Sick Poets Competition Entries

The entries for the sick poets competition have been flooding in and below are the poems written by children aged between 8 and 12. I'm not giving too many public comments on the poems this year, as I don't want to be accused of influencing the judges' decision.

Suddenly I felt sick
I told my friend Roderick
Can I go home please miss
Karl here is a bucket, DON’T MISS
No-one came for ages and ages
Eventually mum showed up with work pages
Saying oh you can’t miss school time
So I sadly said goodbye to the rest of year nine

This wonderful poem was sent in by Jack William Benham, who is 9 years old. It's an acrostic poem, which means that the first letter of each line spells out a work or phrase. Acrostics are really frustrating to write, so congratulations to Jack for tackling this tricky poetic form.

Sick Poem

A wonderfully embellished poem by Maya Nunley, who is aged 10 and a pupil at Peek's Chapel Elementary School in the USA.

Sick Poem

A further entry from a pupil at Peek's Chapel Elementary School. This second poem, with a vivid illustration of the lava mouth theme, is by Ruthie Harrison, who is 10 years old.

A New Bug has Come To Town!
by Lillie Fitzsimons

My head is thumping
My heart is pumping
My legs are jelly
Butterflies are in my belly
My body is like lead
My eyes are itchy and red
My palms start to sweat
My body is sticky and wet
My cheeks are pink
And I just can’t think
My mind is a spin
Sickness rises from within
Why do I feel as if I’m wrapped in a rug?
I know why - I’ve got the love bug!

An excellent poem about being love sick, rather than sick sick, by 10 year old Lillie, who lives in Littleover, Derby,

Doctor, Doctor
by Miriam Barker-Lanzi

Doctor, doctor
I think my teddy is sick
We were playing in the garden
And he ate a stick.
I'm worried Doc, will he survive?
Does he need an operation?
Will he come out alive?
Has he got pneumonia?
Doctor, is he to survive?
Has he got lymphoma?
Or a faulty heart?
If it were to stop
You could surely make it start.
Come, there is nothing wrong with your ted
Said the Doctor
He merely needs a day in bed.

Miriam is 12 and lives in Australia. It can sound patronising to describe someone's poem as sweet, but I thought Miriam's teddy bear poem was sweet, cute, cuddly, adorable and, most of all, very, very funny.

I'm sickly, I'm spotty
by Chelsea Tate

I'm sickly, I'm spotty
I'm ever so dotty
Is it measles or mumps?
I don't have any lumps

Phew, seven days later
I'm over the worst
And all of my spots
Have finally burst

My temperature's down
I've lost my frown
Oh no! I'm well
It's back to the school bell

Ten year old Chelsea lives on the Isle of Wight. I was particularly captivated by the poem's opening and the spotty / dotty rhyme. Very well done.

When My foot had a Heart Attack
by Barnaby Harrison

When my foot had a heart attack it went all spotty and then turned black.
It wiggled and squirmed and bloated and swelled then it turned and throbbed like hell.
I tried to give it cpr but it replied by coughing very hard.
I yelled to mum who called 999 and they said to her he’s had his time.
My mum took out the adrenalin advanced and said
“I’m going in.”
She stabbed it with the gleaming point my foot replied by going still.
The next day I told the teacher who gave me angry look in the end I wasn't believed and got twenty lines in the book.

Barnaby is 9 years old and lives in England. I was really taken by Barnaby's poem, which resonates with a lyrical use of language: 'It wiggled and squirmed and bloated and swelled' is simply wonderful. At the same time, I was slightly concerned by the depth and breadth of the author's medical knowledge; too many hours watching Bizarre ER, perhaps?

As red as a rose
by Samuel Stubbs
& Devon-Ormerod Banks

I am feeling sick.
What should I do?
Should I get a bag?
Or go to the loo.

I’m really ill.
I’m still in bed.
I’m looking green.
With a banging head.

I’m feeling hot.
I’m as red as a rose.
I’m getting a rash.
And I’ve got a runny nose.

I’m feeling dizzy.
I’m feeling weak.
Perhaps I’m gonna collapse

A poem jointly created by Samuel and Deven Ormerod, aged 8 and 9 respectively, who are pupils at Lower Darwen Primary School. This poem and one that follows were sent in by their class teacher, Mrs. Bhatti, who wrote We've had lots of fun writing funny poems for the competition and i'm sending you two that I have chosen. Well, its certainly a very funny and well crafted poem and I'm a particular fan of unexpected endings. Excellent.

Photographer’s Nightmare
by Lucy Sharp
& Lisobelle Hanson-Mahon

Yesterday was silly
I’m lying in the house
I’m going on the PC but
I cannot find the mouse

I’m going on the wedding page
It should be there by now
The story of the couple Anne & Jim
Is coming on right now

My tummy’s feeling funny
It’s swirling round inside
I really couldn’t help it
I threw up on the bride!

I’m looking at the bride
She’s looking down at me
I’m sorry but I have to go
I really need a wee!

Lucy and Lisobelle, who are both nine, have produced a very funny, but also quite rude poem. I really enjoyed it and am greatly encouraged that Mrs. Bhatti chose it as one of her favourites to send in. The third verse works really well, particulalry as there the ambiguity over what I threw up on the bride! means in reality.

I'm Ill, I'm Ill
by Elliot Cross

I’m ill, I’m ill, I need a pill
Call the doc, I’ve got a chill
I’m covered in spots
I think I’ve got chickenpox.

I’m lying in bed
With a poorly head

My poor little teddy
His name is Freddy
He is covered in spots
And has got lots and lots.

Once again the nurse comes round
This time she has a needle
I felt like a scared weasel
Suddenly I go pop
Then I drop.
I awake in my bed
To discover
No poorly head or chill
In fact I’m not ill

It’s was all a dream.

Elliot is 11 years old and live in England. I'm usually scared of using complex rhyming schemes, but Elliot has pulled it off triumphantly, producing a very funny poem with a clever twist at the end. I particularly like the appearance of a 'Pop Goes the Weasel' echo mid-poem. Congratulations.

I've Got a Massive Spot
by Amelia Stockwell

I've got a massive spot on the end of my chin
If I touch it, my sister jabs me with a safety pin
I've got a bogie growing up my nose
But if I pick it, it just grows and grows
I've got verrucas on my heels
But when I nibble them, they peel and peel
I've got a rather itchy tummy
And when I lick it, it tastes quite yummy
I've got a wart sprouting on my arm
It smells of delicious strawberry lipbalm
I've got a shocking case of wind
Because my beans are always tinned
I've got a rotten, broken tooth
'Cos I can't keep away from the candyfloss booth

I'd better stay in bed today-
Who knows what germs might come my way??

A very well executed poem by nine year old Amelia, who lives in Chelmsford, Essex. It's silly, but makes sense - I've got a wart sprouting on my arm, It smells of delicious strawberry lipbalm, - and although it seems to be meandering, it reaches a funny, but perfectly sensible, conclusion.

I Was Sick Last Week
by  Toska Ukaj

I was sick last week
I was very meek
And my mum said it was because I payed my sick friend to sneeze on me!
NO! in fact I got it for free

Tosca was nine years old when he wrote this poem, but is ten now. In many ways, Toska's is the perfect poem. It's short, it rhymes and it's funny, somehow managing to achieve narrative flow and a punch line in just four lines (although some poetry purists might think the third line is a bit of cheat). An excellent poem, well done.

That Fox
by Daisy Mustill-King

One gloomy night
I had a fright
I’ll never sleep again
I caught the pox from a fox
But I didn’t catch his name.

One stormy night
When I was brave
I went to seek him out
I caught a cold along the way
And then I grew a snout.

I carried on
Through nights and days
To find that fox again
I think he is avoiding me
‘Cause he’s the one to blame.

My Unlucky Day
by Daisy Mustill-King

I’ve got headaches in my toes
I’ve also got a runny nose
I’ve got worms wriggling about
And a verucca that makes me shout

I’ve got nits,
A few head lice too.
I’ve got quite a cold,
How about you?

I asked the doctor
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Oh that’s simple
You’ve got fleas!”

“Well I’ve itched and scratched
Since yesterday.
What? Impetigo you say?
It’s definitely my unlucky day.”

A welcome return for Daisy, who was the winner of the Fussy Eater poetry competition last year. Daisy is now eight years old and her poetry is growing in confidence and maturity - I'm fortunate enough to see some of Daisy's other poems, which are more serious pieces, rather than funny competition entries.

Confessions of a Bug
by Darcy John Farwell

Dont wash your hands let me multiply
and i'll send your temperture right up high,
you cant remove me with a pull or a tug
coz im your local nasty bug.
I went on a date with a garden slug
then infected her coz im a bug,
poor slug got ill and so did worm
coz we went on a double date with my mate germ.
Modern technology not us we are wireless,
coz we are part of a gang and the leader is virus,
we will multiply and make you ill,
dont thank us really it's no big deal!.
But then come the antibodies to fight right back,
they get the glory, we get the sack.
I'll try to return but not for much longer
because as i get weak you seem to get stronger.

This is my second entry for me because after i wrote about death i started to think about bugs and germs like a little gang of nastys, hope you like it. I more than liked it, I really loved it. John describes himself as nearly nine and I think that he a wonderful poetic talent, particularly for one so young.

by Joseph kelsall

I dont have to go to school today,
my mum agrees with me hooray,
I think ive got the flu again.

Then my dad came home form work,
his leg fell off which made me frown,
i choked and choked and i fell down!

Joseph is 11 years old and lives in England. I shy from describing other people's poems as nonsense verse, but a lines like Then my dad came home form work, his leg fell off which made me frown, are both slightly silly and very funny.

We've received a sudden rash of poems written by pupils at Garstang High School (I mean rash in the nicest possible sense). I've put up initially the poems where the authors have included their ages and/or school year, as per the rules, and Timmy is busy chasing the remainder for this all important missing information. I'm slightly suspicious that their teacher might have tried to slip their poem past me, masquerading as a pupil!

Would I lie to you??
by Georgina Procter

I must lie in bed
Cough and sneeze that's all I do!
Would I lie to you?

I’m hot I’m cold
I must have a tempricher
Would I lie to you ?

I feel so weak
Look here is my mums signature
... Would I lie to you?

I am SO annoyed
Oh I do hate being ill!
Would I lie to you?

Miss I will think of you
I will miss all the teachers
Would I lie to you ?

I’m so bored now
I sit in bed on my own
Oh why did I fake being ill!!

Georgina's a pupil at Garstang High School and her poem, 'Would I Lie to You', has many wonderful touches, particularly the ambiguity between the title and the opening line.

There was a Young Girl
by Jacob Smith

there was a young girl
her name was pearl
she got up with a moan
and started to groan
`mum mum ifeel sick`
get out of bed you dumb old twit
the doctor came and said she was ill
so he sat her down and gave her a pill
you have the measels the doctor said
so tou wont be able to get out of bed
what so icant watch tv
yes but only a documentary

Jacob's poem is trundling along quite happily, but really comes alive with the last two lines. Is watching a documentary some form of punishment?

I'm sick sick sick
by Lucy Crooke

I can not go to school today,
I think in bed I’ll stay,
I have got the chicken pox
Just look at all the spots
They’re so big, red and round
It makes me want to flop to the ground
Oh how I hate being so ill
It’s worse when I have to take the pill
I’m sick sick sick
It’s definitely not a trick
My ears are really sore
It feels like I’m in the war
My voice is slowly fading away
That’s why I can’t go to school today
Mummy mummy can you stay
Next to me for the rest of the day
Don’t be so ridiculous
Get downstairs and stop making a fuss!

Lucy is 11 years old and in year 7 at Garstang High School. Beautifully rhymed and with a definite narrative thread. Well done Lucy.

by Mark Butler

It's not the test
I need A rest

Mark Butler is a pupil at Garstang High School. Apart from the slight eccentric capitalisation - did the caps lock get stuck, I wonder - there's much to enjoy in this poem.

by Jordan Butler


Eleven year old Jordan is a pupil at Garstang High School. Clearly both a football and a poetry fanatic, Jordan's poem really comes to life with it's clever, but unusual, rhymes.

by Vicky Cookson

Mum i cant get out of bed
I have a really bad head
I think i've got the flu
My friends have got it too
I feel really sick and ill
I need a massive pill
I have lots of spots
I think i've got chicken pox
Im still in bed
and im going really red
I ran downstairs
While brushing my hair
I ran round the bend
Whilst rushing to my friends
I had lots of fun
and had an ice bun.

Vicky is 11 years old and attends Garstang High School. A nonsense ending to an otherwise quite sensible poem. Fun, all the same.

by Stacey Crook

I cannot go to school today,
I didn’t feel well all yesterday.
I’ve got mumps and bumps,
Measles and lumps
At home I will just stay.

I think I have the chicken pox,
Just look at all the spots.
I have a dry throat,
I need to wear a coat.
“You look a little pale,
Oh here comes the mail.”

My throat is dry, my eyes are red,
So I’m going to stay in bed!
My temperature stays,
Looks like I’m not at school today.

My belly buttons not shrinking,
Suddenly I feel like drinking.
I feel a little better mum,
Can I go to school mum?
She says yes,
So off I go to school today!!

Stacey is 11 and in Year 7 at Garstang High School. She clearly understands the interaction of rhyme and rhythm, as the perfectly formed line I’ve got mumps and bumps, Measles and lumps demonstrate.

Sick Poem
by Kay Sharpe

oh mum its school + I'm very ill
I just can't go to school
please don't make me go today
I know that is what the teacher would say.

I'm realy not well
can you not tell
please try and under stand ok
I gasp and I choke
I'm basically broke
I need to stay at home today.

Kay has taken 'the stay away from school because I'm ill route with her poem', which works perfectly well, but I was hoping for something really unexpected to happen.

I Think I'm Sick
by Jacob Smith

I think im sick I dont know why
It might have been when i swallowed a butterfly
I felt it fly into my mouth
I am screaming in my house
I coughed and coughed but it would not go
I sounded like a angry crow
I felt it moving down my throat
I realy felt i was going to choke
Finally it reached my tummy
It flutterd and flutterd and made me feel funny
I felt it move IM GOING TO BE SICK!
Fetch a buckeyt quick quick quick
And in the bottom of the bucket the butterfly lay

Jacob's poem is wonderfully surreal and so just the sort of poem I enjoy. Yet everything portrayed in the poem might, could, quite possibly would happen, particularly if you walked around with your mouth open for a long time!

I Woke Up
by Alicia Price

I woke up this morning
feeling so fine
my legs were strong
my hair was devine

but what is this
i feel so numb
i think i have just
broken my thumb

oh mum please help
i'm turning blue
oh please dont say
i've got the flu

my mum said to me
there's no need to go red
just go up stairs
and tuck up up in bed!

I loved Alicia's poem for the couplet my legs were strong, my hair was divine. There's nothing like focusing on the thing that really matters.

I Feel Sick
by Eva Duckworth

I really think i'm ill today
But my Mum says I will only play
I really never get my own way
Home is the only option for me
I think I've got the flu
Oh what am I going to do
Mum won't keep me at home
I think I'm going to be sick
Oh look at that clock go tick.

Eva, who is a pupil at Garstang High School, has written a poem quite like Vicky Cookson's, in that it has a nonsense ending to an otherwise quite sensible poem, but it's enjoyable all the same.

Mum, I Said with a Cry
by Jack Billington

Mum I said with a cry
My throat is very dry
My heart is pounding out my ears
I am belting out lots of tears

The room is spinning round and round
I think I have the bug thats going around
I think i've got a type of flu
My friend has got it too

All he says is aahchoo!
He also belts out boo hoo
Shall we go to his house for advice
I hears hes got the new games device

Jack poem has a lot of pleasing touches and reaches an unexpected, but entirely satisfactory conclusion.

Teacher Please Can I Go Home
by Jessica Jones

1.Teacher please can I go home,
I really don't feel good.
It's nothing to do with the spelling test,
It's because i've got the bug.

2.And even though I'll be tucked up tight,
I'll think of you in class.
And even though I should be spelling,
I'm sure you'll let it pass.

3.I feel GREAT,
I get served in a tick.
And know one really has to know,
I'm not really sick.

A gentle and warm poem by Jessica about missing a spelling test. I'm not sure everyone would share the poem's sentiment about their teacher And even though I'll be tucked up tight, I'll think of you in class. Sweet, or perhaps tongue in cheek.

Mum I really can’t go to school
by Chris Dixon

I have an overactive drool
My head is hotter than a fire
Honest mum I’m not a liar
Please please please mum can I stay of
I have the very worst throat cough
Can’t you see my face is bright red
if i go to school today I will end up dead.

A most dramatic, perhaps even melodramatic, poem by Chris, who's 11 and attends Garstang High School.

I feel ill...
by Ellie Sloane

I am very sorry miss,
But I am afraid that I am Ill,
There’s not a lot I can do, apart from take a pill.

I feel floppy and I am very sorry,
But what is there to do?

I can’t sing, I can’t dance,
Nor spell nor write,
I think it’s a real fright!

Maybe it’s the flu,
I cough I sneeze… ACHOO!
Sniff sniff I don’t want to spread my germs,
Oh no! Maybe it’s the worms!!

Oh yes we have that test today,


Ellie is aged 12 and is a pupil at Garstang High School. More test avoidance in Ellie's poem, which shines with the lines I feel floppy and I am very sorry, But what is there to do?

Feeling Sick
by Lauren Duffy

Hot, cold, sniff and cough
Duvet on, duvet off.
Sore throat, aching head
My best friend is my bed.

Glass of water and a pill
Try to take away the chill.
Take it easy, lots of rest
Can't get comfy, what way's best?

Head ache gone, temperature drops
My nose isn't red, my sneezing stops
No more shivers, or cold feet
Suddenly i want to eat.

Feeling stronger, out of bed
No more banging in my head,
Pack my bag, write a letter
Back to school, im feeling better!

Lauren is in Year 7 at Garstang High School in Lancashire. She's written a wonderfully punchy poem with its staccato rhythm Hot, cold, sniff and cough and assured rhymes. Excellent.

by Katie Russell

I cannot go to school today!
At home I’m going to stay!
I have chickenpox and bumps,
Measles and red dotted lumps,
Oh look at all the spots!
My belly button is shrinking,
My eyes hurt when I’m blinking,
My nose hurts, I cannot smell,
My ears are sore I can’t hear the bell,
My head is burning,
My tummy’s curdling,
Mummy mummy can you tell?
She said smartly,
I think it’s the case of your new teacher,
Now go downstairs your breakfast is on the table.

It's the first time I've heard a new teacher described as an illness, but in Katie's very funny poem it all makes perfect sense. As you might be able to guess, Katies is 12 and a pupil at Garstang High School.

by Lauren Hart

Oh no the test is today
I think I've got chicken pocks I have to say
Its nothing to do with that red pencil
I think I need a pill
I think I've got a high fever
its nothing to do with physics with sir
or the thermometer in this cup of tea
today i really dont feel like me

I think i'm going to say at home
I think i will try not to moan
I think I need a long rest
and its nothing to do with the big test

Lauren is 12 and attends Garstang High School. It's extraordinary how many of the poems link the twin themes of illness and missing school.

I told you so. . .
by Lucy Amber Davies

I broke my arm today,
When I had just gone out to play,
Mum has got really mad
It is making me quite sad,
Just cause she said “get down from there”,
Once or twice..., it isn’t fair!
I was only having a try,
How else am I to learn to fly?
Now I scream as they pull and poke,
The doctors think it is a joke,
They forced me to lie in this bed,
My mum came from home with the wrong Ted,
It all happened near the village hall,
And now I don’t have to go to school!!!

Lucy, who's 11 and lives in Herefordshire wrote, This is my poem about when i broke my arm. I absolutely adore the lines I was only having a try, How else am I to learn to fly? Genius!

Ill, hospital, death.
by Mia Quinn

I go to school
I don't feel well,
I feel ill
So school, freewill!

As I get home
I begin to rub my head,
I walk and fall
And listen to what my mum said.

"Oh My!
Oh me!
Dad! Aunt!
Phone the docters quickly!

When I wake up
I begin to see the light,
Now to all of you out there
I must say, "Good night!"

Mia is aged 10 and has forgotten to say where she lives - perhaps it was the fall. It's quite a surreal poem and certainly the most arresting title that we're has so far in he competition.

by Helena Smith

Being diabetic,
Is really quite hectic.
You need to take a pill,
That makes you feel ill.
You stay in bed all day,
And don't go out to play.
You see,
Being diabetic,
Is really quite hectic.

A funny poem about diabetes by Helena, who is 8 and lives in Stroud, Gloucestershire. I read the poem with particular interest as Timmy, my adorable black cat, was diagnosed as a diabetic about 2 months ago and I now have to give him insulin injections morning and evening. Hectic is just about right!

by Helena Smith

Yesterday I pretended I had the flu,
Yes, I painted my face bright blue!
I painted purple spots on my legs,
Didn't want to collect the chicken's eggs.
I painted my tummy a dark dark red,
Because I really wanted to stay in bed.
Today I woke up,
And wham bam slam!
It's Saturday now,
I missed Friday's exam!

A second poem by Helena, this time on an altogether lighter subject. I really liked the couplet I painted my tummy a dark dark red, Because I really wanted to stay in bed.

by Helena Smith

Call Doctor Bill!
I'm very very ill.
I've been on the loo all day,
While all my friends ran out to play.
Oooh oooh oooh!
Just going to the loo!

A final offering, which is definitely the least serious of Helena's three poems.

I am Ill You See
by Ruby Gwilliam

Mum I’m very ill,
I have to stay at home,
I have caught a chill
from my skin to the bone.

My teacher will send me back,
Just by looking at my state,
She’ll send me home with a rumbley tummy,
And nothing in my plate.

If you don’t keep me here,
I will have to die,
You wouldn’t want that
Because all you would do is cry.

You see I have to stay at home,
To look after my teddies,
So they won’t be alone.

By the way,
Did I tell you it’s insect day!!

Ruby is 9 years old and lives in Bath, England. A charming poem which paints a vivid picture of Ruby at home looking after her teddies while her teachers enjoy their insect day! Excellent.

I really feel QUITE sick!
by Ingrid McNeilage

My mother says she cannot tell ,
My father says I look quite well,
My brother says he hopes I’m ill,
My sister says I should lie still.

The medicines not nice at all,
It makes my stomach creep and crawl,
The doctor hasn’t any knowledge,
I’m not so sure he went to college.

To school I just could not be lured,
There are lots of ways it might be cured,
But all the CLEVER people say,
That I should spend the day away!

A technically well executed and very funny poem by Ingrid McNeilage, who lives in Britain and is 10 years old. My favourite couplet is The doctor hasn’t any knowledge, I’m not so sure he went to college, but I also enjoyed the sibling rivalry wrapped up in the line My brother says he hopes I’m ill. Well done!

I Hope I Die When I'm 82
by Darcy John Farwell

I hope i die when i'm 82 and not when im 24,
coz by the age of 82 my body will say "no more",
for i know i'll shrink and aquire a stink
and my nose will sprout out hair,
i may pee my pants have outburst and rants
and yell that lifes not fair.
When my sentences start with "in my days"
and i moan how loud the music plays
i know i'll be thinkin oh when can i die
and leave this planet with a big GOODBYE.

A poem by a quite precociously talented 8 year old, Darcy John Farwell from Winchester in Hampshire. It is a funny poem, but at the same time it shows an extraordinary insight into the process of growing old. I have left the poem in its largely lowercase state, as the poet is clearly a disciple of the great ee cummings.

A Bug In My Tummy?
by Isabelle B. Graham

I had a sore tummy,
Just afew days ago,
My mum said i had a BUG in my stomach,
But then I was listening to the opera song, Figaroo

I didn't understand,
A bug in my tummy!
Was it green or red?
Then my nose went runny!

That night I wandered,
Was it kind or cruel?
What did it do?
Did it eat gruel?

Was it a him or a her?
But soon I vomited, OH NO
I saw a little bug in that pool of vomit,
It was green and called Poe!!!!

The email accompanying the poem read My name is Isabelle Beth Graham. I am 10 years old and love writing poems! and concluded Hope you liked my poem :). I certainly did enjoy Isabelle's poem and thought it showed an excellent use of rhyme, although I felt a little bit queasy reading the line I saw a little bug in that pool of vomit.

by Ellen Stacey

My brain has Ornithophobia
 It is the truth I'm speaking
 Everytime it sees a bird
 It is easy, it will be fleeing

 I'm sure my finger has Bogyphobia
 It is quite clear
 Everytime I pick my nose
 It shreiks and hurts my ear

 My eyes have Anablephobia
 They dont look up at all
 Even when I say "LOOK UP!"
 On my face a piano will fall

Exuse me Doc , how am I...


Ellen is 10 years old and lives in Dublin, Ireland. An intriguing entry, which has a feel of nonsense verse, yet is dealing with real phobias (except perhaps Bogyphobia, which hasn't made it into my medical dictionary yet). My favourite phobia is pogonophobia, which is the fear of beards. Now, how odd its that.

I Am Ill Bill
by Elena Bateman

I lay on the chair
With my silver hair
There’s not much I can do
So I have to run to the loo
I beg you don’t tell bill
Because he could get seriously ill
And I love him like I do jam tarts
But there the thing that’s caused me to barf
And whenever I laugh
Something comes out my other half
When I hear my tummy gurgle
I call my uncle Fergal
He said he’ll be over soon
That could be a problem
because he’s on the moon
I also have a sore head
so I’ll have to just stay in bed...
there a fault in my amazing plan
I really want some cheese flan
then bill told me he need me to clean out the bin
I told him I wasn’t very well and I’d been sick in the bin
But he said you’ve been fine all day
So maybe I should have told him anyway...

A most enjoyable, if at times graphic, poem by Elena who's aged 11 and lives in Bath, England. My favourite line, And I love him like I do jam tarts. Well done.

Spots, Shots & Second Thoughts
by Malini Srikrishna

My whole body feels really sore
All my joints are aching
School's not out and it's a bore
Worst thing is Dad thinks I'm faking!

My temperature is over a hundred and two
My body is covered with red spots
To top that I look pink and blue
Medicine? So far I've had lots!

Mom says she'll take me for some shots
The doctor thinks they're necessary
Now I'm having second thoughts
Sitting in that clinic sure is scary!

On the second day of my sickness
It was a bright and sunny day
I don't know how but I was cured
And I ran outside to play!

Malini,who is 11 and comes from Bangalore in India, wrote Hi,The poem that I have written, 'Spots, shots and second thoughts' is about a girl who fakes a sickness due to boredom. I enjoyed writing the poem and hope you enjoy it too! I certainly did enjoy it, Malini.

Flu Bug
by Alice Balgarnie

I’m colourless, you’re odourless,
I’ve lost my sense of smell,
I’ve lost the art of walking,
And my appetite as well.

My body’s quickly tiring of sitting up in bed,
And a massive mound of cushions
Support my aching head.

My nose drips like a waterfall,
It just will not stop running,
I can’t really breathe at all,
The flu bug is pretty cunning.

So, please, PLEASE make me better,
‘Cause being ill’s no fun,
I wanna see my friends again
And walk and swim and run!

A just loved the the opening line of Alice's poem, which really seemed to capture the essence of suffering from flu, and the intense desire to get better. Alice is 11 years old and lives in Cheltenham, England.

Day Off School
by Joanna Taylor

I’m ill, I’m afraid
Can’t come and play.
Perhaps we could arrange
For another day?

I’m ill again
It’s always me.
I bet I can’t eat
Sorry, it’s PIZZA for tea?

I’m ill to be sure
Mum said it’ll go
I’ve just checked my forehead
And my temperature’s too low.

I’m better now
After all that rest
Its Saturday tomorrow
And I missed Friday’s test!

Joanna, who lives in Cheshire, wrote in her email I have written a poem about a sick child for your competition. I am 12 and I have just written my poem, it took about 10 minutes. I have tried to make it light hearted and enjoyable for a younger audience. The story is of a little girl (or boy) who has a test but is pretending to be ill. S/he leaves little clues through out the poem that she is not really ill. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you, Joanna, for a most entertaining poem.

I have copied the poem exactly as it arrived in Nisse's email, as I didn't want to upset the artistic integrity of her most enjoyable (and colourful) creation.

by Henrietta Moore

My tummy’s really sore
But I can’t take it any more!
I really don’t know why
But it’s best that I don’t lie!

My throat is drying out
Enough to make me SCREAM and shout!
But obviously I cant
Well anyway I shan’t!

I cannot attend school today
I get to miss the Christmas play!
Is there anything else that I can say?

I get to lie in bed
With a flannel on my head
“That will help” Mum said
Now I get to see uncle Fred!!
I can’t see Bella, because she’s dead.

What if that happens to me?!
Mum says “Don’t be silly and eat you’re tea!”
How does she know, what I’ll be
Forget that stuff, it’s only free.

But back to the subject
I feel unwell
Well anyway I bet you can tell
My head is like a ringing bell
It’s like, stuck together with hair gel

The pain, is vain
I feel insane!
But I am off school
And it’s not cool!

Henrietta is 10 years old and lives in England. She said in her email I hope you enjoyed it! It was origianlly written by me and i loved writing it! I did enjoy Henrietta's poem and its slightly nonsensical feel, although you have to be both a brave and accomplished poet to begin a verse But back to the subject.

Mummy I'm Feeling Ill
by Caitlin Beagan

"Mummy I'm feeling ill" I said
She put her palm to my head
Then she yelped "oh ouch
Now you lie down on that couch"
I had a go too
My hand was burnt right through
Mum was on the phone
So I sat all alone
I wasn't feeling good
Wasn't in a happy mood

"Mummy I'm feeling sick"
She replied "I better get the bucket quick!"
My throat was sore
I couldn't take it any more

"Mummy I've bashed my head"
"Oh my goodness" she said
She ran right out the kitchen door
My head was bleeding and very sore
She looked at my face
She was in disgrace
"You silly boy,
You throw yourself around like a stuffed toy"
HEY! Where was my bug
I stood up and gave her a mighty hug!

Caitlin is 9 years old and I lives in Edinburgh, Scotland. I particularly liked Caitlin's poems because it seemed really to evoke the feeling of being ill and because it had such a sweet ending.

I'm Sick
by Amy Smith

I'm sick, I'm sat in bed,
Oh, I really have hurt my head,
Oh No , I'm going to be sick,
I better get to the toilet, Quick!
Mom sent the doctor ,
His name is Mr.Hocter,
Ok , I admit , I'm not ill,
there's a school test tomorrow,
I'm going to get into trouble with Mr.Hill.

Amy is 12 years old and lives in England. Can school really be so bad that pupils would go to such lengths to avoid it? If it inspires such good poems, it's almost worth it.

Pigeon Pox
by Kennedie Peters-Close

I'm a very quiet person
I like to stand quite still
The only problem is
Pigeons make me ill

I'm made of fine marble
So can't you see
Pigeons seem to enjoy
Landing on me

I'm looking quite pale
I have pigeon pox
Boy do I look frail
What are these white dots!?

Kennedie lives in Eden, Ontario, Canada and is 10 years old. Her email read, I wrote this poem on September 6 2009. I hope you like it! Thanks for the opportunity to do what I love. I thought Kennedie's poem was both clever and funny. To write about illness is an inanimate object in such an animated way shows a truly inventive mind. Congratulations.

My Teddy Bear Has The Chicken Pocks
by Maisie Twigger

It was a Monday, when it happened
I woke up and he was just lay there
I could tell he was ill from the start
I refused to go anywhere!!!

There was only one red spot at first
Then two ,three, four and five
He also developed a fever
He was barely alive !!!

A new spot came each day
My sister would laugh and laugh
I had almost gave up hope
So I took him in the bath!!!

By hot water
He was cured
Then the next day
I found my sisters lipstick hoard

A sweet and very funny poem by Maisie Twigger, who is aged 12. I've had very great concern about cruelty to teddy bears ever since my next door neighbour, a feral child called Caroline Godber, threw my teddy bear out of her bedroom window when I was six. The bear lost an eye in the incident and is still awaiting restorative surgery!

by Rebecca Adcock

My tummy's feeling funny,
It has been since last night,
After all those sweets I ate,
It's been feeling a bit tight.

My tummy's feeling funny,
It feels fit to burst,
Perhaps it was the three-course meal,
I ate before the sweets,
Ooh! Now it really hurts.

The next thing I really couldn't help,
It was just to tempting,
The midnight snack I ate,
Of mum's chocolate cake,
Has made my tummy groan,
Well it was all my fault. I really shouldn't moan.

Then why is my tummy rumbling?
If it's so bad it's turning green?
I just woke up! Oh my oh my,
It was all a silly dream!

My head doesn't feel too comfy,
And my stomach is suddenly wrenching!
I have a terrible feeling.
Where has my pillow gone?

I had to run to the toilet,
Well, there's one mystery solved,
I must have got so hungry,
That into my stomach, my pillow has dissolved!!

My throat feels really dry,
Ugh, there's something in my mouth,
Grosse! It's a feather from my pillow!
I'd better pick it out!!

Rebecca, who is 10 years old and lives in England, has written a funny poem about the effects of overeating and of eating inappropriate household items. I'm not sure whether you really could eat a pillow, but the illusion is very satifying.

I Have A Fever
by Erin Benson

I Have A Fever
I woke up on a sunny day
as the clouds drifted by,
I felt all sick and wobbley,
I had no idea why,

Mum looked at my suspiously
as I crawled across the floor,
just as she opened her mouth to speak
I sneezed her out the door!

Mum says I have a fever
and that my temperature's really high,
Looks like I got out of school
and for once I didn't try!

Another funny poem about school avoidance, and this is a particulalry good example of the genre. It's by Erin, who is 10 years old and lives in England.

I Slumped out of the Bed of Heavenly Bliss
by Eryn Fflur

I slumped out of the bed of heavenly bliss
And reluctantly pulled on my socks
I saw red blotches all over my body
Aaah! I had chicken pox!

I could pretend at school that I'd had a fight,
Between this tough guy and me
I'd won, but been heavily bruised,
It'd certainly raise my popularity.

But suddenly, Mum came in
Apparently she'd lost her specs.
"What's going on in here?" she queried
Oh, whatever next???

But she said,"Stay in bed, get plenty of rest,"
"Let's just pray, and hope for the best"
Strangely, I could watch tv better with lenses ON back then
I'll be making sure that this happens again!

Eryn is 11 years old and lives at Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, Anglesey, Wales. An excellent poem by Eryn and a particularly arresting opening line, I slumped out of the bed of heavenly bliss.

by Jade Gullidge

There was a boy called pete
Who had an addiction to sweets
His mum said no, they will have to go
Pete was sad he felt quite drab
He said maybe tommorow
Todays tommorow he let them go
Suddenly he felt bizzare
no sweets for a week i feel quite weak
He looked in the mirror
He had a rash he looked liked a bowl of corned beef hash
Pete said no this rash has to go
He took his sweet sack and his normal shade of skin returned back
There was a boy called pete
Who had an addiction to sweets
And he'll never let them go!!!

An intriguing poem about a boy addicted to sweets by Jade, who is 11 and lives in Porchester. I wonder if there is a degree of autobiography in the poem - except the boy thing, of course.

He's Dead
by Isaac Doel

When I lay upon the sofa,
pretending I was dead,
my sister came in and said:
“He's dead, He's died,
He's almost certainly been fried!”
I opened my eyes then rolled them round,
She screamed then fell straight to the ground
“HA HA” I said, “I think you'll find,
your the one whose dead!”

A masterful poem by Isaac, who is 9 and lives in the UK. The themes of sibling rivalry and death may not seem propitious, but it's a really funny and well structured poem.

Seasick, a picture poem

This beautifully composed and illustrated poem is a collaborative work by two 11 year old, Amy Foster and Cerys Lawson, who are both from England. Who could not be enchanted by a final line Sick flying!!!!!!!!!! with a full ten exclamation marks.

A Short-Lived Illness
by Kiera Rose

I tried to tell my mother that
I think I've caught the flu!
I'm sneezing and I'm coughing
With a burning fever, too.

"You cannot take a sickie, dear"
Is what I'm always told
And no-one will believe me
When I say I've caught a cold.

So I trudge to school, feeling ill
But when I reach the gates
I suddenly forget that I am sick
And run towards my mates.

Kiera, who is aged 12, lives in London. I particularly like Kiera's poem as it is the exact opposite of most of our expectations, that school is a horrible place to be avoided whether you're well or ill.

I Feel Sick!
by Jack Furber

My Tummy’s feeling weird today,
I really don’t know why?
Maybe it’s from yesterday,
From grandma’s apple pie.

I did have quite a lot of it,
And that I do admit,
I really, really couldn’t help it,
My mouth said ‘Try a bit!’

I felt some sick come up my neck,
It tasted rather eeewww!
I didn’t really know what to do,
So I just ran off to the loo.

And that was where I threw up sick,
It wasn’t nice at all!
That taught me a big valuable lesson,
DON’T be such a pig!

Jack is 12 years old and lives in England. Jack has taken the visceral approach to our sick poets theme, but his poem is delivered with such panache that I'm sure he can be forgiven. My favourite line is It tasted rather eeewww!, which captures perfectly the indeterminate taste of sick.

My Sore Leg
by Alanah Collins

I woke up this morning
My leg was really sore
I tried to walk down the stairs
But crashed into the door

My mum comes up screaming
And says "What a relief,
I heard a very loud bang
I thought you were a thief."

She takes me down the stairs
Sits me down on a seat
She asks if i'm cozy
And puts a pillow at my feet

My mums putting the washing out
She has lost her peg
And wait until i tell her
I never really had a sore leg.

A great poem with a twist in the tail by Alanah, who is 12 years old and lives in Port Glasgow, Scotland. The kindness od Mum's is another strong theme that is coming through in a number of poems - ever when, as in this case, they are cruelly deceived!

by Aarthi Padmagirisan

Oh! no its monday morning
with a test which is boring
What can I do?
Act as if I'm having flu?

I took out the thermometer,
and used as an Escapo-meter,
I dipped in the hot milk
as I saw the last stars blink,

The mercury raised,
As I thought I was wise
But no! Not too nice
I noticed another problem arise

What if my mother touches me?
I've to go with stitches on my knee
Now,no other go,
To escape,
but, to go......

Aarthi is 12 years old and lives in Dindugul, Tamilnadu, India. This is another poem on the theme of illness as an escape from school, but it's very inventive and I love the idea of an Escapo-meter. Where do you think I can buy one?

by Jay Gilson

I found a spot on my head,
docter said go to bed,
I don't think it helped when I swallowed some led ,
DR. Phill said have this pill,
it's from my aunty lil,
from when she was ill
So instead I started to rub in some cream,
only to wake up from a dream,
thats so annoying i said
i was enjoying that ice cream.

My Head is a poem by Jay Gilson, who is 10 years old and lives in South Wales. Some people might think it rude to describe other people's poems as nonsense verse, but the poem has a definite nonsensical feel to it, which I love.

by Sophie Marron

"I've got the 'Oopy Gloopy Rash' I've confirmed it in my book.
I know you wont believe me , mum, but for proof just take a
"It looks alot like pen" she said "plus the temperature is fine
on your cheek, im quite amazed your layed in bed as your
assesments are this week".
"But im oh so quite hot and my eyes are bloodshot oh mum
please just accept that im ill , ive taken the test and im in need
for a rest and my marks have always been brill!"

"You are going to school please don't act like a fool you can take
the quick test once again, you can work really hard and get fresh
air in the yard considering that your only ten!" "Now please get
in the bath and wash off that ink and hopefully it wont take much
time, for under this roof, you have so much proof that to me your
commiting a crime".

Im now walking to school not feeling to cool, I cant believe my mum
caught me out, but now were both upset this is something i'll regret
but im so glad that she diddnt shout.

Now my temperatures high and im starting to cry will my mam believe
this is real? But i have bumps on my arms and have hot sweaty palms,
what is this sore itching i feel?

I zoomed home and i told my mum and she said the doctor is needed
"your going "
but i begged and pleaded.

Im sitting in the waiting room and th doctor calls me in, he dosent look too
scary for he has a cheeky grin!

"It looks alot like a rash" he said "Im sure its an alergic one too, its safe to stay
from school for a week or maybe quite a few".

Im happy that im away from school but in bed im all alone, and now ive made it
10x worse because ive got assesments to compleate at home!

Hi, my name is Sophie Marron and im 11 years old. For my whole life me and friends and family have always knew i had a talent for writing lots of useful poems. i looked up your website and saw i could be in the win for £50, but thats not the only thing, i love taking part in comps and i love spending my time thinking of words that rhyme. i hope you enjoy my poems and i will be taking part in more of your comps anyway! I really enjoyed Sophie's poem and have to say - hands over ears, judges - that she's the best rhymer I've come across in a very long time. Excellent.

I Can't Go Back to School
by Katy Small

My finger has the measles
I’m afraid I have them too
My head is pounding round and round
Perhaps it’s got the sneezes….
So I can’t go back to school
My eyes (and me) are barking mad
You really really wouldn’t believe
The amount of lost things that I’ve had
My muscles have lost about twenty pounds
My brain has put on plenty heavy mounds
What if my homework rate accidentally slipped
About exactly it I stumbled and tripped
Every second my temperature climbs
But now my toes are at perfect ease
But my lungs still continue a powerful wheeze
So I really can’t go back to school.

Katie is 9 and has written a very funny, slightly nonsensical poem about being ill. In my mind, the poem's star line is My eyes (and me) are barking mad. Pure genius.

I Can See the Future
by Claudia Afranie

Mom I can see the future and I see I am going to be ill
"Is that right" says mom
Yes I am going to have a cold and not be able to go to school
"Is that right” says mom
Yes and unfortunately I will not be able to do the mock SATs test
"Is that right” say mom
Yes it is right and don't say is that right again I am getting irritated
"Ok" says mom

Mom I will also have to watch a lot of TV
'Ok" says mom
And have a lot of sweets
"Ok" says mom
And my favourite hobnobs with chocolate milk
"Ok" says mom
I think she really does believe me what a genius I am

The day I foresaw I would be ill comes and I am woken up by a ringing sound
"Time for school" says mum
But I saw the future I am ill today
"I saw it to and your fine" mom say
So I go and get ready and I feel kind of dizzy what’s wrong with me well it turns out I am ill

Claudia is 11 years old and has produced a complex poem about the battle of wits and wills between a mother and her daughter. Can the clairvoyant daughter convince her mother that she'll be too ill for school the following day? It's a funny idea and very beautifully executed.

I'm Ill
by Bethany Cassidy

Guess what I'm Ill I have to stay in bed
I have to miss the test it's not easy on my head
It is alright do not throw a fit
I am not really ill I am just faking about it
you see being ill is cool
you do not have to pretend that you are not a fool
just blame it on the illness it is not like it is gonna care
atishoo atishooo it is not it is not fair
this is 100% real atishooo
do not use the cold or the cold will use you

Bethany, who is 10 years old, has sent in this lovely poem entitled I'm Ill. I particularly enjoyed the thought provoking final line do not use the cold or the cold will use you.

Ill, Sick and Nearly Dead
by Dalia Kandil

I’m ill, sick and nearly dead,
An evil virus stuck in my head,
Spreading all around my limbs,
I feel so rubbish, I could stick my head in a bin.

I nearly dead, sick and ill,
Someone please get me some pills,
Make the pain go away,
I don’t want it now, so go away!

I’m ill, nearly dead and very sick,
Someone pass me a bucket, quick!
Phew, I didn’t throw up,
Uh oh, now I think I’m going to upchuck!

I’m not ill, sick and nearly dead,
A cure has come, so I’m not in bed,
But now I wish I was still puking there,
‘Cause at school, I’m in maths, in total despair!

Hi, my name is Dalia, I'm 11 years old (12 in October!) & I'm from London, England.
My poem is called: Ill, Sick and Nearly Dead & I hope you like it!
I loved Dalia's poem and particularly the use of the much neglected word upchuck. A very fine poem indeed!

Mummy! Mummy!
by Rebekah West

I woke up one morning,
I had a big spot,
My Mum came in,
I said I was hot.

She said, "You look pale,"
I'm sure that was true,
"Oh no! Mummy, Mummy,
do you think it's the flu?"

I felt a bit dizzy,
I felt a bit sick,
I called to my Mum,
"To the toilet quick!"

Rebekah West is 9 years old and lives in the Vale of Glamorgan, Wales. I really enjoyed Rebekah's poem and though it very funny and quite touching. There are times when all of us, however old, need our Mummy!

by Katie Bottomley

The nose
Two blows
Quiet snifflers
Roof lifters
Loud trumpeter
Making a rumpiter
Hankie honkers
Hankie bonkers
Sniff the snot
Missed a spot
Spurts a hose
The nose.

Katie is 9 years and 2 months old and lives in England. Katie's poem is very well rounded - mirrored opening and closing lines is a classic - and full of sparkling illusions and unusual rhymes, which makes it just the type of poem I adore. Well done!

The Peculiar Morning
by Shifra Power

I woke up shaking,
sick in the making,
why was I feeling this odd?

Could it be some lunch,
a cadbury's crunch,
or maybe some week old cod?

My nose is red,
my face bright green,
and my toes a mixture of blue!

Oh, shut up brother,
one way or another,
i'll try to be sick on you!

My dog is on me, hungry and grumbling, so that's what that noise was!
And i've noticed im wearing the wicked witch's make-up,
from my production last night, Wizard of Oz!

I have attached my poem to this email and I hope you enjoy it! I have been looking everywhere on the Internet for somewhere where I can share some of my poems with other people who love writing as much as i do and I finally found this fantastic website!
I hope you enjoy my poem and everyone elses!
Shifra is 11 years old, lives in England and is clearly a poetry star in the making.

Doctor Dog
by Zoe Levenson

Doctor ! Doctor ! My tails ill
I won't stop moving and it can't stay still !
"Is is any thing to do with that bone on the window sill ?"

Doctor ! Doctor ! I broke my paw
Look right there it's really sore!
"Is that what you were trying to do when you went over to the door!"

Doctor ! Doctor ! I am going to be sick
Please pass me a bucket quick!
"You REALLY shouldn't take the Mick
"I Know your not really sick
All your moaning and groaning and such of that sort
Just to avoid going out on a walk?"

Zoe, who is very nearly 11 (which sounds much grander than being 10 and 11 months) has sent us this glorious poem entitled Doctor Dog. As Timmy would be in a hurry to tell you, I'm much more cat-minded than dog-minded, but Zoe's poem has won me over, almost.

Swine Flu
by Ben Clarke

Its not funny when your nose is runny
Tissues by the score make it very sore
Coughing and spluttering, I hear my bro muttering
“Stick your head down the loo”. Its a swine, this flu!

Ben Clarke is 11 and lives in Gloucestershire in England. Ben's email told us his poem was Written for your competition but during a bout of hayfever and a chest infection. Not swine flu in reality!

A collage poem about being ill

This poem was submitted by Louie Robinson, aged 12, from The Isle of Dogs in London and is an intriguing entry which cleverly integrates images into the poem.

My Pet Bunny Is Quite Ill
by Joanna Liu

Lately my pet bunny
Has been looking a bit green.
It might be all the candy that
I fed him for Halloween.

Or maybe because the other day
I acted on a whim,
And put him in the kitchen sink
To see if he could swim.

Then again it could be that
He's been feeling quite run down
Ever since the neighbor's cat
Began wandering around.

So when I realized my pet bunny
Was feeling under the weather,
I, being such a good owner,
Gave him Tylenol so he could get better!

Hi! My name is Joanna, I'm twelve years old, and I live in the U.S. Attached is my poem and I hope you enjoy reading it. This was a good experience for me because I don't usually write funny poems. This is another fantastic poem although if you put Timmy in the kitchen sink to see if he could swim I don't think he would like it very much!

My Foot
by Brodie Kane

My foot, it has the sneezes,
My tummy has a cold,
My toes are turning green,
And I'm looking very old

My ear has got the mumps,
And I'm sad to say,
It wont be coming out of bed
until the end of May

My eyes have got the chicken pox,
They are turning red and spotty,
My nose has got the measles,
They are turning pink and dotty

My elbows got rubella
My knee has got the flu
And 'boy o fellow'
My foreheads turning blue

I am writing to send you my poem for the sick poets competion 2009. I am called Brodie kane and I am poet laureate for my school. I am in Yr 3 but I am moving up to Yr 4 after the summer holidays. Brodie lives in Cheshire and as school poet laureate has already been identified as a future poetic star.

My bottom is too Round!
by Tegan Williams

My bottom is too round
I cannot keep it off the ground
Whenever my friends ask me to play
My bottom gets in the way

I woke up this morning, loudly snoring
My posterior was still definitely inferior

So I put on my kit
And ran around a bit
But that did not help
So I let out a yelp

The doctor said: ‘Oh no!
To school you should not go’
Goodbye school now you know!

Tegan is aged 10 and lives in London. The email which accompanied the poem read: I hope you enjoyed reading my poem! I got inspiration from playing with a bouncy ball, and I thought that it might be a good excuse for getting out of school! I love poems and most of the teachers and helpers just like to read them over and over again and that is why I get extra marks on my poetry at school! And I certainly did enjoy reading Tegan's poem, even if the subject matter was a little close to home.

My Dad Has Got His Leg Up
by Harry Smith

My dad has got his leg up
he had to have an op
so now he has to limp
or else he'd have to hop

They gave him some crutches
but he isn't very good
he came to my school sports day
but in dads race ran like a bit of wood

They say he will get better
and i hope that soon he will
so i will write him a letter
to tell him to take his pill

I could do something better
like draw a picture or write a song
but a bit like this poem
it would probably all go wrong

Harry, who is aged 9 and lives in Kent, said in his email that 'I wrote the poem after seeing dad in hospital'. It's a great poem and so a wonderful example of self-deprecating humour. Let's hope Harry's Dad makes a speedy recovery, or perhaps has another accident, which could be the subject of a further poem.

I’m Ill!
by Ellen Ritchie

I’m afraid I’m very ill
So I shall miss school today
And eat jelly in bed
Cause it helps my sore head
And keeps all the germs away

I’m afraid I’m very ill
So I shall have to miss maths
Instead I’ll complain
About my tummy pain
Then I will have a hot bath

I’m afraid I’m very Ill
So I shall be forced to miss art
Well that’s quite a shame
Well it’s you that I blame
So you owe me a jam tart

A lovely poem by Ellen, who is 11 years old and lives Scotland. I'm sure that eating jelly in bed is a better for you than a visit from the doctor, so long as you're not a messy eater.

My Fingers Frozen
by Lucy Parker

My fingers frozen,
Oh deary me,
My fingers frozen,
Dum diddly dee.

Run it under the hot tap,
Gosh, my mum will throw a flap,
Spray it with de-icer,
I may aswell put it in the dicer.

Dad said there's nothing nicer,
Than a frozen finger for tea.

So I yelled, not mine dad, Gee!

My fingers frozen,
Oh deary me,
My fingers frozen,
Dum diddly dee!

Lucy is 11 years old and lives Staffordshire. She concludes her email I hope you enjoyed reading my poem, which Timmy and I most certainly did. It has an almost Winnie-the-Pooh quality with all the Dum diddly dees.

by Thern Foster

All at once my head did hurt,
And I was sick all down my shirt.
Ugh screamed the teacher
Fetch his mum,
Before the rest of us get an upset tum.

At home I sat for the rest of the day,
Being pampered and allowed to play.
Here is the doctor,
Said my mum,
And he stuck a needle up my bum.

Thern Foster is aged 11 and lives in the Republic of Ireland. An excellent poem and, finally, a villainous doctor as deus ex machina.

My Huntsman Spider
by Elizabeth Waldron

There's a spider in my eyeballs,
She's exploding every day.
It's a problem, not a poem,
But I'll write it anyway.

Her legs are long like Christmas trees,
Her eyes are short, are hiding,
Her body's like a snowflake.
Her time she must be biding,

Until she springs on bedspring wings,
And tiptoes on her fingers.
She crawls across my eyelid things
And in the dark she lingers.

I know she's just a shadow,
Just a shadow of the light
That falls upon my retina
When I close my eyes at night.

But my spider, still she lingers on
Quietly exploding
Like a program on the internet,
That's constantly downloading.

Elizabeth Waldron from Australia sent me this poem, which she wrote last year when she was aged 11. It's a really well crafted poem and the line Until she springs on bedspring wings is quite magical. I'm going to overlook the fact it's 20 lines, as she wrote it before the competition was announced.

Allergic To Sports
by Megan Stewart

I'm allergic to sports
It's such a rare disease,
I hope I can be cured because
I can't attend P.E.

Jumping and running makes my legs drop off,
Swimming and sailing gives me a cough,
Sports is a HUGE danger to me
So I better stick with the T.V.

I can't go to school
Doctors orders you see,
I have to sit down and relax
For the rest of eternity.

My dad say I'm lying
But what he does not see,
He lives with the sickest person in the world,
And that person is me!

Megan, who is aged 11, is a real poetry fanatic: I love writing poems, it is a fantasy of mine. I can put all my feelings down hoping it will rhyme. I would love to win this competition but it will be tuff because already you have got some absolutely fabulous poems. I have been writing poems since I learnt how to write and when I grow up I would love for my poems to become a big success. I loved Megan's poem and share her dislike of sports - unless, of course, it's only her poetic persona who is allergic to sports.

My Toe
by Tracey Huynh

I have a big toe
It apparently has swine flu
My best friend has it too
It aches and aches
Everyone thinks it's fake
But me and my friend say

No No No that's not fair
It is hurting more than a Loud flare!

I told my mum it's not about injections
That we're having at school
My toe is hurting
It is true!

A poem about swine flu which is both topical and very funny. The author, Tracey, is 9 years old and lives in London.

A Funny Illness Poem
by Poppy Williams

Yesterday i went to the doctors,
He said what is the matter with you
I don't know
Oh no oh dearie me
What what
your organs are about to pop.
i have the op
no you are about to pop
Pop pop oh pop goes the measle
No you are going to blow up
blow up i don't know a song called blow up i will just make one up
oh no don't write a song
hum i know bang bang i am going to blow up.
Do not sing it again
fine i will sing it again
don't or else
oh who cares do you care no so off we sing bang bang i am going to blow up pop.

A funny poem which has a wonderfully nonsensical quality - I love the line Pop pop oh pop goes the measle. The author, Poppy, is 12 and live in the UK. I wonder if poems reflect the names of their authors, as Poppy's poem is certainly is full of pops.

Turkey Pox
by Amy Foster

Oh my goodness,
How many more???
They're green and lumpy
They've made me all grumpy
Why did I eat so much of that turkey???
Now I look completely quirky
Take my advice
They're really not nice
They look like warts
They bring on snorts
As well as that they smell like socks
Why is it me that has turkey pox???

A very evocative poem about a really horrible sounding affliction. Amy Foster is aged 11, lives in England and, one must hope, is making a good recovery from her attack of Turkey Pox.

I'm Sorry to Say...
by Hadassah Shah and Amy Foster

Dear Mrs Bay,
I'm sorry to say, I can't attend school today.

I have a bad cough (Okay, just a tickle)
I'm constantly sneezing (I'm allergic to pickle)

I have chicken-pox right down to my socks
(which mum suspects are red painted spots)

I'm sure you won't mind
Because your so very kind.

In PE, I am sorry to say, I can't help you lay the mats
And its a shame (I can't take the blame) that I'm going to miss the SATS!!!

Wish everyone good luck
From Jillian Duck PS: I was joking, If you believed me you suck!!!

A joint effort this time by Amy Foster (who clearly has recovered from the Turkey Pox) and her co-poet Hadassah Shah. The poem has a wonderfully nonsensical feel, yet makes perfect sense - I think?? Please, someone, tell me who Jillian Duck is.

by Naomi Purvis

I think I’m really sick
I don’t know what to do
Oh I think its coming out
Better fun fast to the loo!

I look like a witch
‘Cause my face has gone all green
If a little boy walks past
he’ll think it’s a monster that he’s seen

My hand is over my mouth
Over my face is my book
Oh my belly’s really sore
Yuk I think I’m going to...

Naomi, who is 12 years old and lives in England, has really taken the 'sick' theme at its word.

By Zika Trajkovic

I have many allergies,
Doing work is one,
No homework, no tests,
But you can mark it done,
It’s not that I’m lazy,
And has nothing to do,
With the pages of homework,
That piled miles over 52,
I have many allergies,
But in school I have a lot,
I can only have fun,
That’s the only excuse I got,
If I tried to learn science,
Or how to read,
Before the book opened,
I would try to leave. 

Zika, who is 10, has written a poem about an allergy very common amongst children...

My Sick is All Runny...
By Shannon Birrell

My sick is all runny,
My tummy is going funny,
I think I'm going to be sick,
But I wasn't.

I'm hanging over the loo,
And I'm going to puke on you,
I think I'm going to be sick,
But I wasn't.

I'm am holding the sickie bowl,
And I'm ready for a roll,
I think I'm going to be sick,

Another poem that has taken the sick theme literally, but is full of wonderful will she, won't she anticipation. The poem is by Shannon Birrell, who's aged 8.

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Copyright © Funny Poems for Kids / Patrick Winstanley 2002-2018 All Rights Reserved.
Individual poems are copyright of the stated authors and used with permission