Hoots, Howls and Belly Growls
...poetry for little people
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Rubber Band Games
(a genetic thing)
-Joy Stalvey Barefoot
Now where, oh where, could he be?
Hadn't seen him for quite a while.
Things were a little too quiet
so I was searching his mischievous smile.
I called out from the back door,
perhaps he had gone outside,
but nature was still in order
. . . not there, I was satisfied.
Room by room, I searched the house.
That grandson was hiding somewhere.
The guest room door was closed up tight
so I figured I'd find him in there.
I opened the door to have a look
and Granddad peered up at me.
He was down on his knees, behind the bed
. . . caught, red-handed, I could see.
He looked at me with a sheepish grin;
then sighted right down his hand
at a little blond head, ducking and weaving,
as he fired off his rubber band.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
In Honor of Little Hunters Everywhere
Little Hunter
-Joy S. Barefoot
I’m just a little boy;
I don’t stand very high
but when I’m all grown up
like daddy, I’m gonna try
to kill that big old buck
that goes walking in the woods;
gonna get a big fat turkey, too.
I know it will taste good.
Then, I can take the antlers
from the big old buck I shot
and hang ‘em by the chimney;
they’ll be proud of me, a lot!
Feathers from that tukey’s tail,
I’ll carry ‘em and hold ‘em.
I’ll pull ‘em out and show ‘em;
prove I shot it, like I told ‘em.
I know
I’m just a little boy
and I can’t tote a gun
but every day I’m growing.
Mama says “You’re growing, son.”
So, when I’m all grown up
and big, just like my daddy,
I’ll go hunt that big old buck
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Shoes
My shoes are piled up by the door
-Joy S. Barefoot
Readin', Writin' and Rockin'
-Joy S. Barefoot
Marshmallow Roast
Hungry Halloween Fire
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Pot and the Kettle
-Joy S. Barefoot
Falling Leaves--
The Chair’s Dilemma
The chair got tired of being sat on
by fat and boney people.
He told the woodman building chairs,
“I’d rather be a steeple.”
The woodman observed the waiting chair
and said, “If I make you a steeple,
then you’ll be getting your bell rung
by fat and boney people!”
-Joy S. Barefoot
Victoria’s Butterfly
Soft Mr. Butterfly,
come here and flutterby
me.
Velvet wings mystify;
sit here and rest on my
Owl of the Night
Two big eyes
one big hoot
scary old owl
makes me scoot.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Parade
The "otteds"
Nonsense Rhyme
Beauty Shops
The Seashore
I run through the wind;
-Joy S. Barefoot
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Crawdad Huntin'
Books and People (Two of a Kind)
-Joy S. Barefoot
Me and Old Blue
My nose,
-Joy S. Barefoot
The Bedstead*
*a wooden or metal frame, supporting the mattress and box springs
-Joy S. Barefoot
Friday, July 2, 2010
Make a Wish
zip
zing
a flashing thing
zip
zing
a shining thing
zip
zing
gone!
(written about a night on the Blue Ridge Parkway when we laid on blankets under the night sky, watching a meteorite shower.)-Joy S. Barefoot
Johnny Pig
Little pig, little pig,
run, run, run!
Run fast, Johnny Pig
soup pot’s on.
Mama’s gonna cook a pot
of beans today.
She would like a little meat,
I heard her say.
Mama, Johnny Pig is gone.
He's out of his pen
and I can’t tell you where he is
to save my skin!
Little pig, little pig,
come back home
dinner’s over; we’re full
and soup’s all gone!
(When I was young we had a pet pig of the above name. When he was killed we wouldn’t eat the meat unless it was disguised or we were assured it was not our “Johnny Pig”.
The Boy and the Sea
They raced toward each other
the boy and the sea.
He turned and ran
with giggles of glee.
Roaring behind him
just like in a dream,
the faster he ran
the slower it seemed.
His eyes told a story
as he ran from the sea
of fear in his heart
as he raced to be free.
Crashing around him
in a thunderous roar
the sea fell about him,
white foam on the shore.
He stood in the sand
looking out at the sea,
watching the waves
rolling on, endlessly.
He begged of his mother,
“When will it stop?”
“Never”, she told him.
“The sea never stops.”
They raced toward each other
the boy and the sea,
again and again,
with giggles of glee.
-Joy S. Barefoot
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Grandpa's Visits
Morning Watch
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Serpent Surprise
Wharton Park*
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Foolish Names
Tooth Fairies
Saturday, June 19, 2010
My Secret Garden
a place to hide and play,
where no one else and find me;
where I can go and stay.
I found some flowers there
where spindly weeds have grown.
There's tunnels through the boxwoods;
the ground's as smooth as stone.
Birds sing in the trees;
spider webs hang low;
I sit up on the rock seat;
my legs swing to and fro.
Perhaps you'd like it there
to hide and run and play,
but if I share this secret place,
my secret's gone away.
-Joy S. Barefoot
Orange Pushups
sherbet,
creamy
sherbet,
waiting . . .
in the freezer
at Grandma's.
Soft sherbet
the color
of cantaloupe,
sherbet pushups
to slurp, lick,
drip and melt.
I go goofy
just thinking
of those soft
pushups
waiting . . .
in the freezer
at Grandma's.
-Joy S. Barefoot
Dining with Ladybug
on a purple coneflower
red gown; black buttons
dressed up for the dinner hour.
Here comes handsome mister bug;
coming to see Ladybug;
dressed up in her very best.
Beach Bubbles
above her twirling head
trails a plastic wand,
out of which spills
a chain of spherical rainbows
bobbing and weaving
up ,down,
’round and ’round
as her hair, like a giant paint brush,
swishes the yellow halo of hair
framing her face
where the sun
has kissed the apples
of her cheeks
too many times today.
She stretches
and reaches high,
to re-capture
spent bubbles.
She cannot hold
the rainbows,
drawn away
by ocean winds . . . .
-Joy S. Barefoot
Thunderous Dragon
with a terrible, terrible roar;
the snap of his teeth was the lightning
that sent me down to the floor.
I could hear him grumble and rumble
as he moved to the north from the south.
Under the bed, I quivered
while I watched the snap of his mouth.
The light from the flash of his teeth
made Aunt Agatha spookier still
as she hung in the frame on the wall
and I had a shivery chill.
As soon as I caught the vision
and heard his terrible roar
the windows rattled a warning;
Aunt Agatha crashed to the floor!
Then I felt his wandering footsteps
and I heard his thunderous roar
as he wandered back into the darkness
with Aunt Aggie and me on the floor.
-Joy Stalvey Barefoot
Grandpa's Phoebe Bird
He showed her nest to me,
with five blue eggs inside it;
he picked me up to see.
He said "You cannot touch them.
She'll leave the nest she's made.
She'll leave it all behind her,
and the five blue eggs she's laid."
He said to listen carefully
to her her call her name.
It's "Feebie, Feebie, Feebie".
She always calls the same.
-Joy S. Barefoot
Hoots, Howls and Belly Growls
Grandpa growled at me
while I was sitting on his lap,
just resting, peacefully
It started slow and low;
I hardly hear it coming;
got louder, louder, louder;
sounded like a bear, or something.
Now Grandpa didn't mean it;
didn't mean to growl at me
'cause I raised up to look at him
and he was sleeping,
I could see!
-Joy S. Barefoot