- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3
Leaves trap the sun
Dark brown trunk
A child’s drawing
Dead, but shining
in the morning sun
Froth of regrowth
at its roots
Towers a silver
Branches curve tortuous
weaving and gliding
starting way up
the tall straight trunk
Dull eucalypt green
hang down to escape
the sun’s rays
Trunk bright pink-gold
with duck bills
The first Europeans
their own eyes
they longed to see
typical (Northern) tree
starting with T.
Virginia says: I spent the first weeks of January in the mountains, Falls Creek (about 40 friends took over a ski lodge). Falls Creek was in the middle of a bushfire about 12 years ago, and is surrounded by bleached white dead trees – sad, but beautiful – and regrowing. I had several phrases in my mind, and the letter T sparked off contemplation about the comparison between Northern and Southern Hemisphere trees, and reactions to them. It is my usual blank verse, short lines, with some half rhymes thrown in.
Get outside and play you kids,
my mother said one day,
go climb a tree, or fly a kite,
just get outside and play.
But the tree is small,
the kite is broke,
it’s been raining here all day.
We have to stay inside today,
it’s far too wet to play.
We’ll have a look, the oldest said,
and find a middle ground.
We’ll channel surf the TV now
and see what can be found.
A show on rocks and mountain tops,
fresh air, and stuff like that
and here is one of flies in flight
and how to clip a cat.
Us younger ones are crying out
how boring are all those!
The oldest one just winks at Mum
and gets out raincoat clothes.
Myra says: Thinking about kids on school holidays and Mum wanting some peace and quiet. My sister was 10 years older than me and wise beyond her years.
The first two Poetry Prompts for the year have attracted a wonderful response. It’s been exciting checking my in box each day to see what’s turned up. Keep them coming! If you’ve missed a prompt, that’s okay, you can catch up any time you like as long as you put a note on your poem to that effect. Remember, too, this site is to showcase poems for children and encourage their love of poetry. Have fun, play with words. This week’s prompt is ‘Shapes’ so whether you write about shapes or shape your poem according to its subject is up to you.Send your poems to me at firstname.lastname@example.org as a Word document attachment and I’ll choose a selection to feature as Poem of the Day.
By Bill Condon
I’ve studied all the dinosaurs
That history’s unravelled,
And found a few new species
On the many roads I’ve travelled.
There’s the arrogant Ignore-osaur
That walks with head on high.
It does not even deign to look
As it trundles by.
The Badbreath-osaur has germs galore
And needs to brush its teeth.
The Crook-osaur is, for sure,
A crafty little thief.
The Bore-osaur is tedious,
The Brag-osaur’s a pain.
If nothing else, Umbrella-saurs,
Are handy in the rain.
I quite admire the Stutter-saur
It tries with all its might,
To master elocution,
But it never gets it right.
My favourite though,
I have to say, is bits of this and that.
Part brontosaur, part stegosaur,
Part giant pussycat.
I call it Jigsaw-osaur,
Its wonder never ceases.
I have a skeleton of one,
Though I’m missing vital pieces …
In my very big house
There’s a very small room
That’s just the right size for me
It’s under the stairs
It’s got pillows for chairs
And a torch so my teddies can see
There we read and we play
And tell stories all day
You see, we don’t need too much space
It’s all that I need
And I’m happy indeed
When I’ve crawled into my secret place.
T’s always starting Trouble as we very clearly see,
In Trains it must sit at the front, as selfish as can be,
Then when it comes to Taking Turns, of course it must be first,
As Time and Time again, in this, it really is the worst.
Its influence is very bad, of that there is no doubt,
For when there’s work for it to do we find it backing ouT.
A man named Ben was joined by T and instantly was BenT,
So gained a reputation that was never his intent!
Now people sometimes tell you, you should “mind your Ps and Qs”,
But when it comes to letters there’s another that I’d choose.
Its awfully bad behaviour’s bound to lead you into error,
So I’d advise: “Beware of T!” It truly is a Terror.
Monty says: My basic idea for the poem was to work with the actual letter T: its position in words and how it could be taken from or added to words to change them into new words. Although I could find lots of examples, for me it proved difficult to shape these into any sort of coherent narrative that could be taken literally, and also had a consistent rhyming scheme (which was my goal). I nearly gave up, but I found giving the letter T a personality helped focus my effort and gave the poem unity.