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Today’s poem placed third in the 13th Kathleen Julia Bates Memorial Writing Competition.

Refugee Girl In the Playground

Watching you

I see a pale string

drifting       out the door

stretching back

to where your parents died

in a faraway war.

 

In class you hold books

as if they were gold

squeal with delight

when the computer comes on

and now you smile

clap your hands

your voice tap-dances with English

making it hum

in mysterious ways.

You eat your lunch slowly

every bite precious

eyes scanning faces

looking for a smile

a spark of welcome

making the day

learning so much

teaching too.

Duncan Richardson

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Today’s poem was runner up in the 13th Kathleen Julia Bates Memorial Writing Competition.

Looking at the Moon through Binoculars

 

Perfectly round

the moon comes into focus,

luminous, haloed,

almost close enough to touch.

In this lunar landscape

there are mountains, craters

highlands and valleys,

the Sea of Tranquility,

the Ocean of Storms.

Three days’ journey

catapulted through

the blackness of space

past comets, stars

and satellites to reach

my destination.

I’d land on the bright side

of the moon,

my boots sinking into

silvery dust, soft like snow,

I’d jump over moon rocks,

check for signs of life,

then I’d turn to face the earth,

blue and green and beautiful

and I would wave.

Vanessa Proctor

Poem of the Day

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Today’s poem was the winner of the 13th Kathleen Julia Bates Memorial Writing Competition.
ROAR

 

I stood at the glass barrier,

looking in.

One lion, facing away,

gnawed at a raw bone in the grass;

one lion stood

on the prow of the hill,

looking out.

 

This one was not cowed –

his maw opened

and his roar filled my ears

with a storm over sea,

with the wind on the plains,

with a rolling thunder

deep and wise and proud.

 

I shivered at the sound,

and I wondered

which of us

was the prisoner.

 Jaz Stutley

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Only One Moon

I really think Earth needs another Moon.

It isn’t fair that we should have just one.

Only one to grace our heaven –

Jupiter has sixty seven.

Wouldn’t sixty seven moons be fun?

 

It isn’t fair Earth only has one Moon.

Even little Mars has got a couple.

If we followed them in flight,

Tracked their paths throughout the night,

Our necks would stay extremely loose and supple.

 

And why is Earth’s moon simply called “The Moon”?

I ask you, could it ever be more flat?

Saturn’s blessed with mighty Titan,

Neptune’s orbited by Triton.

Then there’s Ganymede. How cool is that?

 

I’m sure that NASA’d like a second moon –

Another astro-challenge to be won.

When the news screamed “Man on Moon!”,

Before we fell into a swoon,

We’d pop the question quickly: “Right. Which one?”

 

Stephen Whiteside

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Space Traveler

 

I plan to build a spaceship soon and travel to the stars.

My Dad says: “Land first on the moon, then buy more fuel on Mars.”

But will the Martians sell me fuel if I’ve no shopper docket?

I’ll ask my mum to give me one and keep it in my pocket.

 

At school we learned the nearest star is still quite far away.

This means the food I’ll need to pack must last more than one day.

So I should fit a cupboard in where food can all be stored

And for my rest, it’s surely best, to put a bed on board.

 

My spaceship must have windows where I’ll watch the stars at night.

For sleeping, I’ll make shutters to keep out their dazzling light.

Since stars will be much closer as I travel out in space

There’d hardly be much sleeping with them shining in my face!

 

I’ve worked it out. Without a doubt, my spaceship will be large.

I ought to contact Fuel Watch too, to learn what Martians charge.

I think perhaps I need more time. There’s so much I must do,

But once my spaceship’s ready, then I’ll say goodbye to you.

 

Or would you like to help me build and join me for the ride?

You needn’t  answer straight away, there’s still time to decide,

But if you plan to come along, you too need food and bed.

So let’s  just ask our mums to take us to the zoo instead.

 

Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #35Poetry Prompt #35

Monty says:  Space travel seems to fascinate many children and stimulate their imagination, long before they have any realistic concept of what it might involve.

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On a shady pathway

In the park

I met a duck

Halfway up.

He waddled left,

He waddled right,

That duck on the steps

Was quite a sight.

I asked him, “What are you doing here?”

He said, “Practising my waddle, dear.”

We sat and chatted for a time

Then off he went

To continue his climb.

When he reached the top

He flapped his wings

And turned back to me

With a cheeky duck grin.

Jeanie Axton

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #38

poetry-prompt-38

 

 

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Tongue Torture

 

If you like to eat cold meat and consider that a treat,

Have you ever thought of adding chilli sauce?

Use a little, not a lot, since this sauce is rather hot

And you wouldn’t want to singe your tongue, of course.

 

Don’t be led astray by greed and take more than you will need.

If you do, I can assure you, you’ll regret it.

Though your tongue may twist and turn, your whole mouth will seem to burn

And I doubt you’ll soon be able to forget it!

 

Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

poetry prompt #32

Monty says: The pickle prompt got me thinking about other sauces and relishes which adults enjoy, but children’s palates may not be prepared for.

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Clowning Around

 

A clown with a cauliflower ear

Decided that he would appear

In a colander hat

With a cute climbing cat.

But the cat said

‘Not likely my dear.’

Pat Simmons
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #36

Poetry Prompt #36

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Cumin to my kitchen

is a warming winter soup

starring cauliflower of course

the biggest top in town.

Collected in my colander

Is my tender little troupe

but as I rinse them in a rivulet

something wriggles then rolls down

he has practiced this performance

to avoid birds and their beaks

he seems suited to a circus

he’s  like a caterpillar clown

Walter de Jong
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #36

Poetry Prompt #36

Poem of the Day

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The night sky

fills with the shrieks

of flying foxes,

street lights

cast strange shadows

and the last ferry

blinks across the harbour,

the tide lap-lapping

the foreshore,

as the city stretches,

then curls in

upon itself.

Vanessa Proctor

 

Through the Looking Glass

Volume V Issue I, March 2016