“B is for Books” by Celia Berrell

Leave a comment

“Alphabet Acrostic” by Pat Simmons

Leave a comment

“There once was a girl who ate chips” by Dannielle Viera

Leave a comment

There once was a girl who ate chips
and anything else near her lips.
She soon grew so wide
from the junk food inside
that she caused a full solar eclipse!

“Acrostic Poems” by Jenny Erlanger

Leave a comment

Acrostic poems  

 

Acrostics make me wary

Cause they set too high a goal.

Restrictive rules are scary

Once they choose to take control.

So though I can supply one,

Thanks to books that feature these,

Im not prepared to try one

Cause I lack the expertise.

“Name the Game (Riddle)” by Monty Edwards

Leave a comment

“Name the Game” by Monty Edwards is his 100th poem of the day since November 2015.

Congratulations and Thankyou for sharing your creativity with us.

 

My riddle is about a game, so see if you can guess its name.

Of course, I’ll give you many clues, but in the end, you’ll have to choose.

The game is played by day or night, but if at night you’ll need some light.

Play summer, winter, there’s no reason not to play in any season.

 

This game is played in many lands and players need to use their hands,

Although one hand would be enough, because this game’s not very rough.

It can’t be called a contact sport, and never needs a field or court.

So do not think you’ll use a ball, for that would not be right at all.

 

Out of doors or play inside – play wherever you decide.

Play in almost any place. This game doesn’t need much space. 

Players always move in turn and there are other rules to learn.

There is no need to use your feet; that’s not the way that you compete.

 

This game does not have any aces, nor any Jacks with funny faces,

But players each have king and queen, while cards are nowhere to be seen!

Most find it best to share a table, but please make sure your table’s stable!

This rule must never be ignored, since you’ll place pieces on a board.

 

But boards are used in many a game: can you give my game a name?

Now since this riddle’s almost done, I’ll give a clue – another one:

The pieces number thirty two. Sixteen of them will be for you.

Another player has the rest and you two play to see who’s best!

 

Your pieces form a fighting force, though blood is never shed, of course

And though a kind of war you play, no-one is injured in the fray, 

Since mostly you will think and plan, then make each move as best you can.

But win or lose or even draw, you’ll want to play this game some more.

 

It’s time for you to make your guess. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

This riddle’s answer must be . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . .  . . .  .

 

“Tornado Terror ” (Sound Poem) by Julian Schirripa and Lisa McKibben

Leave a comment

First, we hear on the horizon a low storm forming
– thunder rumble, roll and groan.

Lightning flashes inside fat storm clouds
– kssss, psssh, pppfffkkk, crack, sprack!

The wind starts whistling through the windows
– moaning oooooh oooooh OOOOOOH.

A wall of rain comes drumming, humming
– beating, tapping, pounding, lashing.

Tornado siren screams its warning
– wailing its deep screech of fear.

The twister yeets and hurls sharp objects
– hurtling, piercing, stabbing, wounding.

Missiles fire in all directions
– shooting, shelling, crashing, dashing.

Its funnel vacuums up the buildings
– whooshing, swooshing, sucking.

Playing with power lines like guitar strings
            – twanging, plucking, snapping.

The noise is deafening
– thrashing, battering, skreeeeeeking.

Like fingernails on blackboards scratching
– like scraping sounds of forks on plates.

And just as suddenly, it vanishes
– debris is settling in the brush.

An eeriness descends, is it over?
            – am I safe to go outside?

Huddled in the shelter listening
to the breathing and the pounding of our hearts.

The creak of the door as the shelter opens
– we witness silence, stillness, dread.

“Feet” (Quatrain Poems) by Robyn Youl

Leave a comment

Quatrain Poetry celebrates the number four. It is easy and fun to write. A Quatrain poem is a four-line poem that rhymes.

There are four ways to organise a Quatrain rhyming scheme.

  1. a/b/a/b/ rhyming scheme
  2. a/a/b/b/ rhyming scheme
  3. a/a/b/a/ rhyming scheme
  4. a/b/c/b/ rhyming scheme

Example 1. Using the information that cat feet are neat and round. They need less energy to lift during movement. They grip on rough terrain. They are paws for endurance, not short bursts of speed.

Cat Feet: Rhyming scheme: a/b/a/b/ Four lines

Not for speed, not for the race
Not for the swift or fleet
Steady the rhythm, steady the pace
Arched and round cat feet.

Example 2. Using the information that hare feet require more energy for locomotion, but are designed for speed. The two centre toes are longer than the outside toes and the toes arch less. Designed for running with short, high bursts of speed.

Hare Feet: Rhyming scheme: a/a/b/b/ Four lines

Two centre toes, long and strong
Grip the ground, speed me along
Race with me if you dare
Mine is the fleet foot of the hare.

Example 3. Using information that webbed feet are for swimming to retrieve birds or drag fishing nets ashore. The toes are connected by membrane similar to that of a frog to assist with locomotion in water. 

Webbed Feet: Rhyming Scheme: a/a/b/a/ Four lines.

Bred to swim, bred to achieve
Webbed feet through the water cleave
Downed birds and fishing nets I carry
My goal in life is to retrieve.

“A silent Anzac Day” (Shape Poem) by James Aitchison

Leave a comment

“Tornado Touchdown” (Shape Poem) by Julian Schirripa and Lisa McKibben

Leave a comment

“Can you guess?” (Riddle) by Marque Dubrow

Leave a comment

Can you guess of whom I speak?

He has no claws and he has no beak.

No fangs nor feathers nor fleece nor fur.

And he won’t get upset if you don’t call him sir.

 

Whilst not renowned for being a mobster,

He crushes and eats many a lobster.

You’d probably part with your hard earned dollar

If I told you his body can change its colour.

 

In the encyclopedia me finds

There are over fifty different kinds.

Though not much bigger than your fist,

Don’t cross him off your friendship list.

 

The smartest of all invertebrates,

I proudly class him as one of my mates.

His legs aren’t long, but they number eight.

I think this creature something great.

 

I tell you of the octopus,

Who lives his life with minimal fuss.

Should one of his legs be gone without trace,

Another one grows back in its place.

 

Why do I like the octopus so?

He’s resourceful and quiet and not too slow.

But I think it’s his kindness which sets him apart.

I guess I’d be the same if I had three hearts.