Poem of the Day

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Magic making

by Jenny Erlanger

 

Half a slug, a beetle’s bum,

a spoon of slime, a cup of scum,

a centipede, a rotten plum,

my special, magic tea.

 

A final pinch of possum poo

and that completes my witch’s brew

but as to what this brew will do…

Here, try some and we’ll see.

 

Poem of the Day

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Beach cones

by Monty Edwards

 

The shapes I like are conical. They taper to the tip.

Perhaps you’ve seen some shells like that when going for a dip.

Such shells are very pretty and they’re great fun to collect:

Their range of colours, streaks and spots – much more than you’d expect!

 

While at the beach you may well see a different kind of cone:

Far bigger, in a lifeguard’s hand, it’s called a megaphone.

Through this his booming voice is heard to call us back to shore.

It’s warning us of danger we’d be foolish to ignore.

 

When heading home, our swimming done, one final cone I eat.

I’m sure you’ve guessed just what it is, so icy cold and sweet!

Then as I lick the one I pick, my tongue can taste and test.

Of all the cones I’ve ever known, I like an ice-cream best!

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

Prompt3

Monty says: With no clear direction, I made a list of shapes, along with articles that either embodied them or words that rhymed with them. I wanted to avoid the familiar square/cube and circle/sphere and work with something specific that was less common and also three dimensional. From my list of words and ideas the resources for a seaside scenario emerged featuring the cone.

 

Poem of the Day

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Family tree

by Bill Condon

 

The mother was a ghost gum,

a really terrific tree-mum.

The father was a noble oak,

a shining prince of tree-dom.

You’d think with a family tree like that,

the offshoot would have to be a winner.

Instead he was a toothpick,

who lived in fear of dinner.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

 

Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.

 

Poem of the Day

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The holiday is over

by Carolyn Eldridge-Alfonzetti

 

Bone tired

Mum bends over yawning suitcases;

sorts by colour

the jumble

of sea-scented clothes.

 

The groaning washer

shudders in sympathy

as tiny souvenir shells

swim from sand-peppered pockets

to tinkle and swirl

in foreign

lemon-boosted foam.

  • First published in The School Magazine (Touchdown, April 2011)

 

Poetry prompt #4

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Prompt4

 

So many wonderful poems have been submitted in response to the Poetry Prompts I’ve been posting each Monday. Thank you for sharing them and please keep them coming. It’s so exciting checking my in box each day to see the latest arrivals. If you’ve missed a prompt, you can catch up any time you like as long as you put a note on your poem to that effect. This week’s prompt is ‘Texture’, so have fun with it. Send your submissions to me at traffa-m@bigpond.net.au as a Word document attachment and add a personal note about why or how you chose to write this particular poem.

Happy writing!

Teena

 

Poem of the Day

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An Interview with T

by Vivienne Nicoll-Hatton

 

You really want to know about me?

I’m not too ordinary for you?

I mean, I’m everywhere.

Even in Scrabble, my tiles are worth one, not two!

 

I like to keep slim, like my friends I.

E & F, and L, too,

Though they all look a bit unbalanced to me.

My horizontal hat is beautifully symmetrical.

You have noticed, haven’t you?

 

Being the 20th letter and so towards the end of the alphabet

means nothing!

I am the most frequently used letter

after those vowels, a, e, I and u.

And I’m not fussy about where I go inside a word,

Beginning, middle or end, doubled, to name just a few.

 

I’m a bit of a softy,

or at least the sound I represent is.

Toddlers can speak it by the age of two,

A gentle tap of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, behind the front teeth,

But don’t use your voice, you’ll get my cousin D’s sound if you do!

 

Do other letters want to hang about with me?

Yes, there are a few.

There are the vowels, and also some consonants

H is probably my best friend, because when he’s beside me to the left

We do this weird thing with G, you know, eight, night, and tight.

But when you put him to my right, we represent another sound, no, two.

Listen: TH: with voice we make they, their, there, they’re, and those.

Now listen again, TH: without voice we make thick, thin, thunder, through

 

Sufficient information, you say!

That’s fine. I know I’m a bit talkative.

But how many words within this little poem am I, your humble servant T, not in!

Count, I dare you to!

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

Vivienne says: I love poetry and am particularly concerned that we can get kids interested both in reading it, and then, later, writing it.

I also have an interest in English orthography: boring to many others, but not me. Hence my contribution.