never sleeps in a bed;
Because he prefers his cage.
He has two rather large feet,
Everybody runs from him.
As he bounds knuckles
first,down our streets.
No one makes a fuss,
When he rides on top off the bus.
To you I really must confidently confide,
Their really glad he doesn't ride inside.
His hair is rather strong, growing very long,
It doesn't bother him least little bit.
Sometimes he holds it in his snarled hands;
Then uses it like a whip, And of course
I must say, He reminds me of cousin it.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Written on 2026-03-06 at 00:13
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
