Category Archives: Poem of the Day

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Yellow Letters

 

When my grandad passed away

We found beneath the floor

A beat up, sturdy wooden box

We’d never seen before

 

The reason that we found it

Was a floor board out of place

It was sticking out and I tripped up

And landed on my face

 

I could tell it was important

And I removed it with great care

Grandad loved us all so much

What would he hide down there?

 

Mum looked surprised as I was

As she opened up the lid

Slowly then, her tears rolled down

As she found out what he hid

 

Her face had turned from flush to pale

As though she’d seen a ghost

So many yellowed envelopes

He never meant to post.

 

Mum said that Grandad never wrote

While serving in the war

And all these papers sitting here

She’d never seen before

 

We sat and read together

Sharing tears and love as well

My grandad never wrote of war

As it was nothing short of hell

 

He couldn’t say the words out loud

But these letters had ensured

That maybe one day later

We would know what he’d endured

 

We placed them back into the box

And closed the lid up tight

I felt my grandad was at peace

When I fell asleep that night

 

For though he never posted them

Those letters got him through

For the final one said ‘War is done!

I’m coming home to you’

Sioban Timmer
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #12

Sioban said: I just recently received copies of my Grandad’s war medals and have a special box to place them in, I think that put the idea to the front of my mind.

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

THE ECHIDNA

An echidna passed across a track

heading towards a special snack.

 

A naturalist muttered, ‘What a turn!

about this creature, I’ve got to learn.’

 

He kneeled to take a closer look

the echidna swung with strong right hook.

 

And it was such a heavy clout

it nearly knocked the watcher out.

 

The echidna curled into a prickly ball

snarling, ‘I don’t like you at all.’

 

The naturalist cried and mused upon

what it was that he’d done wrong.

 

He only wanted to see first hand

the weirdest creature in the land.

 

The echidna uncurled and stalked away

grumbling at his ruined day.

 

And idiots too dumb to know

you always let echidnas go –

 

About their business digging holes

and eating ants from salad bowls.

 

Or snuffling around a great big mound

Where tasty termites are always found.

 

To spare echnida watchers’ pain,

the moral of this tale is plain.

 

Always remember it’s very rude

to keep echidnas from their food.

 

Margaret Pearce

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Blueberry Pancakes and Parachutes

Silvery streaks of morning-time rain

puddling into the mud

reminds me of blueberry pancakes

and circular see-through parachutes.

 

Raindrops aren’t teardrops.

There’s no pointy tip.

Those free-falling globules

are blueberry round.

 

But if they meet-up

as they fall through the sky

a middle-sized raindrop

as-flat-as-a-pancake

might suddenly start to appear.

 

Bigger and larger and bulkier still

fast-falling raindrops

past pancake proportions

with stretch in the centre

and drag through the air.

 

For less than a second

becoming a dome

these small glassy parachutes

wobble then burst

to break into

blueberry droplets again.

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

Celia said: I was delighted to learn that raindrops make all these weird shapes as they fall to the ground.  This year I hope to receive Your Poems about the wonders of water for the Science Rhymes website.

http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2009/07/how-raindrop-exploding-parachute

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

How Trees Grow

 

First, they listen to the wind’s ideas

and take notes.

They suck nutriment from the soil

but never forget their manners.

They bathe regularly in rain

and soak their feet in special solutions.

Measuring distances from star to star

they dream of universal travels.

Also, they touch each other kindly

and play host to thousands of guests.

 

Jennie Fraine

Jenny said: This poem was published in 1993 in a booklet I prepared and printed myself, to share with children as I spoke to them in schools about the mystery and magic, the pure possibility, of poetry. The poems had originally been written for other children, in response to their requests for a poem on a topic they liked. I had created a business called Poetic Licence and apart from lots of work in schools (via three agents) I also worked at festivals as a roving performer (writing on the spot about anything suggested by those I accosted) at literacy camps, on tour along the Murray River, in country towns and suburbs in Victoria, at writers festivals for children, at Georges and David Jones for special occasions, and at private celebrations, and at schools and the fringe festival in the Kimberleys.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Imagination

 

In the land of dreams,

All is not what it seems.

For no world is perfect.

You see, not even in the most beautiful imaginary places.

 

Lurking in the dark are sharks.

Ready to invade the place of great beauty,

To steal some of that sunshine away.

You see, sharks are drawn to beautiful imaginary places.

 

Best to turn on the light,

And cast the shadows aside.

Let the beauty sparkle in a golden glow.

You see, even the shadows are in beautiful imaginary places.

 

Let the sun shine and sparkle,

Casting all the dark shadows aside.

Then the stunning beauty can shimmer in all its glory.

You see, goodness and happiness are found in beautiful imaginary places.

 

When you allow them to glow.

 

Karen Hendriks

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #10

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

White Mice

 

White mice sniff the air

Each time I spread fresh shavings

On their bedroom floor.

 

They climb the ladder,

Build a nest of woody curls,

And squeak with delight.

 

Blind, pink and naked

Newborns smell and propel to

Mother Mouse’s milk.

 

Older babies hide,

But I see their beady eyes,

Peering from safety.

 

Going unnoticed

From my cubby-house window,

I also look out

 

And note the bustle

Of backyard creatures; thankful

For my quiet space.

 

Lyn Oxley

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

 

 

Lyn said: I incorporated Haiku style (5/7/5 syllables) into this poem to lengthen it, but kept the traditional appreciation for nature from a child’s point of view. Alliteration adds interest.

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Muddled Monotreme

 

I poked a purple platypus

So playfully I prodded

It peered out of a pumpkin patch

it winked at me and nodded

The platypus was at a loss

no reason was there known

why he was in a pumpkin patch

and not his river home

I gently pushed him in a box

this muddled monotreme

and set him free to swim again

down at our local stream

 

© Allan Cropper
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

poetry-prompt-9

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

The Three Bears Retold

 

There once was a family named Bear

Who thought they had nothing to wear.

While eating their oats

They remembered their coats

And decided to go to the fair.

 

The number of Bears you would see

Was just a small family of three.

There was Mother and Dad

With a baby they had

And they lived in a house by a tree.

 

They went to the fair to have fun,

But their time there had hardly begun

When they each said: “I’m hot!”

For it seems they forgot

That their fur coats held heat in the sun.

 

“We’d better go home,” they all said.

“Let’s finish our porridge instead.”

(If only they knew

A young girl was there too,

Who was sleeping in Baby Bear’s bed!)

 

As soon as they opened the door,

They saw that their bowls had held more.

Some porridge not there!

One broken small chair!

But a bigger surprise was in store.

 

For then the whole family Bear

Were wanting to search everywhere.

When they saw Baby’s bed

Held a young girl instead

They growled: “That is really unfair!”

 

Their guest got straight up with a shock.

(The Bears had neglected to knock).

She ran out the door

And they saw her no more

While the Bears quickly fitted a lock!

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry prompt #1

poetry-prompt-52

Monty says: I decided I’d like to try to retell, in verse, a condensed and slightly embellished version of a story about a family many children would know well.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

THE BEACH HOLIDAY

 

The first time I saw surf,

Green and high and fringed with white.

A remorseless elemental, rolling

Forever into clean washed sands.

 

The delights of rock pools and ponies,

Of sand dunes and fishing,

Exploring the limitless space

and the boundless time of holiday.

 

The first time to catch a fish,

The first time to clean it

And the different taste when

Immediately fried golden brown.

 

The pale pale bowl of sky;

Where the days were so long

The sun paused and lingered

For untimed hours of dreaming.

 

And every pink dawn witnessed,

The low sleeping sandbanks rise

Out of the untroubled wash of the sea

And the seagulls shrieking challenge.

 

A brand new world to explore,

A precious gift, concrete and real,

New washed and promising

Every single morning.

 

My memories caught in an escape of flight.

Returned to a childhood of sheer delight.

 

© Margaret Pearce
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

poetry-prompt-7

Margaret said: No bottle in this poem, but the illustration brings up the feeling.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Message in a Bottle

 

A little bit of litter

loitered there upon the sand.

A green and glassy bottle

with no label showing brand.

I wonder if it floated here

from some far distant land,

with a message at its core for me to read,

sent by a sailor stranded and in need.

 

A little weathered letter

written by the sailor’s hand,

send here across the seven seas

on waves the wind had fanned.

Is this the destination

that the messenger had planned?

Alas, I find the note has since been freed,

and now the bottle’s stranded too, indeed.

Allan Cropper
  • In response to Poetry Prompt #7

poetry-prompt-7