Monster Poems, Page 1

Monster In My Closet

There’s a monster in my closet – get him out!
There’s a monster in my closet – hear me shout!
There’s a monster in my closet
And it's true because I saw it;
There’s a monster in my closet – get him out!

There’s a monster in my closet and he’s big,
And he thinks he’s funny when he wears a wig;
He’s a big and ugly brute
Yet he’s also kind of cute
When he plays the flute and tries to dance a jig.

There’s a monster in my closet – I should know!
In the darkness I can see his red eyes glow;
Strangest thing I’ve ever seen,
Though his skin is mossy green,
‘Round his neck he wears a neon purple bow.

There’s a monster in my closet every night,
And to some I guess he’d be a scary sight
When he opens up the door
And lets out a fearsome roar;
But he runs away when I turn on the light.

There’s a monster in my closet I can’t keep,
For his breathing is so loud that I can’t sleep;
I have tried to plug my ears
But it sounds like grinding gears,
And I think I’ve counted fifty million sheep!

There’s a monster in my closet, don’t you see,
And nobody else can see him – only me!
But I wish he’d go some place
Where I could not see his face;
Then I’ll lock the door and throw away the key.

© Fay Herridge

There Are Monsters

There are monsters in the yard having a ball
As they stomp around inside the old stone wall;
Monster Mash and Lizard Crawl,
They are dancing, one and all;
Slightly out of step and not afraid to fall.

There are monsters in the moat swimming around
And the splashing water makes a happy sound;
In the water, on the ground,
Playing new games they have found;
And it seems that a new champion has been crowned.

There are monsters in the house having a feast
As they sample every dish three times at least;
From the west and from the east,
Chomping down a gourmet feast
But they won’t eat anything that’s made with yeast.

There are monsters that have come from everywhere,
And to see them all together is so rare;
Some in groups and some in pairs,
Running up and down the stairs,
Hard to find a moment’s peace but they don’t care.

There are monsters hiding underneath the bed,
In the closets, in the dungeons, in the shed;
They tried standing on their heads,
But they’re playing games instead,
And their eyes are getting tired and turning red.

© Fay Herridge

Monster Tales

© Fayz World & Sugarwolf Designs