My Pets
I’ve got a pet potato,
I think I’ll call him Pete.
He rolls around the kitchen
Cos he hasn’t any feet.
I’ve got a pet green apple,
I think I’ll call her Sue.
She hangs around the fruit bowl
‘Til she’s almost turned to goo.
I’ve got a pet banana,
I think I’ll call him Stan.
He doesn’t move about much,
He’s really got no plan.
I’ve got a small pet onion,
I think I’ll call her Joan.
She tends to smell peculiar
And won’t talk on the phone.
I’ve got a cute pet kiwi,
I think I’ll call him Dave.
He’s rather green and bristly,
I think he needs a shave.
Mum ate my pets for dinner ...
Maybe I’ll get a cat.
I think I’ll call him Pete.
He rolls around the kitchen
Cos he hasn’t any feet.
I’ve got a pet green apple,
I think I’ll call her Sue.
She hangs around the fruit bowl
‘Til she’s almost turned to goo.
I’ve got a pet banana,
I think I’ll call him Stan.
He doesn’t move about much,
He’s really got no plan.
I’ve got a small pet onion,
I think I’ll call her Joan.
She tends to smell peculiar
And won’t talk on the phone.
I’ve got a cute pet kiwi,
I think I’ll call him Dave.
He’s rather green and bristly,
I think he needs a shave.
Mum ate my pets for dinner ...
Maybe I’ll get a cat.
This poem is copyright (©) Lisa Allen 2023

About the Writer
Lisa Allen
Lisa Allen lives in Liverpool with her husband, two mini bookworms and a perpetually hungry black cat. In a past life, she was a business journalist, but more recently enjoyed a brief stint as a college librarian. Her MG fiction and poetry usually features baked goods, comedy and mythical, magical mayhem. She is represented by Amberley Lowis at The Viney Agency. Twitter: @Bozzle