Working on transferring site to
this new location!
Check back later for more!
(updated May 2022)
Welcome to Sparrow's Garden
Our Little Sparrow hopes that you will enjoy her poems on these pages. Which poem is your favorite? Can you memorize the poem and tell it to your family and friends?
Let's go see what we can find in Sparrow's Garden!
email K.L. Sparrow: firstname.lastname@example.org
Feel free to print these poems for personal and educational use, just include "by K.L. Sparrow" as author!
(permission required for any other use)
I have a little goldfish,
a-swimming in a tank—
but I can't have a puppy,
and I have my fish to thank.
I asked Dad for a puppy,
he said "You have a pet!
Maybe someday you'll get one",
but I haven't got him yet.
He says I must start feeding
my goldfish every day
to learn responsibility,
and not just run and play.
I said I might forget,
'cuz my fish is awfully quiet—
a puppy, he could bark at me,
but Dad, he didn't buy it.
A goldfish isn't cuddly,
you can't take him for a walk—
I tried to tell my Dad this,
but he didn't want to talk.
So now I try each day
to put food inside that tank.
I still don't have my puppy,
and I have the fish to thank.
I love to wear my cool black hat.
It makes me feel so grown-up that,
just sometimes, when my Mom is gone,
I feel in charge when that hat's on.
I tell my brother what to do—
I make my sister mind me too.
Now, they don't like it very much,
they think I'm bossy, mean and such.
But they're mistaken, they're just wrong—
my hat makes me grown-up and strong!
I'm different when I wear my hat
it changes me, and that is that.
It dawned a gray and rainy day,
my thoughts were all in a muddle.
I walked outside and came upon
rubber duckies in a puddle.
Who placed them there I cannot know,
and guessing can only befuddle.
But rubber duckies they surely were,
all floating there in a huddle.
It could well be that they were meant
precisely just to confuddle
a passer by who'd see them there
and not dare to begruddle
three rubber duckies, though they be
of plastic and too wet to cuddle.
But I just smiled and left them
to get rained on in the puddle.
The Problem with Popples
Oh what can you say to a Popple?
You know how they drip and they dropple
all their things on the floor—
food and drinks and much more,
so that Mom has to get out the mopple.
Yes Popples, they drop and they dribble.
A Popple should just use a bibble—
but it seems they don't care
if stuff spills here and there,
while they're having a drink or a nibble.
They drop puddings and pies,
spill their shakes and their fries,
and their milk glasses drip,
while their eggs slide and slip,
and they drop their french toast—
(that's what bugs me the most)
which is buttered quite thickly,
so we clean it up quickly,
Those Popples make piles and puggles.
The floor is all muckles and muggles.
They don't hear what you say,
they do things their own way,
and don't mind they don't get any huggles.
I hope that you have a good mopple
and that, if you do drip or dropple—
you will clean it up good,
as a nice person should,
because peoples are neater than Popples.
© All Poems Copyright Katharine L. Sparrow 2020, 2021