60 Animal Poems For Kids: Cute Poems About Pets For Children

All children love animals and bring a pure heart. We must nurture the kindness of children by teaching them how to love and protect animals.

Children are often very excited and passionate about watching animals in nature. From the worm is enjoying the delicious leaves to the sunbathing squirrel. They can also spend hours watching ants bring food to the nest, or try to talk to dogs and cats.

Do you know? A pet can be a child’s best friend, and a lovely family member. Happy moments with pets will help your child feel comfortable, and those moments will become beautiful memories throughout their lives.

Here, we have collected 50 funny poems about pets and animals for children, very suitable for you to read for your children. Hope you have beautiful moments with meaningful poems about animals and funny poems about pets for children bellow! All is the best!

1, Wolverines © Elaine D’Alessandro

Wandering ground hunters stocky and strong
Observant and aggressive in silent pursuit through
Layers of snow with crampon-like paws.
Voraciously sniffing before
Emitting a growling and bone crushing bite.
Rabbits and elk, foxes and moose find it
Impossible to avoid their powerful jaws
Nabbing and gnawing
Each creature’s neck
Satisfying the wolverine’s carnivorous ways.

2, Snail-Picking © Onyedikachi Chinedu

The weatherman reports rain
to a crew of snail-pickers through an old TV.
They stand on the elevated porch,
holding plastic buckets and torches,
preparing for the long walk.
Behind the houses, on the football field,
blades of grass will soon wet.
The snail-pickers know this.
They walk onward
through the field for snails,
witnessing the vanishing of human voices.
Absolute stillness abounds.
The owl and bats on the succulent stalks,
the rubbish and snails,
within a few meters of a dead mouse.
Now, at the center, they fade
into a singularity: one man and one woman
to a section, torching for the hard,
brown shells. The young beams
reveal the slimy trails.
One snail picked up.
It could take minutes
to find another. Even hours.
They search, reducing their voices.
Attempting to fool the boy in the field,
they retreat into the night, slowly, leaving
him with the task of searching.
The cloudy sky strengthens
the discordant dialects of the frogs
and crickets. A rustle in a thicket.
The sudden realization
he’s alone with nature’s tricks.
In almost harmony with the owl’s screech,
the stems swish again.

3, The Carolina Wren © Laura Donnelly

I noticed the mockingbirds first,
not for their call but the broad white bands,

like reverse mourning bands on gunmetal
gray, exposed during flight

then tucked into their chests. A thing
seen once, then everywhere—

the top of the gazebo, the little cracked statue,
along the barbed fence. Noticed because

I know first with my eyes, then followed
their several songs braiding the trees.

Only later, this other, same-same-again song,
a bird I could not see but heard

when I walked from the house to the studio,
studio to the house, its three notes

repeated like a child’s up and down
on a trampoline looping

the ground to the sky—
When I remember being a child like this

I think I wouldn’t mind living alone
on a mountain, stilled into the daily

which isn’t stillness at all but a whirring
gone deep. The composer shows how

the hands, palms down, thumb to thumb
and forefinger to mirrored finger, make

a shape like a cone, a honeybee hive, and then
how that cone moves across the piano—

notes in groups fluttering fast back-and-forth
and it sounds difficult but it isn’t

really, how the hand likes to hover each patch
of sound. Likes gesture. To hold. Listening

is like this. How it took me a week to hear
the ever-there wren. And the bees

are like this, intent on their nectar,
their waggle dance better than any GPS.

A threatened thing. A no-one-knows-why.
But the wrens’ invisible looping their loop—

And I, for a moment, pinned to the ground.
Pinned and spinning in the sound of it.

4, Playing with Bees © RK Fauth

So the world turned
its one good eye

to watch the bees
take most of metaphor
with them.

Swarms—
in all their airborne
pointillism—
shifted on the breeze

for the last time. Of course,

the absence of bees
left behind significant holes
in ecology. Less

obvious
were the indelible holes
in poems, which would come
later:

Our vast psychic habitat
shrunk. Nothing was

like nectar
for the gods

Nobody was warned by
a deep black dahlia, and nobody

grew like a weed.

Nobody felt spry as
a daisy, or blue
and princely
as a hyacinth; was lucid as
a moon flower. Nobody came home

and yelled honey! up the stairs,

And nothing in particular
by any other name would smell as sweet as—

Consider:
the verbal dearth
that is always a main ripple of extinction.

The lexicon of wilds goes on nixing its descriptions.
Slimming its index of references
for what is

super as a rhubarb, and juicy
as a peach,
or sunken as a
comb and ancient as an alder tree, or
conifer, or beech, what is royal
as jelly, dark as a wintering

hive, toxic as the jessamine vine
who weeps the way a willow does,
silently as wax
burned in the land of milk and

all the strong words in poems,
they were once

smeared on the mandible of a bee.

5, The Pasture © Robert Frost

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too.

6, Lamb © Richie Hofmann

I had a lamb I brought everywhere
who only had one eye.
At the train stations,
all the grown-ups would say, be mindful
of your things, little boy,
someone will steal right out of your pocket
or take the watch off your wrist.
My dad had a beautiful overcoat.
The lamb’s white fur got smudged.
My brother was a baby,
and in the restaurants,
the old waiters would pick him up
and kiss him again and again on the cheek
with their mustaches
and tell my parents
that they promised they would bring him back in a minute
but now they needed to show the chef.
I don’t remember when the eye became unglued
and who knows where it went.
On long train rides,
I remember falling asleep,
putting my finger in the hole where it used to be.
Once he had to go in an overhead bin,
and he was freezing when I kissed him again.

7, Breaking Free © Stuart Kestenbaum

I am pledging allegiance to the flag
in the basement classroom when
my crewcut friend appears at the door
with a message. He whispers to the teacher

who motions to me and I learn that
my dog has followed me to school.
What an occasion, that above all the other
scents in the world, all the other

high-topped sneakers, he has found me out
I learn that he has already made it through
the first grade, where he has
muddied a teacher’s dress with his dark paws.

I imagine his journey as he runs down
the long corridors that smell of chalk dust
and institutional cleanser, cantering
past the principal’s office, the holy of holies,

where the records are kept. I see him sniffing
at the blunt toed shoes of the army
of teachers who find him.
He wags his tail when he sees me, but I am

overcome with my notoriety. Why did you
follow me, why single me out? I get the dog
and put him out the front entrance.
Go home, I tell him, go on home, ignoring

his optimistic eyes, shutting
the great wooden doors
on that part of me that is
without a collar and wild.

8, The Tree Sparrows © Joseph O. Legaspi

We suffer through blinding equatorial heat,
refusing to unfold the suspended bamboo shade
nested by a pair of hardworking, cheerless sparrows.
We’ve watched them fly in-and-out of their double
entryways, dried grass, twigs clamped in their beaks.
They skip, nestle in their woodsy tunnel punctured
with light, we presume, not total darkness, their eggs
aglow like lunar orbs. What is a home? How easily
it can be destroyed: the untying of traditional ropes,
pull, the scroll-unraveling. For want of a sweltering
living room to be thrown into relief by shadow.

The sunning couple perch open-winged, tube lofty
as in Aristophanes’ city of birds, home made sturdy
by creature logic and faith that it will all remain afloat.

9, Psalm © George Oppen

Veritas sequitur …

In the small beauty of the forest
The wild deer bedding down—

That they are there!

Their eyes
Effortless, the soft lips
Nuzzle and the alien small teeth
Tear at the grass

The roots of it
Dangle from their mouths
Scattering earth in the strange woods.
They who are there.

Their paths
Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them
Hang in the distances
Of sun

The small nouns
Crying faith
In this in which the wild deer
Startle, and stare out.

10, Move © Alicia Ostriker

Whether it’s a turtle who drags herself
Slowly to the sandlot, where she digs
The sandy nest she was born to dig

And lay leathery eggs in, or whether it’s salmon
Rocketing upstream
Toward pools that call, Bring your eggs here

And nowhere else in the world, whether it is turtle-green
Ugliness and awkwardness, or the seething
Grace and gild of silky salmon, we

Are envious, our wishes speak out right here,
Thirsty for a destiny like theirs,
An absolute right choice

To end all choices. Is it memory,
We ask, is it a smell
They remember,

Or just what is it—some kind of blueprint
That makes them move, hot grain by grain,
Cold cascade above icy cascade,

Slipping through
Water’s fingers
A hundred miles

Inland from the easy, shiny sea?
And we also—in the company
Of our tribe

Or perhaps alone, like the turtle
On her wrinkled feet with the tapping nails—
We also are going to travel, we say let’s be

Oblivious to all, save
That we travel, and we say
When we reach the place we’ll know

We are in the right spot, somehow, like a breath
Entering a singer’s chest, that shapes itself
For the song that is to follow.

11, The Tyger © William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

12, My First Pet © Kevin T Pearson

My mommy said today
That I could get a pet one day.
I gave her a kiss
Then started making my list.

Maybe I could get a giraffe.
It would be so fun to give him a bath.
What about a rhinoceros? I thought.
I am sure that it must eat a lot.

I could get a monkey.
Together we could swing from tree to tree.
I know, I could get an armadillo.
She could sleep under my pillow.

How about a kangaroo?
But only if she has room for two.
I’m sure I don’t want a porcupine.
I would be saying “ouch” all the time.

It would be fun to have a horse.
He would have to live outside, of course.
Okay, maybe a hippopotamus.
It will probably eat as much as the rhinoceros.

An elephant would be fun as can be
If he doesn’t sit on me.
I could get along with a pig just fine,
Rolling in mud all the time.

I gave my mom my list.
She bent down and gave me a kiss,
Put her hand to her heart,
And said a fish would be a good start.

13, Our Dog’s Name is Roomba © Kenn Nesbitt

Our dog’s name is Roomba.
He’s such a great pup.
If food hits our carpet,
he vacuums it up.

He’s constantly sniffing
for food he can “clean.”
Our floors are the tidiest
you’ve ever seen.

There’s practically nothing
this puppy won’t eat.
He’ll munch on the tiniest
morsel of meat.

He’ll suck up spaghetti.
He’ll polish off peas.
He’ll chow down on berries
and cherries and cheese.

He’ll lick up linguine.
He’ll gobble up grapes.
He’ll pig out on pancakes
and waffles and crepes.

The floor in our kitchen
has never been neater.
We’re lucky our puppy
is such a good eater.

Our Roomba’s a marvelous
morsel remover.
He learned from our other dogs,
Dyson and Hoover.

14, Rathers © Mary Hunter Austin

I know very well what I’d rather be
If I didn’t always have to be me!
I’d rather be an owl,
A downy feathered owl,
A wink-ity, blink-ity, yellow-eyed owl
In a hole in a hollow tree.
I’d take my dinner in chipmunk town,
And wouldn’t I gobble the field mice down,
If I were a wink-ity, blink-ity owl,
And didn’t always have to be me!

I know very well what I’d like to do
If I didn’t have to do what I do!
I’d go and be a woodpecker,
A rap-ity, tap-ity, red-headed woodpecker
In the top of a tall old tree.
And I’d never take a look
At a lesson or a book,
And I’d scold like a pirate on the sea,
If I only had to do what I like to do,
And didn’t always have to be me!

Or else I’d be an antelope,
A pronghorned antelope,
With lots of other antelope
Skimming like a cloud on a wire-grass plian.
A bounding, bouncing antelope,
You’d never get me back to my desk again!

Or I might be a puma,
A singe-colored puma,
A slinking, sly-foot puma
As fierce as fierce could be!
And I’d wait by the waterholes where antelope drink
In the cool of the morning
And I do
not
think
That ever any antelope could get away from me.

But if I were a hunter,
A red Indian hunter –
I’d like to be a hunter, –
I’d have a bow made of juniper wood
From a lightning-blasted tree,
And I’d creep and I’d creep on that puma asleep
A flint tipped arrow,
An eagle feathered arrow,
For a puma kills calves and a puma kills sheep,
And he’d never eat any more antelope
If he once met up with me!

15, Dentist And The Crocodile © Roald Dahl

The crocodile, with cunning smile, sat in the dentist’s chair.
He said, “Right here and everywhere my teeth require repair.”
The dentist’s face was turning white. He quivered, quaked and shook.
He muttered, “I suppose I’m going to have to take a look.”
“I want you”, Crocodile declared, “to do the back ones first.
The molars at the very back are easily the worst.”
He opened wide his massive jaws. It was a fearsome sight—
At least three hundred pointed teeth, all sharp and shining white.
The dentist kept himself well clear. He stood two yards away.
He chose the longest probe he had to search out the decay.
“I said to do the back ones first!” the Crocodile called out.
“You’re much too far away, dear sir, to see what you’re about.
To do the back ones properly you’ve got to put your head
Deep down inside my great big mouth,” the grinning Crocky said.
The poor old dentist wrung his hands and, weeping in despair,
He cried, “No no! I see them all extremely well from here!”
Just then, in burst a lady, in her hands a golden chain.
She cried, “Oh Croc, you naughty boy, you’re playing tricks again!”
“Watch out!” the dentist shrieked and started climbing up the wall.
“He’s after me! He’s after you! He’s going to eat us all!”
“Don’t be a twit,” the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile.
“He’s harmless. He’s my little pet, my lovely crocodile.”

16, My Flat Cat © Kenn Nesbitt

I have a cat.
My cat is flat.
He sleeps beneath
the bathroom mat.

He slides around
upon the ground
without the slightest
striding sound.

He only eats
the flattest meats
and thin and wispy
kitty treats.

He once was fat
but now my cat
is totally,
completely flat.

He got so slim,
so flat and trim
the day my Great Dane
sat on him.

17, Yip-Yip-Woof! © Kristin Frederick

Tiny Chihuahua,
Humongous Great Dane.
The difference between them
Is really quite plain.
Feisty Chihuahua
Will yap-yap and yip.
If he doesn’t like you,
You may get a nip!
Gentle Great Dane
Has a powerful bite,
But never would nip you.
She’s much too polite.
Great Dane finds the carpet
A fine place to nap.
Chihuahua loves curling
Right up in your lap.
Their owners would have
Some cause for dismay
If each dog behaved
In the opposite way!

18, A Jelly-Fish © Marianne Moore

Visible, invisible,
A fluctuating charm,
An amber-colored amethyst
Inhabits it; your arm
Approaches, and
It opens and
It closes;
You have meant
To catch it,
And it shrivels;
You abandon
Your intent—
It opens, and it
Closes and you
Reach for it—
The blue
Surrounding it
Grows cloudy, and
It floats away
From you.

19, A Night With A Wolf © Bayard Taylor

Little one come to my knee!
Hark how the rain is pouring
Over the roof in the pitch dark night,
And the winds in the woods a-roaring.

Hush, my darling, and listen,
Then pay for the story with kisses;
Father was lost in the pitch-black night
In just such a storm as this is.

High on the lonely mountain
Where the wild men watched and waited;
Wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush,
And I on my path belated.

The rain and the night together
Came down, and the wind came after,
Bending the props of the pine tree roof
And snapping many a rafter.

I crept along in the darkness,
Stunned and bruised and blinded . . .
Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs,
And a sheltering rock behind it.

There, from the blowing and raining,
Crouching I sought to hide me;
Something rustled, two green eyes shone,
And a wolf lay down beside me.

Little one, be not frightened;
I and the wolf together,
Side by side through the long, long night,
Hid from the awful weather.

His wet fur pressed against me;
Each of us warmed the other;
Each of us felt in the stormy dark
That beast and man were brother.

And when the falling forest
No longer crashed in warning,
Each of us went from our hiding place
Forth in the wild wet morning.

Darling, kiss me in payment . . .
Hark! how the wind is roaring!
Father’s house is a better place
When the stormy rain is pouring.

20, Our Imperfect Dog © Cynthia C. Naspinski

We love our dog with all our hearts,
But not so much her stinky farts.
Her doggy breath is less than fresh,
Yet we hug her nonetheless.

From barking she will not restrain.
The house and yard are her domain.
Park on the street or walk on past,
And you will likely cop a blast.

Meter readers, couriers,
Serve to make her furious.
Possums, lizards, neighbour’s cat,
Will not be shown the welcome mat.

In the name of crime prevention,
Airspace gets the same attention.
We feel safe, it must be said,
From birds that dare fly overhead.

She wages war with the lawn mower,
Outdoor sweeper and leaf blower.
And switching on the vacuum cleaner
Won’t bring out her best demeanour.

This causes some embarrassment,
This doggy form of harassment,
But she does provide protection,
And for that we feel affection.

Once introductions make the rounds,
Her friendliness, it knows no bounds.
Though not all guests are fully rapt
With thirty kilos on their lap.

Should you leave your nice warm chair,
On your return you’ll find her there.
And when she’s urged to please vacate,
She’ll turn into a limp, dead weight.

To baths she has a strong aversion,
Desperate to avoid immersion.
Yet she’ll display her dive technique
In any muddy pond or creek!

We give her scratches, make her smile.
Give an inch, she’ll take a mile.
Stop and she’ll demand still more,
Prodding you with paw and claw.

“She’s got character!” we all say.
At times it’s just a nicer way
Of saying she’s our problem child,
Kinda crazy, kinda wild.

For all her faults we love her dearly
And in turn she loves us clearly.
She’s our funny, gorgeous girl.
We wouldn’t trade for all the world.

21, The Great Black Crow © Philip James Bailey

The crow – the crow! the great black crow!
He cares not to meet us wherever we go;
He cares not for man, beast, friend, nor foe,
For nothing will eat him he well doth know.
Know – know! you great black crow!
It’s a comfort to feel like a great black crow!

The crow – the crow! the great black crow!
He loves the fat meadow – his taste is low;
He loves the fat worms,
and he dines in a row With fifty fine cousins all black as a sloe.
Sloe – sloe! you great black crow!
But it’s jolly to fare like a great black crow!

The crow – the crow! the great black crow!
He never gets drunk on the rain or snow;
He never gets drunk, but he never says no!
If you press him to tipple ever so.
So – so! you great black crow!
It’s an honour to soak like a great black crow!

The crow – the crow! the great black crow!
He lives for a hundred year and mo’;
He lives till he dies, and he dies as slow
As the morning mists down the hill that go.
Go – go! you great black crow!
But it’s fine to live and die like a great black crow!.

22, Pet Porta Potty © Kathy J Parenteau

I took a walk in the city today
to try to pass the time away.
Saw lots of people walking too.
Stepped right in a pile of doggy doo.
I thought for a moment just what could be done
to clean up the streets of doggie dung.
Maybe I’ll invent something really super,
even finer than a pooper scooper.
A port a potty for our four legged friends
on every street corner where every road bends.
Then I’ll become famous for this awesome invention.
At the monthly town meetings my name will be mentioned.
They’ll throw a big party and dance in the streets
because never again will there be poop on our feet!

23, The Parakeets © Alberto Blanco

They talk all day
and when it starts to get dark
they lower their voices
to converse with their own shadows
and with the silence.

They are like everybody
—the parakeets—
all day chatter,
and at night bad dreams.

With their gold rings
on their clever faces,
brilliant feathers
and the heart restless
with speech…

They are like everybody,
—the parakeets—
the ones that talk best
have separate cages.

24, Always Love Your Pet, No Matter How Old They Get © Lesley M. Patterson

Pets are people, too, just like me and you.
They need food in their tummies and lots of beefy yummies.

They are little, but their hearts are BIG.
They like to go outside, get fresh air, and dig.

From big to small, they give their all,
And you can play with them with a toy or with a ball.

To the special bond between human and pet,
always by your side, forever, I’ll bet.

Your faithful pet depends on you
and all the special things for them that you do.

Pets help teach us nature’s true compassion.
They do not withhold love, nor with it do they ration.

And with our pets, I have no doubt,
that we are lucky not to have to live without.

A furry friend that’s always happy to see you,
from life’s ups and downs and all that people do.

It’s quite a sight for sore eyes to behold,
because that bond is as special as gold.

Always show them love and good measure,
and reap each day a true friend to treasure.

Children, remember to be good to your pet
Be loving to them, no matter how old they get.

Never abandon them or leave them out in the cold or heat,
and you’ll have a pet that’s super neat!

Always treat them with kindness and love,
for they are truly a gift from above!

Be understanding and patient with them, because they will be for you.
And never, ever forget this, my friend, for pets are people, too.

25, My Cat Knows Karate © Kenn Nesbitt

My cat knows karate.
My frog knows kung fu.
My poodle knows judo.
My turtle does too.

They all became black belts
by watching TV;
some Chuck Norris movies,
and films with Bruce Lee.

They liked learning lessons
from Jean-Claude Van Damme,
and acting like action-film star
Jackie Chan.

They practiced their punches,
their blocks, and their kicks
until they were masters
of martial arts tricks.

You’d think they’d be good now
at guarding our house,
but, yesterday morning,
they ran from my mouse.

My mouse is a crack-up.
I laughed at his prank.
Do you think it’s weird that
my mouse drives a tank?

26, A View Of A Cat © Stephanie

I
sleep on
your bed, making
it my own, and
and when you are
away, I’m at home
all alone. I walk
around the food
bowl, sniffing out
what’s there, and if
there’s nothing good, I
I look at you and stare. I
curl up near the fire place
warming up my paws, I
pounce upon the scratch
post, sharpening my claws.
I see a mouse in front
staring straight at me, I
run and try to catch it
but it runs away from
thee. You see I am so
cute, so gorgeous with my
fur, when
you
stroke
my
head
I
close my
eyes
and purr.

27, My Dog Likes to Dig © Kenn Nesbitt

My dog likes to dig, making holes in our lawn.
He digs every morning beginning at dawn.
He digs like a maniac all afternoon,
and even at night by the light of the moon.

I wish he would stop but he’s out of control,
and works up a sweat digging hole after hole.
He’s fevered and frenzied. He’s hot as can be.
His temperature’s rising degree by degree.

His workout from digging is clearly extreme.
He’s sizzling. He’s scorching. He’s starting to steam.
I wish I had gotten a fish or a frog.
Instead I just have this hot diggity dog.

28, The Daily Routine Of My Cat © M. Tarun Prasad

Starts off in the morning, wakes up at six,
Grooms itself using its tongue and licks.
I give it breakfast with a friendly pat.
That’s the daily morning of my cat.

Returns for lunch at one o’ clock.
Eats milk rice and then goes for a walk.
Sometimes even hunts and catches a rat.
That’s the daily afternoon of my cat.

Naps after lunch outside my door.
Sleeps so deeply, perhaps even snores.
Doesn’t like the ground; it prefers a mat.
That’s the daily evening of my cat.

Wakes up refreshed and comes for dinner.
Does it eat too much? Shouldn’t it be thinner?
Eats and sleeps – hope it doesn’t get fat.
That’s the daily night of my cat.

29, The Little Turtle © Vachel Lindsay

There was a little turtle.
He lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle.
He climbed on the rocks.

He snapped at a mosquito.
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow.
And he snapped at me.

He caught the mosquito.
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow.
But he didn’t catch me.

30, My Name Is Pearl © Becky Robbins

Said the bunny to the squirrel,
Are you a boy or a girl?
The squirrel said to the bunny, I am a girl.
Nice to meet you, my name is Pearl.

Pearl said to the bunny,
What is your name?
I am also a girl, and our name is the same.
Do you want to be friends?
Indeed I do!
I would love to be friends with you.

We have the same name, and yet that is funny.
We have the same name, and I’m not a bunny.
Our name is Pearl, and we are both a girl.
But only one of us is a squirrel.

31, The Sloth © Theodore Roethke

In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard-

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
He’ll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently by his Toes,
And you just know he knows he knows.

32, Dino, Dino, Who Will It Be? © Allison M. Kupiec

Dino, Dino, who will it be?

T-Rex, T-Rex, your roar ferocious and loud,
Standing on its hind legs, tall and proud.

Stegosaurus, Stegosaurus, your back lined with spikes,
Move away now, before he starts to strike!

Brontosaurs, Brontosaurs, your neck lean and long,
Reaching for the branches, elegant and strong.

Pterodactyl, Pterodactyl, soaring through the sky,
Hopefully, YOU won’t become what catches his eye!

Triceratops, Triceratops, your horns in three,
I hope he’s not the last thing you’ll see!

Raptor, Raptor, your body small and fast,
Hurry, hurry, don’t be last!

Dino, Dino, who will it be?
All of the dinosaurs, so interesting to me!

33, Three Little Piggies © Paige

I have three piggies,
Who live in the shed
They sleep in their food bowl
And eat in their bed

They drink lots of water
Which makes them go wee
This usually happens
While they are sitting on my knee!!!

34, Pets In The North Pole © Peyton

Hear Ye, Hear Ye there is much to do,
But the reindeer up north have caught the flu!

The presents are wrapped, the sleigh is all set,
So instead of reindeer, we’re using your pets.

Just show them this note on Christmas Eve,
So when the time comes, they’ll be ready to leave.

We’ll take dogs, we’ll take snakes, we’ll take hamsters and cats.
We’ll take frogs, we’ll take lizards, we’ll even take bats!

We’ll pretty much take whatever you’ve got.
For Santa’s sleigh, we’ll need a lot.

Your pet should leave when you’re asleep,
So don’t make a sound or a peep.

When your pet comes to fly the sleigh,
I’ll make them fly, I’ll show them the way.

We’ll soar through the night up high in the sky.
Looking down at the houses as we fly on by.

Oh, and thank you for helping Santa Claus.
From your old pal, Santa Paws.

35, Fred’s Wearing My Slippers © Kathy J Parenteau

I woke with a particular feeling
I was floating on top of the ceiling,
A little surprised
when I opened my eyes
at the sight my room was revealing.

I saw thing I’d never seen
I knew this must be a dream
There on my bed
was my dog Fred
watching the TV screen.

He was munching on chips and a coke
I thought this must be a joke
as he took a big slurp
he let out a burp
and I felt a big lump in my throat.

He was wearing my slippers and pj’s
closed all the windows and shut all the shades
It was clear to see
he thought he was me
as I stared at him shocked and amazed.

My mom brought him breakfast in bed
then kissed him on top of his head
fried eggs and ham
with strawberry jam
that should have been me instead!

Then I woke up trembling with fear
while Fred was licking my ear
I threw off the sheets
and looked at my feet
then thought to myself oh dear!

Fred scratched at the door to go pee
then turned and grinned at me
when I looked at his paws
The sight that I saw
was more than I bargained to see.

There before my eyes
wearing my slippers with pride
Fred’s tail was wagging
just like he was bragging
and off he went outside!

36, My Farm Animals © Linda Harris

On a sunny day, I sat on my porch swing
And watched a cool fresh summer rain
Everything then seem to come so alive
Birds flew to birdbaths to take a dive
My horse started galloping with glee
Putting on a show to entertain me
The donkey, he was hee-hawing so loud
Trying to get the attention of a crowd
The cows and goats stepped up to see
What all the commotion seemed to be
Chicken were making clucking sounds
Even little bunnies were looking around
Simon, the cat, awoke, puzzled over this
Fell back to sleep for his daily rest
My farm animals so joyful and free
Well, no one to see, but only me!

37, Best Birthday Ever! © Zorian Alexis

“Amazing!” was all I could say
Because I finally got my puppy today.
Chocolate brown with soulful eyes,
Definitely the perfect birthday surprise.
Every year I had asked for one.
Finally my mom hit a home run.
Getting me this perfect gift
Has given me such a joyful lift.
I will forever cherish my little boy
Just like I did my favorite stuffed toy.
Keeping him oh so near to me,
Loving him oh so tenderly,
Making him a promise that I will never break:
Nothing will harm him while I’m awake.
Our bond has already begun to grow,
Pure love that all pet owners know.
Quietly he is sleeping in my arms,
Rendering me helpless to all of his charms.
Staring at my little bundle of joy,
Thinking of the perfect name for my boy.
Undecided, I’ve come up with a few
Various possibilities what should I do.
Winchester or perhaps Chester for short.
Xander or maybe a bold name like Cort.
You deserve the perfect name.
Zorian means happy, and I hope you are the same.

38, The Cheetah © Gracie Robertson

The faster the cheetah flies,
The faster his poor prey dies.
The hungrier the cheetah gets,
The longer his prey frets.
He happens to be real smart,
He always plays a part,
In keeping the population down,
He sometimes eats something brown.
He sometimes does not catch his food,
’cause his prey is really rude.
The lions and leopards growl,
Show that they’re on the prowl,
They hunt for anything that moves,
Including the cheetahs brood.
The cheetah now has no young,
to carry life to old and young.

39, Woods At Night © Annette Bigger

Wild geese fly with the moon on their wings,
And a nightingale sits on a branch as it sings.
All is peaceful in the still of night,
and the moon is shining very bright.

There’s only a rustle of a breeze in the trees,
And to night for sure there will be a freeze.
For the air is crisp, so crisp it will snap,
At the slightest sound, rustle or rap.

An owl skims slowly o’er the treetops.
It slowly circles ’round a tree and stops.
It sits and surveys the forest floor,
Captivated by mystery and woodsy lore.

For at night in the forest there’s gamey in the air,
And the wild fox now creeps out of its lair.
It yaps and the stillness is split with a knife,
Yet all else continues with no conflict or strife.

40, It’s SNOT Funny © Paul L. Kennedy

It’s “snot” funny being an elephant when you need to blow your nose.
My trunk is long, and I have no hands as I’m sure the whole world knows.

And where would I keep my tissues, as pockets I have none,
so having a runny nose for me is really not much fun.

Another major drawback is because my trunk is so long,
it has to be blown so very hard, and I’m really not that strong.

That’s all fine when you’re an adult, and fully grown up too,
but not if you’re just a little calf like me; then it’s very hard to do.

Mother Nature is a wondrous thing, but in the case of me,
she hasn’t done me any favors, of that I’m sure you see.

The answer might just be, if only my trunk was much shorter,
but there again how would I be able to suck up any water?

This, my friends, is an evolutionary problem that I cannot see going away.
My Woolly Mammoth ancestors must have suffered in the exact same way.

But I suppose there’s no sense in complaining, if I did to whom would it be?
As our trunks have been part of being an elephant for millions of years of history

So next time you see an elephant, just remember these words that you’ve read,
and think yourself lucky that you haven’t got such a thing permanently attached to your head.

41, No More Pets! © Kathy J Parenteau

The dogs are barking at the door,
but we can’t let them in ’cause they
pooped on the floor.
It wasn’t your average pile of poo.
It was runny and wet and looked like beef stew.
I tried to clean it with a paper towel
but started to gag ’cause the smell was so fowl!
I thought to myself just how can this be,
cleaning up poopy is way worse than pee!
So I made a vow no more pets
’cause this is a mess I won’t soon forget!

42, What Kind Of Pet Do You Think I Should Get? © Jennifer Caldwell

What kind of pet do you think I should get?
A lion, a tiger, or maybe an egret?

My parents said I am responsible and can have whatever I wish.
A hippopotamus, a zebra, or maybe a fish?

What about a giraffe that I can feed from my upstairs bed?
Or would I have to climb up on the roof when it needs fed?

Maybe a lion who is a king and I can be the prince?
Do you think my parents I would have to convince?

There are monkeys and gorillas and snakes of all types!
But I think a cobra or boa constrictor would cause my mom to gripe!

Maybe an elephant, but they have such big poop!
A dump truck is what you would need if you had to poop scoop!

What about a camel with one or two humps?
I think if I rode it lot it would start to hurt my rump!

Or a polar bear like I saw at the zoo?
Does that mean I would have to live in an igloo?

I just can’t decide what I should choose?
Do you think an alligator my parents would refuse?

What about a shark that could live in my pool?
But who would feed it and pet it while I am away at school?

Maybe a grizzly bear; half the year they go to sleep.
Never mind, it might attack my neighbor’s herd of sheep!

My little sister said, “Why don’t you get a skunk?”
I told her I think that’s the worst idea anyone’s ever thunk!

It seems like the perfect animal is really hard to pick!
Maybe the best one would be a little baby chick?

I must think about this for just a little while more.
It’s too hard to just pick one; will my parents let me choose four?

My mom said she was thinking more like a cat or a dog!
Or maybe it could be a gerbil or a frog.

Let’s go to the animal shelter and see what needs a good home.
As for all the other animals, let them be wild and free and let them roam.

We went to the shelter and picked out two!
A cat named Pinky and a dog named Blue.

Both had been abandoned and left to die.
It broke my heart and made me cry!

So if your parents ever let you get a pet,
Head to a shelter and save some lives and have no regret!

43, Life On The Farm © Debra L. Brown

Spring comes early,
when you live on a farm.
There’s new born life,
and sounds in the barn.

Silas, the rooster,
was clucking and crowing.
“Come! Come! See,”
“I have something worth showing.”

The hens were gossiping,
and clucking a song.
Running to see,
whatever was wrong?

The horses were alerted,
the sheep were too.
The cows in the fields,
you can hear their “M-O-O-O-S”.

Now that the animals,
have all gathered round.
“Tell us, Mr. Silas,”
“whatever have you found?”

Before this charming old Rooster,
could make a sound.
You heard the cries in the corner,
Oh! were they loud!

Up popped a head,
as cute as can be.
Oh! No, I think that,
maybe there’s three.

It seems that the farmer’s Collie,
by the name of Miss Kate.
She had her puppies in the barn,
last night around eight.

“Oh! Miss Kate! your puppies,
are as precious as can be”.
“What ever will you name them,
your litter of three”.

“Thank you! Very kindly”,
“Please! meet my pack of three”.
“Willa, Grace and little Elliot Kate”,
“I’m as proud as can be of my little family”.

The animals left happy,
and wished them all well.
Except for Mr. Silas,
he has a new story to tell.

Yes, spring comes early,
when you live on a farm.
There’s new born life.
and sounds coming from the barn.

44, A Thought For Food © Brian A. Bendall

Most living things are around
Wherever living things are found.
On land or sea, that swim beneath,
Most of them have got their teeth.

Humans need their teeth for treats,
‘Cause, you and I, we love our sweets.
We chew our candy, gum, and chips,
Our chocolate bars and licorice whips.

But other beasts have different treats,
Like veggies or assorted meats.
They eat these foods to stay alive.
They know these help them to survive.

Herbivores and carnivores;
The two main groups this tale explores.
Each group is different, there’s no doubt.
Put them together? … Oops! … Look out!!

Herbivores all love their greens.
Their teeth are made for just that means.
They chew their grass, their hay and oats;
The horses, cows, and Billy goats.

Hamsters, rabbits, sheep, and moles,
Veggie munchies are their goals.
Giraffes and hippos, llamas, too,
Salads are their favorite chew.

But looking at the other side,
Carnivores want meat supplied.
They like their steak but extra rare.
No spice, no sauce, no savoir faire.

Lions, wolves, and crocodiles,
Hyenas with their laughs and smiles,
Foxes, sharks, tyrannosaurs
All are known as carnivores.

They watch the ones that eat their plants,
Bide their time and wait their chance.
They’re not cruel or hunt for fun;
They just pursue … ’til dinner’s done.

All these beasts might be amazed
At what us humans like to graze.
We will eat all kinds of things,
From brussels sprouts to chicken wings.

A juicy steak or salad plate,
Buffets to us are super great!
Pork chops, pears, or carrot sticks
Is how some people get their fix.

Are human beings carnivores
Or misdirected herbivores?
The other beasts don’t really care,
As long as they’re not in our fare!

Those beasts have menus on their mind
That nature’s restaurant has designed.
(And mouse or pig or alligator
Never have to tip the waiter.)

For all the stuff we humans eat,
The vegetables, meats, and sweets,
There’s one thing that is clear to me.
We love our food variety.

As time goes by we’ll choose the foods
That fit each other’s different moods.
For now, at least, you need to grow
With good foods that your mother knows.

So, eat the foods mom makes for you:
The roasts, the fish, the chicken stew.
With all the great meals that you see,
Eat your peas and broccoli!

45, String And Ribbon © Reilly Gandell

Thump. thump. thump.
Her tail gently lifts up, and then falls back to earth.
She lies, curled in a ball by the window.
The sun shines down on her lustrous black coat.
Her eyes are closed, letting herself to be separate from the outside world.
I reach out and stroke her gleaming fur.
Her body tenses, and then relaxes to my touch.
I look at her and realize how much I love her.
I think back to when she was only just a kitten.
How she would run around and play with string and ribbon.
And how even now, she has never completely been able to meow.
Always a cheery squeak that melts your heart.
She opens her green slits of eyes and peers into my own.
Then she lays back her head and begins her journey back to dreamland.

46, He And I – A Wolf And A Girl © Jessica Franson

The lovely cool breeze blows on me
As we run, he and I
Over meadow, hill, and tree
The scents of flowers die

The water runs over tried, beaten feet
With the many friends still to meet
Running with heart beats steady
While everything around is a melody

Colors fade, water rushes by
Solid ground under our feet
We run and birds take the sky
With Wolf friends still to meet

47, Dinosaurs © Aabir Basu

Roar goes the T-Rex
Trampling creatures in his path.
You’d better look out above
‘Cause he moves fast.

Three horn – two made of bones
One with just ligament.
The three-horned Triceratops
Whose frill can’t be bent.

The quick Velociraptor
Whose speed can’t be beat.
He may be small, but he’s fast,
And he also eats meat.

The armoured Stegosaurus
With a spiked tail.
With both spikes and armour,
In a battle he wouldn’t fail.

It’s a hadrosaur, which comes with a crest
That is used to make a sound to warn the rest.
I’m talking about the Parasaurolophus,
Whose features can dazzle all of us.

The Pterodactyls are pterosaurs
That means prehistoric reptiles of the sky.
They had wings long, big and wide,
Which helped them fly.

The Plesiosaurus can swim
(It’s not a special dinosaur)
It’s a sea reptile, which dinosaurs aren’t,
And it’s a carnivore.

This is the Pachycephalosaurus
With a big dome head
They’ll fight for leadership
Even if their opponent’s dead.

The huge Ankylosaurus,
Which has spikes all around
And a big club tail,
Which by the way, doesn’t trail on the ground.

The gigantic Titanosaurus,
Who has a very long neck.
If it lived right now,
The buildings would be a wreck.

The bird-like Chirostenotes
Which had feathers
To keep them warm
In the cold weather.

The huge Dilophosaurus
Has an amazing double crest.
Among all the dinosaurs that have them,
It is probably the best!

48, The Caterpillar © Robert Graves

Under this loop of honeysuckle,
A creeping, coloured caterpillar,
I gnaw the fresh green hawthorn spray,
I nibble it leaf by leaf away.

Down beneath grow dandelions,
Daisies, old-man’s-looking-glasses;
Rooks flap croaking across the lane.
I eat and swallow and eat again.

Here come raindrops helter-skelter;
I munch and nibble unregarding:
Hawthorn leaves are juicy and firm.
I’ll mind my business: I’m a good worm.

When I’m old, tired, melancholy,
I’ll build a leaf-green mausoleum
Close by, here on this lovely spray,
And die and dream the ages away.

Some say worms win resurrection,
With white wings beating flitter-flutter,
But wings or a sound sleep, why should I care?
Either way I’ll miss my share.

Under this loop of honeysuckle,
A hungry, hairy caterpillar,
I crawl on my high and swinging seat,
And eat, eat, eat—as one ought to eat.

49, Blowing All The Way Home © Marie Tully

Spiders’ legs arrive from mars
Sitting in liquid jars
Bulging eyes mixed with black eyed peas
Surrounded in green squid cheese
Silver fish backed in a pie
Oh, what a beautiful life have I
Bloated blood clots slimley slip
Past your tonsils way too quick
Octopus ink I love to drink
Mixed with ice-cubed eyeballs
Clackety clink
Red ants, slugs, brains and tails
Slightly grilled moths and snails
Waiter! Waiter! I must protest
My maggoty worms were not served in a nest
With belly full my leave I take
Farting and belching make no mistake

50, The Fish © Elizabeth Bishop

I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
—the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly—
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
—It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
—if you could call it a lip—
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels—until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

51. My Best Friend © Abby Jenkins

Black and white
Thick and furry
Fast as the wind
Always in a hurry
Couple of spots
Rub my ears
Always comes when his name he hears
Loves his ball; it’s his favorite thing
What’s most fun for him? Everything!
Great big tongue that licks my face
Has a crate, his very own space
Big brown eyes like moon pies
He’s my friend till the very end!

52, Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight © Jane Hirshfield

One ran,
her nose to the ground,
a rusty shadow
neither hunting nor playing.

One stood; sat; lay down; stood again.

One never moved,
except to turn her head a little as we walked.

Finally we drew too close,
and they vanished.
The woods took them back as if they had never been.

I wish I had thought to put my face to the grass.

But we kept walking,
speaking as strangers do when becoming friends.

There is more and more I tell no one,
strangers nor loves.
This slips into the heart
without hurry, as if it had never been.

And yet, among the trees, something has changed.

Something looks back from the trees,
and knows me for who I am.

53. A Worm In My Pocket © Jodee Samano

One rainy day on my way home from school,
I found a big worm and thought it was cool.

I picked up the worm with my bare hand,
held it up high, thinking how grand!

The worm was so cute and wiggled a lot.
I put him in my pocket to show Mom what I’d caught.

What will she say when I show her my find?
Will she let me keep it? I hope she won’t mind.

Mom was in the kitchen when I showed her what I’d found.
She screamed, “No, way! Put it back in the ground!”

Now I’m so angry; she always says, “No.”
If she won’t let me keep it, then I will just go!

So me and my worm packed a sandwich or two,
ran out the door, and down the street we both flew.

We walked to the park and sat on a bench.
I pulled out my worm and noticed a stench.

He looked kind of floppy but wiggled a bit.
I thought, “Oh my Gosh, my worm is not fit!”

I laid him in the dirt and let him go free.
I guess that my pocket was not the best place to be.

54, Mary’s Lamb © Sarah Josepha Hale

Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow,
And every where that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go;
He followed her to school one day—
That was against the rule,
It made the children laugh and play,
To see a lamb at school.

And so the Teacher turned him out,
But still he lingered near,
And waited patiently about,
Till Mary did appear;
And then he ran to her, and laid
His head upon her arm,
As if he said—”I’m not afraid—
You’ll keep me from all harm.”

“What makes the lamb love Mary so?”
The eager children cry—
“O, Mary loves the lamb, you know,”
The Teacher did reply;—
“And you each gentle animal
In confidence may bind,
And make them follow at your call,
If you are always kind.”

55, Puppy And I © Alan Alexander Milne

I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
‘Where are you going to, Man?’ I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
‘Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?’ ‘No, not I.’

I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
‘Where are you going to, Horse, today?’
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
‘Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?’ ‘No, not I.’

I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
‘Where are you going to, Woman, so early?’
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
‘Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?’ ‘No, not I.’

I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
‘Where are you going in your brown fur coats?’
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
‘Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?’ ‘No, not I.’

I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
‘Where are you going this nice fine day?’
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
‘Up to the hills to roll and play.’
‘I’ll come with you, Puppy,’ said I.

56, Kindness to Animals © Joseph Ashby-Sterry

Speak gently to the herring and kindly to the calf,
Be blithesome with the bunny, at barnacles don’t laugh!
Give nuts unto the monkey, and buns unto the bear,
Ne’er hint at currant jelly if you chance to see a hare!
Oh, little girls, pray hide your combs when tortoises draw nigh,
And never in the hearing of a pigeon whisper Pie!
But give the stranded jelly-fish a shove into the sea,—
Be always kind to animals wherever you may be!

Oh, make not game of sparrows, nor faces at the ram,
And ne’er allude to mint sauce when calling on a lamb.
Don’t beard the thoughtful oyster, don’t dare the cod to crimp,
Don’t cheat the pike, or ever try to pot the playful shrimp.
Tread lightly on the turning worm, don’t bruise the butterfly,
Don’t ridicule the wry-neck, nor sneer at salmon-fry;
Oh, ne’er delight to make dogs fight, nor bantams disagree,—
Be always kind to animals wherever you may be!

Be lenient with lobsters, and ever kind to crabs,
And be not disrespectful to cuttle-fish or dabs;
Chase not the Cochin-China, chaff not the ox obese,
And babble not of feather-beds in company with geese.
Be tender with the tadpole, and let the limpet thrive,
Be merciful to mussels, don’t skin your eels alive;
When talking to a turtle don’t mention calipee—
Be always kind to animals wherever you may be.

57. Glow Worm © Taylor Russell

Oh, I wish I were a glow worm,
for a glow worm’s never glum,
’cause how can you be grumpy
when the sun shines out your bum!

58, The Frog © Hilaire Belloc

Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As ‘Slimy skin,’ or ‘Polly-wog,’
Or likewise ‘Ugly James,’
Or ‘Gape-a-grin,’ or ‘Toad-gone-wrong,’
Or ‘Billy Bandy-knees’:
The Frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.
No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).

59, How Doth The Little Crocodile © Lewis Carroll

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!

60, Rabbits © Shannon W.

Nobody knows the rabbit’s nose,
the way it twitches,
the way it goes.

Nobody knows the rabbit’s ears,
the way it listens,
the way it hears.

Nobody knows the rabbit’s toes,
the way they hop the highs,
the way they bounce the lows.

I know the rabbit’s eyes,
the way they look,
the way they despise.

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