I have been writing poetry for most of my life. One of my first poems was published in the school newsletter when I was nine and I can still remember how proud I felt knowing that other people appreciated my words. I continued writing poetry and have shared many poems with family and friends over the years, particularly at special times throughout my life. Several of my poems have been acknowledged in poetry competitions and recently, I was thrilled to gain 1st prize in the Kathleen Julia Bates Writing Competition for my poem The Family Cat. Since that time, I have written many more children’s poems, with three of those poems listed on this website. I hope you enjoy reading them.
Over the last ten years, I have also written many children’s picture books and chapter books, with two published: Rusty Rumble and his Smelly Socks and Rusty Rumble’s Day at the Beach. www.diannellisbooks.com
I can be contacted through my website and I am always happy to share my writing stories, including why I love to write.
Poems by Dianne Ellis
A Clean Sock’s Dilemma
What was she thinking?
What did she mean?
Throwing me in
when I’m so clean –
here in this cage
the odd one out.
Maybe she’d hear me
if I could shout.
This truly is a terrible crime
to toss me in with sweat and grime.
If I was soiled…in need of attention,
I would love a soaking intervention,
but I’m white, clean and very pristine.
If only I could jump out and be seen.
I’d be returned to my lifetime mate
to be folded together – a blissful fate,
safely tucked in our top drawer
until her feet need us once more.
Nevertheless, I have to be strong,
hoping that wash day soon comes along.
But wait! The lid’s opening –
Oh no! My greatest fear –
AAAaaaaaaagghhh! HELP ME!!!
IT’S HIS FILTHY GYM GEAR!!!!
© Dianne Ellis
Jumping Jack Russell
I sit quietly at my desk
gazing beyond the glaze
to the line of weary wears
being whipped by the wintry winds,
A small patched head
again and again…
to a muscular rhythm.
like a bird in flight,
to look his way
as he sings his song:
Here I am…
Look at me…
at the endless energy
of my faithful friend
and open the door.
He shadows my return
to the quiet zone,
sits at my feet
as I sit and write
The Hungry Possum
I heard a rustle in the night
beyond our fire.
It gave me a fright.
A rounded shape I could barely see
was climbing down a nearby tree.
Its eyes were glowing fiery red –
“You know it IS nocturnal,” Dad said.
“So where does it go during the day?”
“To sleep – in a cosy tree – I’d say.”
The possum landed on the ground
and munched away on food it found.
With pointed ears, it sat quite high
searching for more.
I caught its eye.
I threw some apple near my feet.
It scurried over to such a treat.
When I placed some on my shoe
the possum moved closer too.
It devoured the lot in front of me,
its bushy tail brushing my knee.
Then it leapt on my chair…
into my lap…
It gave me a scare.
It bounded swiftly up the tree…
and stared at me
with my banana in its grip.
All in all – a successful trip!