Category Archives: Poem of the Day

Poem of the Day

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I HATE BOOKS

My teacher says I have to

read

Books!  I hate them.

They’re boring. They are

not as exciting as thinking about

what you’d do if you were caught

in a storm, on a boat

In the middle of the bay,

with your dad injured,

and you’ve had to sail by yourself

and your mum’s worried sick

about where you both might be

when the police launch arrives

and has to winch you across

cas the water’s so rough

that you vomit all over the

rescuer, who tells you not to

apologise.

No, books are not as exciting as

seeing your mum waiting on the shore

crying,

when she finds you’re both ok.

 

Actually, you know what?

I reckon I could write a book about that.

I’d read it, wouldn’t you?

 Alix Phelan

Poem of the Day

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Night magic

 

At night if feel anxious and my heart begins to race,

if all I want to do is weep or yell

I look outside my bedroom at that diamond-studded space,

and wait for it to cast its magic spell.

 

I feel the tension easing, all the pressure start to lift

and let my thinking go without a fight.

A magnet way above me sets my frazzled mind adrift

and draws it gently up into the night.

 

In weightless bliss I flitter with the wings of fantasy

past planets, moons and stars that no one knows.

In breathless awe I float within my private galaxy.

I’m free at last from all those earthly woes.

 

My mind is now uncluttered and as peaceful as can be.

It’s lost, for now, that pressing sense of gloom.

Before I even know it, it has floated back to me

from somewhere worlds and worlds beyond my room.

 

The magic moment passes and I’m really glad to say

I feel a little fluttering of hope.

Although I know my problems haven’t really gone away

I thank the sky for helping me to cope.

 

Jenny Erlanger
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Poetry Prompt 22

Poem of the Day

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The Visitor

 

A witch flew through my window! I saw her on her broom.

One starry night, down moonbeams bright, she rode into my room!

I cried out to my mother. “A witch came in!” I screamed.

She softly said: “No, no, my dear, believe you me, there’s no witch here.

It’s just something you dreamed.”

 

I wanted to believe her. I’d had a nasty fright.

I said: “Please lock the window, Mum, or I won’t sleep tonight.”

Once Mum had turned the window key she tucked me back in bed.

“No need for you to worry then, no witch can frighten you again,”

My mother calmly said.

 

When Mum had left and dimmed the lights, I tried to close my eyes,

But found I still felt wide awake, though that was no surprise.

Quite suddenly I heard a noise!  A scratching mouse or rat?

Then, while I lay there quiet and still – a dark shape on the window sill!

The witch’s jet black cat!

 

Monty Edwards

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Poetry Prompt 22

Monty says: The black cat, moon and starry night turned my thoughts to witches and their significance for children. The open window provided a point of entry for the narrative and the focus then became developing a suitable rhyming scheme to carry the narrative to its conclusion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Vicious Circle

It came without a warning

just before the dawning;

we found ourselves surrounded,

hunted down and hounded,

by a vile and vicious circle

with malevolent designs.

 

We were mystified and curious.

Why was this shape so furious?

and though we were confounded

we knew that we were grounded,

trapped by a selfish circle

in its πr 2 confines.

 

This painful circumscription

was dire beyond description.

It was injury compounded

with insolence unbounded.

We had to teach this circle

the harshness of its crimes.

 

We explained that such division

was a mean and cruel decision

and keeping us impounded

was evil and unfounded.

The ideal perfect circle

has no real borderlines.

Kate O’Neil

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

Prompt3

Poem of the Day

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Night

 

I tiptoed to the window –

suddenly I could see

the stars come marching,

blinking at me.

 

When I woke next morning

they had gone away,

and the dark had unwrapped

a brand new day.

(From Somewhere in the Sky, Nelson Blackie,1996)

Katherine Gallagher

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Poetry Prompt 22

Katherine says: When I saw your cat, moon and window full of stars for Poetry Prompt #22, I was reminded of my poem ‘Night’ and watching the stars make their slow entrance, then exit.

Poem of the Day

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Tonight I Will Not Close My Eyes

 

We have monsters in our house.

 

A man came today to spray them away.

I’m sure I heard the monsters laugh.

 

Right now they are feasting on walls and doors.

They’re gnawing and boring under the floors.

 

I am ten and in bed and they’re in my head.

 

Nibbling and wriggling,

ever closer to me.

 

We won’t ever leave while there’s still more to chew.

We’ll eat all the wood and then eat you!

 

Dianne Bates

Poetry Prompt 22Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22.

Dianne says: When I was a child living in the country, our home was demolished around as we continued to live in it. This is because the house was full of white-ants. I used to lie in bed thinking that the ants would eat me during
the night if I went to sleep. I was probably about 12 at the time. This poem
reflects my anxiety back then

Poem of the Day

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My  Border Collie’s Folly

 

We have a Border Collie,

he’s a lovely little chap,

his fur is black and fluffy

and he loves to get a pat,

but he never sees the folly

of annoying the neighbour’s cat.

 

He wags his tail with pleasure

when he sees her on the fence,

then leaps beyond all measure,

making Pussy go quite tense,

but he never sees his folly

he hasn’t got much sense!

 

Puss’s  fur extends like arrows,

she hisses and she spits,

but Collie’s eyes just narrow

he imagines her in bits,

but never sees the folly,

of getting her off the fence!

 

The fence is now vibrating

Pussy hangs on like grim death,

Collie’s loudly barking,

I wish he’d take a rest,

 

but suddenly there’s silence

Pussy’s leapt away,

so Collie’s little folly

must wait for another day.

 

Alix Phelan

Poem of the Day

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Kazakhstan

I think about kids in Kazakhstan

Siberia, Finland, Tajikistan

Of things that I can see and do

Things that those kids never can.

 

Cranking, crashing, curling, waves

Green and glassy gurgling waves

Pounding and pumping

Thumping and dumping

Hammering and hissing hollow caves

 

A monstrous rising swell

Throws barrels straight from hell

To bounce and duck and race

Screaming down the face

To win and ring that bell

 

And when the sea breeze dies

Surfers one by one

Raise their heads and shade their eyes

To watch a golden stairway climb

Up to the setting sun

 

But then I think of a different fate

To see a sparkling crystal tree

To slip and slide and glide and skate

Over an icy moonlit lake

Think how awesome that would be

Joanne Pummer

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Rubik Remembered

 

Once a clever man named Rubik

Made a puzzle that was cubic.

Lots of people went to buy it.

Some just couldn’t wait to try it.

 

All six faces, full of colour,

Made the other toys look duller!

Red and yellow, blue and green,

Orange, white, could all be seen.

 

Every face’s shape was square.

Cubes are like that everywhere.

Length and width and height the same:

Like the dice used in a game.

 

Nine small squares on every face

In each large square had a place.

These could twist in groups of threes

To a different face with ease.

 

Here is what you had to do:

Make one face completely blue,

Or perhaps choose green or red,

Orange, yellow, white, instead.

 

Then the rest, till one by one,

Every single colour done!

Few could do it. Most could not.

I was in that second lot.

 

Monty Edwards

Poetryprompt#21

Monty says: The brightly coloured boxes in prompt 21 reminded me of Rubik’s puzzle, but the content is a better fit with “Shapes” from prompt 3. Prompt3

Poem of the Day

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Cats – ALWAYS – Sit Up Front!

 

My night sky cat by the window sat

Black coat reflected the moon

His tail swung side to side, as I watched him wide eyed

And stated ‘You belong on the back of a broom!’

 

My night sky cat then turned and spat

And stood tall upon the ledge

For the worst kind of curse, is a cat that is nervous

And my comment had put him on edge

 

My night sky cat resettled and sat

With a satisfied look and a twitch

How dare I assume, that by moon on a broom

He would take the BACKSEAT for a witch!

 

Sioban Timmer
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Poetry Prompt 22

Sioban says: This prompt made me think of magic – how can a black cat and a night sky not make you think of magic?

I tried to mix up the rhythm a little bit to make the poem more interesting and get a more challenging rhyme!