The Wallapaloozas


  • Childhood

    Poem Commentary

    (a children's picture book project I'm working on)

    The Wallapaloozas

    © 2010 by Tom King

    Wallapaloozas live under my bed.
    I’m not sure just how it occurred.
    One day nothing was there
    but a dust bunny pair.
    The next my nap’s being disturbed.

    When I laid down I'd the best of intentions.
    To have me a really good snooze.
    But the racket they make
    is just too hard to take.
    They’re rude, all these Wallapaloos.

    Wallapaloozas are little blue people.
    You doubt me? Just look for yourself.
    If they’re not under the bed,
    check the closet instead.
    They’ve been camping up on the shelf.

    They’ve strung swings from the lamp
    and built roller coasters,
    Inside of my mattress I’m thinking.
    Though I try my best to get a night’s rest.
    I can hear all their clattery clinking.

    The Wallapaloozas have scattered my toys.
    I swear that I didn’t invite them.
    They borrow my junk
    and cleaned out my toy trunk
    Without my okay. Is that right then?

    A rocket they built, last night – three stages!.
    I had hoped they would fly to the moon.
    But the flight that they planned?
    Turns out it’s unmanned.
    Now their spaceship just orbits my room.

    Wallapaloozas like tools that go thump,
    And clunk and crash, boom and bang
    The racket goes on

    from bedtime till dawn
    I don’t think that sleeping’s their thang!

    Don’t blame me I’ve tried, to shoo them away.
    I once knocked down a tower they’d made.
    But it left behind rubble
    and got me in trouble.
    I had to clean up my room the next day.

    There are Wallapaloozas around here somewhere.
    They’re just hiding I promise you that.
    You could send the dog in
    to sniff out where they’ve been.
    Or to catch them just turn loose the cat!

    It’s funny about Wallapaloozas
    Usually there's nothing they fear.
    But when they take a look,
    and see you reading my book,
    They never come ‘round when you're here.

    The Wallapaloozas are quieter now
    I only hear soft evening breezes.
    Could you read that page over
    while I pull up the cover.
    It’s about time I caught me some

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    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

    twayneking’s Poems (38)

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