“A Night to be Remembered” by Toni Newell

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I sneaked into a toy store,

And hid in a cubby house,

There I waited patiently,

As quiet as a mouse.

Finally the lights went off,

I heard the back door slam,

I crept out of the cubby house,

And now, here I am.

I look around the many shelves,

And see a teddy bear,

He opens his eyes slowly,

They look at me and stare.

I move a little closer,

And he holds out a paw,

I put my hand out in return,

And shake his paw of straw.

Then I see Donald Duck,

He’s quacking, on the floor,

Waking up the other toys,

Which were all asleep before.

There is quite a commotion,

As Thomas blows his whistle,

Barbie struts her fashion,

The goat tries to eat the thistle.

Then lego pieces start to move,

And form a winding bridge,

Hermit and me with others,

Cross to find a quaint village.

 

 

There we come upon an elf,

Who’s dressed in green and dancing,

We all join in, holding hands,

All singing and laughing.

Now the bear starts to perform,

Then ‘Superman’ flies in,

He tries to keep us all in order,

Whilst the games finally begin.

All the animals on the farm,

Are now roaming free,

The cows and pigs and sheep and more,

Have this pent-up energy.

They start to run around the shop,

Making lots and lots of noise,

Running into the furniture,

And many other toys.

They run until exhausted,

When finally they stop,

Allowing me to hug them,

And pat their furry top.

All at once I feel I’m moving,

How can it possibly be?

I hear a voice which won’t stop calling,

I’ve been dreaming; my mum’s calling me.

 Toni Newell

Teacher Notes by Jeanie Axton

Watch the film clip below on “100 Years of Toys”

  1. Discuss the differences between toys 100 years ago and now
  2. Write a list of toys that were popular then and are popular now Eg scooter
  3. Think about your favourite toy presently
  4.  Create an Acrostic describing your toy and share with a group

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Watercolour” by Virginia Lowe

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Saffron and rose madder

sea-sheet reflects

in symmetry the sky

On this burnished brightness

waves encroach

Leaden opaque they flow

zinc white against

the watercolour’s glow

 

A vision or a concept

beckons bright

But words

which seemed so clear and pure

across it spread

do nothing but obscure

“Humpty Dumpty” by Katherine Gallagher

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Humpty Dumpty

jumped in the sea.

 

Humpty Dumpty

sank instantly.

 

All the young mermaids

and their mermen

 

couldn’t get Humpty

to surface again.

 

©Katherine Gallagher,

“Water fight” by Jenny Erlanger

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Water fight

My father is fighting the water

but some of it’s gone up his nose.

My sister and brother

and even my mother

are soggy right down to their toes.

They’re starting to sound pretty angry,

I’ll have to give in, I suppose

but I know for a fact

that I can’t be attacked

if I stay on this end of the hose.

This was first published in “Play” (Paper Dart Press, UK 2018)

“Creating Poetry” by Toni Newell

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Creating  Poetry

Some wear their heart on their sleeve,

Whilst others invest in words,

Sometimes in the form of poetry,

Allowing themselves to be heard.

Taking the opportunity,

To sift through muddled thoughts,

Seeking a type of clarity,

Words on a page that are caught.

Then harnessing the words,

Forming some sort of order,

Making sense of them all,

Before gluing them together.

And, when it is finished,

Words cast in cement,

Sentiment and message delivered,

Produce a passage that’s relevant.

“Hidden Writing” by Andrew Carter

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Hidden Writing

 

Some write with pleasure since young,

Some find writing homework a chore.

Some don’t write much at all

Or, write later in life when they’re bored.

Writing is a hidden gift for some,

Late bloomers are like a late flowering flower

Some are just blooming late,

having doubts from the start until,

they finish with flourishing power.

“Coastal Reverie” by J. R. Poulter with Teacher Notes

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“A Recipe For Dew” by Celia Berrell

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A recent rain

to quench and share.

A cloudless night

to cool the air.

 

The slightest breeze

to chill on cue

the grass and leaves.

Here comes the dew.

 

The stage is set

for dawn’s sensation.

Jewel-studded

condensation.

 

Blanket-strewn

on grassy stems

are rainbow-sparkling

water gems.

 

first published in CSIRO’s Scientriffic magazine No 85, July 2013

“What will I write of next?” by Jeanie Axton

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The pen flew up in the air

A pencil followed next

the stapler did a little jig

across the writing desk

 

The ruler stomped his wooden feet

A window opened wide

Then all the pretty writing paper

rose up and blew outside

 

The writer sat and pondered

What will I write of next?

With all this chaos going on

here on my writing desk

“Brain Fight” by Kesta Fleming

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Brain Fight

I need to write a poem but I don’t know what to write.

I want to write a poem but my brain’s put up a fight.

I wonder if I trick it – if I lure it somewhere good –

It’ll let me write my poem. Boy, I really wish it would!

If I make a cosy spot for it with lots to keep it busy,

I can grab my pen and paper, and then write until I’m dizzy. But…

My brain is much too clever. It sees right through my plan.

It says ‘A poem’s good, it’s true, but let’s go visit Gran!’

And I say ‘Good idea!’ And I’m heading out the door

When I realise that old brain of mine has tricked me like before.

So I go inside and sit back down and try to start again.But

This brain of mine, this bane of mine, jacks up with all the strain.

It says ‘Not now, not here!’ It says ‘Not there, not then!’

It says ‘But you’ve got other jobs more pressing. Let’s do them!’

But I say, ‘Come on Brain Box. The other things can wait.

They’re little things, they’re easy things… A poem’s something great.’

Again my brain’s protesting: ‘A poem takes too long!

It’s tricky with that rhyme and stuff. I’ll get the rhythm wrong!’

And now we’re on to something: my brain is filled with fear.

So I coax it very gently and I tell it that I’m here.

I tell it that together we can get this poem done,

That even though it seems quite hard it might, in fact, be fun.

But still it kicks and screams a bit, and finds one more excuse.

So I chase it, and I pounce on it! Who let this brain run loose?!

And then at last I realise that this brain is mine to tame.

It’s mine to take control of. I can stop its silly game. So…

I shock it into action. Yes! I take it by surprise.

And here, before its noticed, is my poem!

That’s my prize.