I Don't Like Christmas' - poems from Buckhurst Hill Community Primary School

Teachers often get in touch with me to say that their pupils have been writing poems based on my world famous poem 'I Don't Like Poetry'. The children at Buckhurst Hill, Essex, recently put a new spin on the idea. They adapted my poem to fit in with a Christmas theme. They sent me a booklet of their wonderful work, and I am delighted to be able to share a selection of their poems here. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

AI

I asked AI if I should leave my marriage. 

It collated the sum total of all the knowledge

ever accrued, mashed it together, and stripped away

its verdict – yes indeed, this thing will never work. 

I got into bed and held my wife close.

How d’you like them apples?

Joshua Seigal

Joshua Seigal Wins Reading Rocks Book Award

I am delighted to say that my latest poetry collection, Who Let the Words Out? recently won an award! The book won in the Lower Key Stage Two category in the #RR_BooksAwards, organised by the fantastic Reading Rocks. This is especially pleasing, as it was voted for my teachers and other booklovers. Thank you so much to everyone who voted for me! Here is a little video of me and Bluebell the cat, accepting the award:

Thanks so much everyone, this really means a lot! Find out more about the award here. 

 

Baby in the Staffroom

Ooey-gooey

Coochy-coo

Gather round

To get a view

Can I hold her?

Join the queue – 

Baby in the staffroom!

Legs so tiny

Eyes so wide

Mother swelling

Full of pride 

Laughter getting

Multiplied – 

Baby in the staffroom!

Hair so fluffy

Clothes so clean

Marvel at

The cosy scene

Makes a change

From the routine – 

Baby in the staffroom! 

Things have not gone 

Quite to plan 

The meeting?

It’s gone down the pan

Just tell the Head

It overran – 

Baby in the staffroom!

Ooey-gooey

Coochy-coo

Gather round

To get a view

Can I hold her?

Join the queue – 

Baby in the staffroom!

Joshua Seigal

Patricia

My wife is away so tonight

I’m in bed with Patricia. 

Patricia the Panther – the threadbare toy

my wife got when she was a little girl.

She named it Patricia after her mum’s middle name.

She keeps Patricia in the top of her wardrobe

and bellows at me whenever I threaten

to take her to the charity shop.

Patricia lives with us, rarely acknowledged

yet up there, always.

Tonight my wife is away, so I’ll lie next to Patricia,

her little paws resting on the pillow,

and I’ll kiss her goodnight.

The unseen parts, the prowling past – 

Carrie, I love all of you.

Joshua Seigal

I Can't Read Because...

I’m seriously sick, 

unusually unwell, 

powerfully poorly,

awfully afflicted, 

grimly grotty, 

really, really ropey;

I’ve a dastardly debilitation – 

a bad case of illiteration.

Joshua Seigal

To Those Diagnosed

So this is just a poem, and I’m no doctor, 

but what if you’re not that sick?

What if it’s the world that’s sick,

and you’re just doing your best to live in it,

to live with it? What if you fit imperfectly

into a world that was never built for perfection?

What if everything in the world is wonky,

and for sensing its wonkiness you are in fact

one of its less wonky bits? Hear this:

what if your head and heart are working overtime

for a corrupt boss? What if the world itself

is a corrupt boss – are you sick, or is he?

Listen to me: you’re not as askew as they say you are.

You suffer in a world ripe for suffering.

Take heart from that. And do what you need to do

to ease your pain, but let no one say

you’re sick for the feeling of it.

Joshua Seigal