Within a well-stocked garden
Sat a pumpkin and her son:
The little pumpkin sat and sighed
And looked up at the sun:
'Please tell me Mum,' the pumpkin said,
'What use on earth are we?
We sit here growing as we do
Whilst kids have fun, you see.'
His lovely mother looked across
And smiled down at her son:
When you grow big, the day will come
When we’ll have lots of fun.
'Take my advice and eat your food
And you'll grow big and strong,
And there will be a nice surprise
For us before too long.'
The summer sun shone bright and warm;
The autumn winds then came;
But still the little pumpkin thought
'Life really is a shame.
'I've watched the children all the year.
They’ve played and had such fun,
Whilst here I’ve sat, upon this earth,
Just growing in the sun.'
The wind arrived, the leaves came down
And still it was the same.
Mum Pumpkin hadn’t told the truth.
It really was a shame.
'Mum, what you said is not the truth.
It’s all a pack of lies.
My life’s so boring, as you see,
Beneath these stormy skies.'
The children picked the sweet red fruit
That grew upon the trees.
The little pumpkin felt so sad:
'Oh Mummy, answer please.
'I’m really so unhappy,
For just what use am I?
There surely are more things to do
Than growing ‘neath the sky.'
He thought he heard her answer him
As she tried to explain,
But a clap of thunder drowned her voice
And then down came the rain.
The children swept up golden leaves
And autumn nights grew long.
The flowers began to disappear
And birds sang much less song.
And the mother and her little son
Still grew a bit each day,
But the little pumpkin’s face was sad.
He felt full of dismay.
Mum Pumpkin surely could have said
What was the nice surprise,
And as he sat and thought of this
He heard the children’s cries.
Then Pumpkin and his mother
Were both taken up with pride.
They saw the family’s house appear
And soon they were inside.
The children scooped their middles out
And cut out mouths and eyes.
They disappeared but soon returned, and. . . . .
Wait for this surprise!
They put inside the pumpkins’ heads
Some candles burning bright.
So, who were the most important guests
At the party on that night?
Copyright on all my poems
I'm sorry to say that not many modern children's poets are writing poetry with a good story in their poem, or written with excellent metre and rhyme, but at the request of the children in my local primary school, and because I also like this type of poem, this is why I write in this way. It is very obvious that other teachers and children like poems like this too for they chose almost 400 of the 400 poems I'd written in 2010 for publication, including this one. It is almost impossible to get a publisher to publish the work of a new writer today and therefore many teachers are using the poems of the classic writers of the past. What a pity! I hope you like my poem. Josie