A Bit About Poems by P J Rodriquez

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What is a poem?
It’s words from the heart,
with rhythm and rhyme,
with an end and a start.

What’s in a poem?
That’s all up to you.
People or places
or things that you do.

All poems grow
from a thought or a theme –
an idea or feeling
that flows like a stream.

Reading or hearing
a poem’s like song.
The words are the music.
Join in. Sing along.

Poems are fun.
Sort of playing with words.
Like …
Let’s all grow feathers
and fly with the birds.
Let’s all be cows
and play football in herds.

There are all sorts of poems
with all sorts of sound
with all sorts of meanings.
You’ll find them around.

Search them online.
Check the library shelf.
Look in a bookstore –
or write one yourself!

I can’t write a poem!
Now, how do you know?
Why don’t you try it?
Just give it a go.

Maybe …
Write about breakfast.
A story at first.
Like …
How you kept eating
until
BANG!
You burst.

Then write it in rhyme.
Just a few lines at first
Don’t try to be best
or believe it’s the worst.

Enjoy!
Write your poem
then read it aloud.
Share it with others.
You did it!
Be proud.

Read lots and write lots.
Have poetry fun
For you …
or your friends …
or perhaps …
everyone!

A Bit About Poems by P J Rodriquez

Image by Klimkin from Pixabay

Bendy Wendy by James Aitchison

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Bendy Wendy the contortionist

could tie herself in knots:

not just one or two knots,

but lots and lots and lots!

Until she got so twisted,

like a piece of rope,

and no one could undo her,

they all just gave up hope.

But one winter’s morning

Wendy caught a cold,

she sneezed and sneezed so hard,

her body just unrolled.

Bendy Wendy by James Aitchison

Image from Pexels

Lighting the Way by Celia Berrell

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They left this land to go to war.
Our treasured young women and men.
With fear and doubt within their hearts
of whether they’d return again.

And those of us who stay behind
look anxiously beyond that day
with hope and love for their return.
In spirit, we will light their way.

Lighting the Way by Celia Berrell

Painting: LIGHTING THE WAY by Sharon Davson

A DAY LIKE NO OTHER by James Aitchison

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Their names are etched forever

beneath a statue’s feet,

or beside a lofty obelisk

on every main street.

They left their farms to fight,

young men who heard the call,

from offices and banks,

prepared to give their all.

Some fell in foreign fields,

in trenches far away,

while others maimed and struggling,   

relived their horrors every day.

The debt our nation owes them —

how can it be repaid?

Let us all remember them,

let not their honour fade.

A DAY LIKE NO OTHER by James Aitchison

Photo sent in by James Aitchison: “George William Aitchison (1873-1950) served with the NSW Volunteer Bushmen in the Boer War”

Teacher’s note: From the Boer War to Afghanistan, 103,101 men and women have died serving Australia.

ANZAC Day (Haiku) by Leigh van der Veen

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Pinned on rosemary 

Cold vermillion sky at dawn 

Wreaths placed, hope for peace. 

ANZAC Day by Leigh van der Veen

Image from Pexels

Teachers note: Rosemary grows wild on the Gallipoli peninsular. Australians wear rosemary to honour the sacrifice of service personnel.

Anzac Day (Nonet) by Cody

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As light creeps slowly we remember,

Those who fought and risked lives in war.

Now they rest eternally,

We will remember them.

We thank the fallen.

Lest we forget,

ANZAC Day.

They die,

Fell.

Anzac Day by Cody – Townsville Grammar School, North Shore

Image from Vecteezy

Bees (Nonet) by Isabelle

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Little bees flying around the sky,

Pollinating the cute flowers.

Living the beautiful life,

Flying around the woods.

Peacefully buzzing,

Black and yellow.

Very soft

Insects.

Bee!

Bees by Isabelle – Townsville Grammar School, North Shore

Image from Pixabay

Space (Haiku) by Madden

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A cold dark abyss

Multiple planets and stars

So much to explore

Space by Madden – Townsville Grammar School, North Shore

Image from Pixabay

The Owl by Toni Newell

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Eyes open
Wide and yellow
Alert, cold
Not warm and mellow.
A piercing glance
Looks through the night
And guides its wings
When it’s in flight.
The hooting sound
It often makes
Stakes claim to space
And calls for mates.
White feathers smooth
Around the eyes
Resemble marbles
In disguise.
I look at it
And wonder why
It’s been described
As being wise.
The owl so regal
On its perch
Eyes wide open
Of prey in search.

The Owl by Toni Newell

Image from Pixabay

Craft Group by Frankie Rose

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People gathered in the hall

The chatter loudly soaring

Cuppas, biscuits, busy hands

It must be Craft Group morning.

Craft Group by Frankie Rose

Image from Pixabay