Skunks at Camp

Mother Streusel

A cabin of stinky skunks

Were snuggled in their bunks

The moon outside shone bright

Mother Streusel

The pine tree needles shook

As the breeze traversed a brook

On a mountain summer night

Mother Streusel

All around was quiet

And though they would deny it

The skunks snuck out of bed

Mother Streusel

They slunk across the lawn

And soon they came upon

A cabin painted red

Mother Streusel

Into windows and the door

A stench began to pour

From each little skunk

Mother Streusel

That cabin full of girls,

Mostly fuzzy squirrels

Awoke and how they stunk!

Mother Streusel

They vowed those skunks would pay

They tattled the next day

And made an awful fuss

Mother Streusel

Those sly skunks once accused

Asked as if confused,

“What makes you think it’s us?”

© 2014 Karyn Linnell

Aunt Mabel

        Mother Streusel

Whenever we have dinner

At the home of my Aunt Mabel,

I must be extra careful

And polite while at the table.

Mother Streusel

Aunt Mabel is quite sensitive

To any sign of crudeness,

And I never can predict what words

Offend her with their rudeness.

Mother Streusel

She asks me what I’m learning

And expects me to reply.

I try to answer safely,

But things often go awry.

Mother Streusel

One year it was the alphabet.

What problems could there be?

Aunt Mabel lost her temper

When I said the letter P.

Mother Streusel

Aunt Mabel started choking

Upon a piece of onion

When I said my class had read

The tall tale of Paul Bunyan.

Mother Streusel

One year we got into a fight.

She said that I began it,

Because I said uranus

While listing off each planet.

Mother Streusel

You doubt she is that sensitive?

I promise you that it’s true.

Last year she nearly sent me home

When I said the word shampoo.

Mother Streusel

Mother Streusel

© 2014 Karyn Linnell

The Siren of the Garden

Mother Streusel

The beauty of the ocean

The mermaid, is a flirt,

But the siren of the garden,

The wormaid, lives in dirt

Mother Streusel

She swims through the soil

She dives between the rocks

Her home is Compost Cove

Where she combs her wormaid locks

Mother Streusel

All the worms adore her

They listen for her song:

“Banana peels and rotting pears

We’ll feast on them till dawn!”

Mother Streusel

A goddess of the underearth

A soil-sodden queen

The legendary wormaid

Half-worm and half-sardine

© 2014 Karyn Linnell

The Bad Hobbit

Mother Streusel The Bad Hobbit

I know of a bad hobbit

He’s very irritating

He’s always doing something

That people find frustrating

He likes to chew his fingernails

He likes to pick his nose

You’ll notice that the table’s

Always under his elbows

He never wipes his feet

When he comes into a house

And when he chews his dinner

He doesn’t close his mouth

He won’t cover his face

If he needs to cough or sneeze

I’m not sure if he’s ever said

A thank you or a please

He’s often interrupting

He doesn’t listen well

I don’t think that he bathes much

Going by the smell

He makes lots of rude noises

And then acts very proud

He gossips and complains

And always talks too loud

I know of a bad hobbit

I doubt you’d like to know him

There are no books about him

Though someone wrote a poem

Butterflies

(This poem is meant to be silly and may or may not be true. It is, however, more true than not. Please be kind to butterflies, though feel free to move away if one tries to land on you.)

People think that butterflies

Are perfect and pure

Well I am a butterfly

And that’s not really true

Mother Streusel

People are happy

When a butterfly comes close

But a butterfly’s an insect

And all insects are gross

Mother Streusel

Even though we’re pretty

And we don’t give bites or stings

We’re rude and crude and smelly

And we like disgusting things

Mother Streusel

Oh sure I drink nectar

I like anything that’s wet

But that includes rotten fruit

Puddles, dung and sweat

Mother Streusel

So if I land on you

Don’t feel special that I picked you

Instead you should wash that spot

‘Cause guess what? I just licked you!

Mother Streusel

© 2014 Karyn Linnell