For My Grandson Ethan

Leave a comment


Ethen and Noah put to sea, in a beautiful pea-green boat.

They waved goodbye to their Mummy and Daddy, then struggled to stay afloat………………………….

Noah handled the sail, leaving Ethen to bail, as they rode the cresting foam

Then above the wind’s shriek, the bending mast’s creak,

They heard a mournful moan


Up from the depths, a sea-serpent leapt, its tentacles curling and twisting

they reached for the boys, with a scrabbling noise,

and set the boat spinning and listing


Staring in awe at the monster’s dark maw, their future looked terribly bleak

Each caught round the waist, they were dragged face-to-face

With huge eyes round a monstrous beak


But from deep down inside, a kindly voice cried: “Ethen, Noah you’re invited to tea!

The King and his mermaids, were told it’s your birthday.

Come, join the King of the sea!”


To the sea bed, with the serpent they sped, to a cave full of music and song

The king with his crown,  gazed regally around,

At his guests and a merry-some throng


Starfish on the ceiling, by their warm glow revealing, a most enchanting scene

Merfolk, in pairs dancing,  with seahorses  prancing

As clown fish shimmered and gleamed


A cake was unfurled, decorated with pearls, and “Happy Birthday” was joyfully sung

A treasure chest long concealed had its contents revealed

And gold coins round their necks gently hung


Then a bellowing call, echoed throughout the hall, and a giant of the sea now appeared

“Your ride has arrived” and the King winked his eye

As a whale beat it’s tail and drew near


On the backs of 2 dolphins, they perched just like Sultans, and rode to the creatures broad back

The boys cheered and waved as they swept from the cave

Into waters both cold and ink-black


To the surface they flew, launching into the blue, neath a sky now prickling with stars

Appeased and now calm into the Sea’s gentle arms

They settled and gazed up at Mars


To their ears came sad songs, deep notes, slow, prolonged, as the mermaids bade them good bye

Their boat no more needed, as a gift Ethen ceded

And they turned towards home with a sigh


The sudden flash of a light set the mermaids to flight, Ethen slowly took in the scene

There was Mum at his bed, gently stroking his head

The adventure had been but a dream.

Peter Rich


Fossil Hunters

1 Comment

Fossil Hunters

The project’s elementary:

find rock-types sedimentary

then look for marks of mystery

that tell Earth’s ancient history.


Some skeletons of bone turned stone

and eggshells left by creatures grown

much bigger than an elephant.

Were dinosaurs intelligent?


A lot of effort is exerted

digging rocks and getting dirtied

when you are a scientist

and proud Pal-e-ontologist.



Dinosaurs are awesome.  And thanks to Paleontologists, we’ve recently learnt that some had fancy feathers or colourful collars – all through finding fantastic fossils.

Celia Berrell

Pure Mischief with Teacher Notes


Teacher notes: Great ideas on using this poem in your classroom

Themes: rules, boundaries, pet care, living together harmoniously, thinking of others.

Classroom: Write a list of rules, explain why they would be good rules. Write a story or poem, or draw a picture about a funny ‘oopsie’ with a new pet or a younger sister or brother.

Discussion – Why do we have rules in the classroom, rules on the roads.

Why do we have laws?

What would happen if no one obeyed rules, if there were no boundaries, no laws or penalties for breaking them?

Cartoon Picnic


Cartoon Picnic


I stepped into the cartoon frame

I lost my voice, I lost my name

I lost my third dimension too

Last of all – my hair turned blue.


I sat upon a picnic mat

With friends who were equally flat

Their world was bright and fancy free

Their cartoon food looked heavenly


But then I learnt – this frozen frame

Had left me motionless, in vain

I pulled my sandwich towards me

It did not budge – not one degree!


Stuck in starved exasperation

I wished I were an animation.

By Lynelle Kendall

The Love of Eggs


The Love of Eggs

Mother Emu lays her eggs

Disdainfully walks away

Emu father tends their eggs

Turning each one every day


Echidna mums lay just one egg

In her pouch it hatches

When puggle starts to prickle

It’s evicted ‘cause it scratches


Mother Trapdoor loves her eggs

With silk she lines her nest

She sometimes gobbles up the dad

Mum Spider really does know best


Sea Horse Dads carry eggs in pouches

From eggs tiny foals break free

Sea Dads’ pouches stretch and stretch

Until Dads give birth in the open sea

Robyn Youl

Poetry Prompt #41

Leave a comment

Poetry Prompt #41

This week’s prompt is Feathers, Fur or Fins

Let your imagination go wild

Here is a link to a Don Spencer song to get you thinking


As from this Thursday we will have teacher notes with a poem once a week. If you wish to contribute to this please include the notes in your email. We will start this Thursday with a poem by Jennifer Poulter with notes for teachers. If you could please forward the post this Thursday to teachers and/or schools to get the word around and get your wonderful work out there for children to enjoy. Please email me with any questions about this or if you would like me to write notes for you.

Looking forward to your contributions.

Please send to:

This week’s quote to ponder on:

“Make a rule for yourself that the only way anyone will see your stories is by you writing them”

Andy Weir

(An American novelist who wrote “The Martian” adapted into a film in 2015)

Quote from Page 1 of “Buzz Words” 15/10/17

A Book


A Book!

Book book, book book! exclaimed the hen.

Really!  I replied.

Book book, book book, she clucked again.

Book book, book book, she sighed.

A book, a book – I understand.

A book, a book – but what?

Book book, book book, book book, book book

Book book, book book, Book bok…

A book, a book – I’ll have a look.

I’ll see what I can find.

A book, a book – a classic  book,

This book, you will not mind.

So we sat under the claret ash with a book; the hen and me.

And I read till it was almost dark.

Then we went inside for tea.


By Louise McCarthy


A bit of fun! I love chooks. They are very entertaining to watch and listen to.



The Wizard Comb: A Poem from a Polish Poet

1 Comment

The Wizard Comb

Hidden under the books, surrounded by pens.

White-but he has a soul of gold in a sense

He wants to fly away from the table.

Maybe then the world would be…

more wonderful.

My once favourite subject of play… with a doll;

Now broken and abandoned under the wall.

He was replaced by a NEW,

much bigger and colourful too.

I tell him of sorrows and fears.

He consoles me, wiping away all my tears,

and brings all the children sweet dreams…

Anna Banasiak

Anna is a poet and literary critic. Her poems have been published in New York, London, Surrey, Australia, Canada, India, Africa, Japan, Israel. She lives in Lodz, Poland.

The way to be


The way to be


Choose a comfy place to lie

beside your favourite tree.

Cast your eyes up to the sky

and cut your thinking free.

Watch the clouds that quietly drift

across a sheet of blue.

Savour this tremendous gift

from Nature straight to you.


Pay no heed to thought balloons,

release them one by one.

Fill your head instead with tunes

awakened by the sun –

chortles, whistles, trills and tweets,

a magpie’s sweet refrain,

Nature’s songs, melodic treats

to soothe a busy brain.


Feel the brush of breeze on skin

of gentle sun on face.

Shut your eyes and bask within

this moment’s soft embrace.

Relish feeling truly blessed,

relax beside your tree.

Give your mind a chance to rest.

It’s time to simply be.


Jenny Erlanger


1 Comment



I saw a frog in the bathroom last night

It seemed to be staring right at me in fright

big toilet roll eyes on a porcelain face

just stared up at me with a look of disgrace

did not say a word, but he sat there and frowned

as though disapproving, did not make a sound.

I pressed on his nose as he stared with distrust,

and water gushed out as the toilet bowl flushed.

I wonder if I’ll ever see him again?

I wonder if next time he might bring a friend?

© Allan Cropper