Poetry Prompt #51

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Hi everyone,

It’s the time of year when many of us are thinking of giving, so what better to prompt your creativity than a gift tag. Don’t let the image limit you, though. Gifts can be many and varied and some of the most memorable we receive are not material. Time…thoughtfulness…caring and consideration…friendship… See what you can come up with in a poem for children.

Thank you to all the wonderful poets submitting regularly to this site. Your contributions are much appreciated. Please keep them coming. I love reading your work and sharing it with our growing list of followers.

Send your poems to me at traffa-m@bigpond.net.au as a Word or text document attachment and add a few lines about your writing process.

Happy writing!


Poem of the Day

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Star of Hope


Sparkle, sparkle, heav’nly gem,

Lead the wise to Bethlehem.

For their journey from afar,

You will be their guiding star.

Lead them onward to the west:

So they may be truly blessed,

As they offer gifts they bring

To the newborn infant King.

Star of hope: from heav’n a sign,

Lead them to the Child divine!

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #50


Monty says: I’d been trying on and off to produce a new Christmas poem since the “star” prompt (#35). Along came #49 “Christmas” and suddenly time was running out, but at last #50 “Sparkle” (cf.”twinkle”) got me going, with the above result.

Poem of the Day


We Wish You a Merry Birthday


My name is Noelle and I’m sorry to say

that I was born on Christmas Day,

after the presents but before the singing

(nonsense about sleigh bells ringing).

My father claimed he’d had a hunch

that I’d be born right after lunch

and so it was: Mum gave a shout!

Pudding went in, I popped out.

I wish, I wish, I really do

she’d held on for a week or two.

Each year I share my special day

with that festering, festive holiday.

Instead of balloons I get baubles.

My head aches as my family warbles

Christmas carols all day long—

I never get a birthday song

and though each year I get a cake

it’s always fruit, for goodness sake.

I always thought it couldn’t be worse

than a birthday with a tinsel curse

till my sister made my birthday cool—

she was born an April fool.

Jessica Nelson

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #49
    poetry-prompt-48Jessica said: I was guilty of having a baby on Christmas Day last year, and I’ve been filled in on the potential downsides of a birthday overshadowed by Christmas. I hope she always finds her birthday special, and I’ll be sure to sing her Happy Birthday every year.


Poem of the Day

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The Christmas Garden


Right across from my house is a garden sublime,

where it looks like it’s Christmas there all of the time.

There are several old pine trees all bushy and green,

with the largest brown pine cones that you’ve ever seen.

There’s a seat on the lawn that just looks like a sleigh,

simply waiting for reindeer to pull it away.

There are statues of angels turned up to the sky,

sculptured wings all out ready to fly, oh so high.

And then peeking round flowers quite pleased with themselves

are some colourful gnomes that could pass for the elves.

Now this garden belongs to a fellow called Dawes,

who looks very much like, the real Santa Claus.

He is jolly and round, with a beard snowy white

and he works in his workshop late into the night.

Each December he puts on a Christmas display,

that brings people to visit from far and away.

On the pine trees are baubles and lights that all shine.

There is tinsel, and snowflakes and gold stars divine.

Harnessed up to the sleigh stands a proud reindeer team,

with big Rudolph out front – his red nose all a-gleam.

All the angels now stand singing carols and hymns,

while the elves wear red hats each with festive white trims.

Now lean over close and I’ll whisper to you

a secret that’s known but to only a few.

A tale so amazing you may not believe

that magic takes place there on each Christmas Eve.

When darkness has fallen and shadows are deep,

the elves and the reindeer awake from their sleep.

All the angels fly over the sleigh sprinkling gold

and transform the old seat to a sight to behold.

A sack is now filled to the brim with bright toys,

for kind little girls and good little boys.

Mister Dawes dressed in red, then strides out to his sleigh,

quickly takes up the reins and flies quietly away.

It is just as the sun starts to rise Christmas morn,

that the reindeer fly quietly back onto the lawn.

In the instant they land things are back how they were,

All except for old Dawes, who is still dressed in fur.

As he’s done every year for a very long while,

He now looks to my window and gives me a smile.

I then nod and I wave as I sit there relieved,

again pleased that in magic, I’ve always believed.

Caroline Tuohey
  • Submitted in response to poetry prompt #49


Caroline said: This poem was inspired by the garden of my mum’s friend Sue – she loves Christmas and each year, when I was a child, we’d visit her in the lead up to Christmas Day.  Her house and garden were always full of beautiful decorations and it seemed a totally magical place – as close to the real Santa’s house and garden as you could get.


Poem of the Day

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Last night

Last night I saw something that

I’d never seen before.

This something that I’d never seen

was right outside my door.


It made me gasp aloud with shock

the moment that I saw it.

The something was so big and red

I couldn’t dare ignore it.


I quickly jumped out of my bed,

tip-toed across the floor.

I had to know about this thing

I hadn’t seen before.


As soon as I crept close to it

my heart began to race.

I saw the thing was not a thing

because it had a face!


My body shook from head to toe,

my mind was full of fear.

There was someone that I’d never seen

and he was very near.


I stared in shock at his red coat,

his boots of blackest black.

I saw the pompom on his hat,

the bulging big red sack.


And then I had to laugh out loud.

You know why, I’m sure.

That someone was not scary at all.

It was Santa that I saw.

Kristin Martin
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #49


Poem of the Day


The Visit

Cautiously, creeping down the stairs,

carefully avoiding the creaks,

we stop

and take each other’s hand.

At the bottom we tiptoe,


towards the door.

Almost afraid to breathe

we slowly, gently, push it open.

Beneath the twinkling lights

sit the gifts.

‘He’s been,’ we whisper

‘He’s been.’

Pat Simmons

(Published 2014 by Celapene Press, Short and Twisted and Thynks Publications Bards at Blidworth and Beyond Anthology)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #49


Poetry Prompt #50

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Hi everyone, are you ready to shine? I hope this week’s prompt will spark your creativity and inspire some wonderfully creative poems for children. Please email your submissions to me at traffa-m@bigpond.net.au and attach them as a Word or text document file rather than posting them as a comment to today’s blog. I don’t want to miss them!

Happy writing!


Poem of the Day

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Buccaneer Secrets


When Spanish ships were making trips

To trade and gather treasure,

Crews learned to fear the buccaneer,

Whose boldness knew no measure.


I should be clear, a buccaneer

Was tough and rough and ruthless

He’d climb aboard and use his sword

Or make his victims toothless.


Then, grabbing loot, he’d quickly scoot

Before someone could catch him.

He’d sail away to find more prey;

For daring, few could match him!


But now, today, I need to say

(Though sworn to keep it quiet):

He won’t attack if there’s a lack

Of fibre in his diet!


For I have heard, (it sounds absurd),

He craves a balanced meal,

Including beans and other greens

Before he’ll sail to steal.


Don’t think me wrong. I’ve heard the song

When buccaneers assemble.

They drop their ‘g’s, which does not please,

But these words make me tremble:


“Now bring your bunch of broccoli, boys

And throw it in the basin.

We’ll eat it raw and call for more

Then ships we’ll go a-chasin’!”


Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #29

Poetry Prompt #29

Monty says: I began by researching  buccaneers to introduce the poem, then made a first draft of their song about broccoli, which led to the thoughts about fibre and a balanced diet. The concluding verses had to be revised to accommodate the basin and justify the final rhyme.

Poem of the Day

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A Jar of Pickles


I had a jar of pickles,

but they were very fickle.

I had to go in for a quick kill,

but couldn’t get them out

without a fierce rout.

Firmly wedged inside the jar

they wouldn’t budge a bar

until I tried a tickle

then out they poured in a trickle

that fickle jar of pickles.

Vanessa Proctor
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

poetry prompt #32







Poem of the Day




Some dogs are scary.
You have to be wary.

Some dogs are fat.
They could squash you flat.

Some dogs are tiny
and yappy and whiny.

Some dogs are old
and can’t do what they’re told.

Some dogs are jumpy.
They make me feel grumpy.

Some dogs are fast.
I just watch them run past.

Some dogs are busy
and rush round till they’re dizzy.

But my dog is great.
She’s my very best mate.

Kristin Martin