Showing posts with label Michael Rosen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Rosen. Show all posts

Friday, May 8, 2026

Chocolate Cake by Michael Rosen


Michael Rosen

Chocolate Cake

by Michael Rosen


I love chocolate cake.
And when I was a boy
I loved it even more.

Sometimes we used to have it for tea
and Mum used to say,
'If there's any left over
you can have it to take to school
tomorrow to have at playtime.'
And the next day I would take it to school
wrapped up in tin foil
open it up at playtime
and sit in the corner of the playground
eating it,
you know how the icing on top
is all shiny and it cracks as you
bite into it,
and there's that other kind of icing in
the middle
and it sticks to your hands and you
can lick your fingers
and lick your lips
oh it's lovely.
yeah.

Anyway,
once we had this chocolate cake for tea
and later I went to bed
but while I was in bed
I found myself waking up
licking my lips
and smiling.
I woke up proper.
'The chocolate cake.'
It was the first thing
1 thought of.

I could almost see it
so I thought,
what if I go downstairs
and have a little nibble, yeah?

It was all dark
everyone was in bed
so it must have been really late
but I got out of bed,
crept out of the door

there's always a creaky floorboard, isn't there?

Past Mum and Dad's room,
careful not to tread on bits of broken toys
or bits of Lego
you know what it's like treading on Lego
with your bare feet,

yowwww
shhhhhhh

downstairs
into the kitchen
open the cupboard
and there it is
all shining.

So I take it out of the cupboard
put it on the table
and I see that
there's a few crumbs lying about on the plate,
so I lick my finger and run my finger all over the crumbs
scooping them up
and put them into my mouth.

oooooooommmmmmmmm

nice.

Then
I look again
and on one side where it's been cut,
it's all crumbly.

So I take a knife
I think I'll just tidy that up a bit,
cut off the crumbly bits
scoop them all up
and into the mouth

oooooommm mmmm
nice.

Look at the cake again.

That looks a bit funny now,
one side doesn't match the other
I'll just even it up a bit, eh?

Take the knife
and slice.
This time the knife makes a little cracky noise
as it goes through that hard icing on top.

A whole slice this time,

into the mouth.

Oh the icing on top
and the icing in the middle
ohhhhhh oooo mmmmmm.

But now
I can't stop myself
Knife -
1 just take any old slice at it
and I've got this great big chunk
and I'm cramming it in
what a greedy pig
but it's so nice,

and there's another
and another and I'm squealing and I'm smacking my lips
and I'm stuffing myself with it
and
before I know
I've eaten the lot.
The whole lot.

I look at the plate.
It's all gone.

Oh no
they're bound to notice, aren't they,
a whole chocolate cake doesn't just disappear
does it?

What shall 1 do?

I know. I'll wash the plate up,
and the knife

and put them away and maybe no one
will notice, eh?

So I do that
and creep creep creep
back to bed
into bed
doze off
licking my lips
with a lovely feeling in my belly.
Mmmmrnmmmmm.

In the morning I get up,
downstairs,
have breakfast,
Mum's saying,
'Have you got your dinner money?'
and I say,
'Yes.'
'And don't forget to take some chocolate cake with you.'
I stopped breathing.

'What's the matter,' she says,
'you normally jump at chocolate cake?'

I'm still not breathing,
and she's looking at me very closely now.

She's looking at me just below my mouth.
'What's that?' she says.
'What's what?' I say.

'What's that there?'
'Where?'
'There,' she says, pointing at my chin.
'I don't know,' I say.
'It looks like chocolate,' she says.
'It's not chocolate is it?'
No answer.
'Is it?'
'I don't know.'
She goes to the cupboard
looks in, up, top, middle, bottom,
turns back to me.
'It's gone.
It's gone.
You haven't eaten it, have you?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know. You don't know if you've eaten a whole
chocolate cake or not?
When? When did you eat it?'

So I told her,

and she said
well what could she say?
'That's the last time I give you any cake to take
to school.
Now go. Get out
no wait
not before you've washed your dirty sticky face.'
I went upstairs
looked in the mirror
and there it was,
just below my mouth,
a chocolate smudge.
The give-away.
Maybe she'll forget about it by next week.





Thursday, May 7, 2026

The Child Who Was Wild by Michael Rosen

 


The Child Who Was Wild

by Michael Rosen


Once there was a woman, a young, young woman
She ran from the city, the old, old city
She ran to the woods, the deep dark woods
She wasn’t seen for days. Days, weeks and months.
She came out of the woods, the deep dark woods
She came with a child, a child who was wild.
She brought the child to the city, the old, old city
He grew and he grew and he grew and he grew
Out of his hands grew shoots: green shoots and leaves
Out of his shoulders grew the lily and the rose
His hair was the blossom that blows in the wind,
He stood in the city, the old, old city
with the leaves and the flowers and the blossom
falling, falling, falling on grey, grey gravel.





Wednesday, May 6, 2026

Alphabet by Michael Rosen

 

Illustration By Enki Bilal

Alphabet

by Michael Rosen


 

You found a place
where I wasn't me
you shut your eyes
and you could see.....
an apple all alone,
bears being bad,
computers cooking cakes,
dogs drawing dad.






Sunday, May 3, 2026

Boogy Woogy Buggy by Michael Rosen

 



Boogy Woogy Buggy

by Michael Rosen


I glide as I ride
in my boogy woogy buggy
take the corners wide
just see me drive
I’m an easy speedy baby
doing the baby buggy jive

I’m in and out the shops
I’m the one that never stops
I’m the one that feels
the beat of the wheels
all that air
in my hair
I streak down the street
between the feet that I meet.

No one can catch
my boogy woogy buggy
no one’s got the pace
I rule this place

I’m a baby who knows
I’m a baby who goes, baby, goes.








Friday, May 1, 2026

Do I know you? by Michael Rosen

 



Illustration by Enki Bilal


¿Te conozco?

Por Michael Rosen


Estoy perdido,
estoy perdido,
no sé dónde estoy.
Soy un calcetín en una lavadora,
una fresa en mermelada,
soy una carta en un libro,
soy la burbuja en una bebida efervescente,
soy un guijarro en la playa,
soy una pregunta en un concurso.
No sé dónde estás,
no sabes dónde estás,
no sabes cuándo estoy,
no sé cómo estabas,
no sabes a quién me refiero.

Así que encuéntrame
Encuéntrame
Pregúntame quién soy
Sácame de la lavadora
Sácame de la mermelada
Abre el libro
Deja salir toda la efervescencia
Caminemos por la playa
Y responderé a tu cuestionario
Entonces sabré dónde estás
Sabrás cuándo estoy
Sabré cómo estabas
Y sabrás a quién admiro.






Wednesday, April 15, 2026

Michael Rosen / Don't mention the children

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7DiGkQS2h8


Don't mention the children 

by Michael Rosen


Don't mention the children.

Don't name the dead children.

The people must not know the names

of the dead children.

The names of the children must be hidden.

The children must be nameless.

The children must leave this world

having no names.

No one must know the names of

the dead children.

No one must say the names of the

dead children.

No one must even think that the children

have names.

People must understand that it would be dangerous

to know the names of the children.

The people must be protected from

knowing the names of the children.

The names of the children could spread

like wildfire.

The people would not be safe if they knew

the names of the children.

Don’t name the dead children.

Don’t remember the dead children.

Don’t think of the dead children.

Don’t say: ‘dead children’.