Children's Poem: "Caterpillar"

Caterpillar

If you're like me, your inner child still remembers watching a fuzzy caterpillar as it undulated across something.

They seemed to always be in such a hurry to get somewhere.

I watched in awe, fascinated by their perfect coordination, in spite of having so many tiny legs and feet.

They never seemed to get theirs tangled up like I did ...

Caterpillar

by CJ Heck

Fuzzy caterpillar
with your million-jillion feet,
how do you know which foot should go,
as you're walking on that leaf?

You make it look so easy,
right-left-right, the way you do,
sometimes MY feet get tangled up
and I have only TWO ...

("Caterpillar" from the book, "Me Too Preschool Poetry", by CJ Heck)

More Poems from the Book

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Children's Poem: "To a Baby Firefly"

Firefly Nightlight

One of the many joys I remember from childhood was being outside on a hot summer night.

First we would wear ourselves out playing hide-and-seek in the dark.

Then, we would get a Ball jar with a lid from Mom so we could catch fireflies -- only back then, we called them lightning bugs.

They were such gentle little creatures and I was always awed, as I watched them light up my magical flashing nightlight.

I couldn't help but honor them with a poem.

To A Baby Firefly

by CJ Heck

Little baby firefly,
when your night is through,
does your mother tuck you in
and tell you she loves you?

Does she kiss your forehead
and say in morning's light ...
"Day-day little sleepyhead,
close your eyes, put out your light."



("To a Baby Firefly" from the book, "Barking Spiders 2 (sequel)", by CJ Heck)

More Poems from the Book

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Children's Christmas Poem: "Dear Santa ..."

Santa Checking his List ...

Here we are, with three weeks left until Christmas and yet it has been here since Halloween ...

Will Christmas and everything surrounding it be stale for children by the 25th of December?

As I was out grocery shopping the other day, I was hit by the sheer commercialism Christmas has become.

How sad for the children. Can they still believe in Christmas when they've had trees, lights, sales, decorations, and Santas everywhere for two long months? How can they remain excited?  Where has all the magic gone?

It was so much simpler for children years ago, when the Christmas season didn't actually arrive until around December 1.

The excitement built in a steady crescendo:  school vacation, snow and sledding, to the magical Christmas Eve, with the reading of "The Night Before Christmas", hanging stockings, and setting out the traditional cookies and milk for Santa ... oh, and I almost forgot!  A plate of carrots for the reindeer.

I remember being urged at the beginning of December to make my wish list and Mama would send it to Santa at the North Pole. Then as a family, we would begin shopping for gifts.

I remember the whole family would pile in the station wagon to head to the woods so we could cut down our tree -- and everyone helped to decorate it, because there were ONLY a couple of weeks left until Christmas.

There was never time for Christmas to become stale. Heck, we always had just enough time to get everything done ... if we hurried.

I dedicate this poem to children who wonder about the commercialism and who still think of others first ...

Dear Santa ...

by CJ Heck

Dear Santa,
You always bring me many things,
my little sister, too,
things we love to play with,
so many things to do.

I see you in big limos
waving at us in parades.
I see you in the shopping malls
and even in arcades.

I see you on the corners
where you're ringing little bells.
I see you talking on TV
advertising big hotels.

It makes me start to wonder
if you're really, really there,
or are you just too busy now
with all those things to care?

See, I have a best friend, Tommy,
and I'm sending his address,
so this year you won't miss his house,
'cause Tommy, he's the best.

Please, Santa, take some time off
from those other things you do
and this year visit Tommy's house?
He needs some presents, too.


[From the book, "Barking Spiders and Other Such Stuff", by CJ Heck]

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Children's Poem: Dear Santa

Santa Claus

Dear Santa ...

by CJ Heck

You always bring me many things, 

my little sister, too, 

things we love to play with 

and so many things to do. 

I see you in big limos 

waving at us in parades. 

I see you in the shopping malls 

and even in arcades. 

I see you on the corners 

where you're ringing little bells. 

I see you talking on TV 

advertising big hotels. 

It causes me to wonder 

if you're really really there, 

or are you just too busy 

with all those things to care? 

See, I have a best friend, Tommy, 

and I'm sending his address 

so this year you won't miss his house, 

'cause Tommy, he's the best. 

Please, Santa, take some time off 

from those other things you do 

and this year, visit Tommy's house? 

He needs some presents, too.

[From the Book, "Barking Spiders and Other Such Stuff", 2000, by CJ Heck]

"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Children's Poem: "The Blue Bird"

Blue Bird

When I was a little girl, we had a huge old apple tree in the side yard. It's long branches came within inches of my bedroom window.

The tree was well past its prime and I can't remember it ever bearing more than one or two apples in a season -- and those weren't very good. That didn't matter, though, because it was a great climbing tree.

 My siblings and I would climb way up and then out onto the massive branches to look down on those who were playing on the ground.

I remember sitting up there for hours just listening to the sounds of summer, or getting lost between the pages of a favorite book.

In the mornings, the most amazing little blue bird would visit me. He sat on the closest branch to my bedroom window in the old apple tree. It always fascinated me, the way he just sat there staring at me while I stared at him. I pretended to have conversations with him, wondering what it would be like to be a bird.

Then one day, during the summer I turned eleven, we had a huge thunderstorm. I always loved storms, still do, but I remember the wind howled and the lightning and thunder put on an epic show. 

Suddenly, there was a loud C-R-A-C-K. A bolt of lightning had hit the old apple tree and split it right down the middle. Both halves lay across from each other in the yard.  To this day, I still don't know how either of the halves missed hitting our house.

Anyway, this poem for children came from those summers with the little blue bird and the old apple tree ...

The Blue Bird

by CJ Heck

If I could be an animal
I think I’d like to be
just like the little blue bird
that’s sitting in my tree.

I look at him and wonder
what it’s like when you can fly.
I’ll bet the world looks beautiful
from up there in the sky.

There would be no traffic jams
or stop signs in the air.
No bumpy roads with potholes
would ever be up there.

Each night I wish upon the stars
that I could be a bird
but it never ever happened,
so I don't think they heard.

But I’d miss my mom and dad
and who’d be there at night
to help me brush my teeth
and tuck me in real tight?

He looks at me each morning
from the same branch in my tree.
While I sit wishing I was him,
is he wishing he was me?


(from the book, "Barking Spiders 2", by CJ Heck

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"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Children's Halloween Poem: Mr. Bones

Mr. Bones

Mr. Bones

by CJ Heck

I was looking up some haunted stuff
because it’s Halloween.
I saw black cats, ghosts and witches,
and all of them looked mean.

Then I saw your picture.
You’re an awesome skeleton!
I read that we are just like you,
deep down beneath our skin.

Before you got turned inside out,
did you really look like me?
I think I'll call you Mr. Bones
since bones are all I see.

Two more questions, Mr. Bones ...
through your bones, I just see air.
When you walk do you make noise?
Are you cold because you’re bare?

Mr. Bones, oh Mr. Bones,
you have a scary mouth
and there’s nothing where your eyes should be.
You're so spooky wrong-side out!

Poor, poor Mr. Bones,
it’s sad you have no skin ...
I guess that I'd look frightening, too,
with my inside out, my outside in.


[From the book,  "Barking Spiders 2" (the sequel), by CJ Heck]


"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Flu Season: When Mommy's Sick

It's that time of year again. Robert and I went for our flu shots yesterday. Surprisingly, it only takes half a minute for the shot ... it takes a whole lot longer to fill out the paperwork that allows them to give you the shot.

Last year, I had a cold and had to pass on the flu shot -- bad, bad, bad. I eventually got the flu and was flat out and miserable for a good two weeks.  I didn't feel really well for another two.

It makes me remember years ago, when my children were young and I was sick ...

When Mommy's Sick ... no one's happy

When Mommy's Sick

by CJ Heck

Mommy's sick in bed today.

Doctor says she has the flu.

Sissy's got a stuffy nose

and she might get it, too.

When Mommy's sick it makes us sad

she doesn't feel so good.

She's having juice and medicine

like the doctor said she should.

It's not the same when Mommy's sick,

our hugs are all sick, too,

and kisses for our boo-boos

also have the flu.

Our sads are even sadder

so our happys aren't as glad

and when we're being naughty,

that even feels more bad.

Let's get her better, Sissy!

We'll get some more juice in her,

'cause I remembered something else,

ewwww, Daddy's cookin' dinner ...

[From the Book, "Barking Spiders 2", by CJ Heck]

Don't forget your flu shot. 

Hugs, CJ

"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck

Children's Poem: "Muddles"

The Joy of Finding a Mud Puddle

There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff

While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt

I thought it would be nice to give children a poem today, especially since I predominantly write for children.

I feel safe in saying this poem is based on the childhoods of every adult, (male or female), all across the country.

I think everyone can remember the joy in finding a fresh mud puddle ... and the battle we lost to our self-control.

Oh, and if you would please read it out loud in your best four-year old voice ...

Muddles

by CJ Heck

Splashing-sploshing the mud in puddles
I will call what I made "muddles".

Run and jump, my feet go splishy.
Bare toes feel good, squashy-squishy.

Uh oh, muddles frickled my new pants!
I wiped it worse 'cause it’s on my hands!

Dripsy-drops are EVERY place!
It’s in my hair! It’s on my face!

It’s on my shirt, and there, and THERE!
Muddles got me everywhere!

Muddles bubbles in my smell.
Is it in BOTH holes? I just can’t tell,

and every twirl I go, it goes!
Ewww, here comes Mommy with the hose.

Mommy said just LOOK at me!
I can’t cause muddles are in my see,

but there's no muddles in my ears
and Mommy’s yells fill up my hears!

Now dripples are raining down, oh well,
it’s raining muddles off my smell.

My poor muddles ... now they’re moosh.
I slippered and sat right in the goosh.

The hose rains muddles off my thumb,
it's raining muddles from on my bum,

now there’s NOwhere muddles stayed
cause dripples made it go away.

I can’t play now, not here OR there
cause I’m in a corner on a chair

and Mommy’s washing ALL my clothes.
She said, "Why mud? I’ll never know."

Would I still have so many troubles
if I called it something else, not muddles?


(from the book, "Me Too!  Preschool Poetry", by CJ Heck)

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"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck