Category Archives: Poem of the Day

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Prompt4

Poetry Prompt #4 inspired Helen Hagemann to submit this selection of poems. Helen says: I have three grand-children under seven years of age (both parents work) and therefore I notice things like towels left on the floor! Also I like subjects that might possibly appeal to children.

The Subject Tonight is Towel

The subject tonight is towel

And from tomorrow night

And days after

Dad has no better topic

For us to discuss

Until we all

Hang up our towel

After showering.

 

Walls

 

Some people love walls.

They keep in yelping dogs,

But never cats or birds.

No one sees them talking at night

Yet walls do talk – to each other.

They compare positions, compositions.

Are they stone, cement or brick?

When they need our attention

They crumble for repair.

In winter a storm will blow them over.

Make gaps for geckos and hens.

Can you see the creatures scurrying

Passing two abreast?

Robert Frost loved walls, and said

They make good neighbours

Especially if they talked,

Had one’s garden trimmed,

Kept apple trees to one side

Pine cones to the other.

 

Do you love walls?

 

 

Leaves

 

There are

So many leaves

 

Each hangs on a branch

In thousands of different ways

Your eyes will see differences

 

Infinite shapes: ovoid, needle

Heart-shaped, linear or pencil

You can draw them green in spring

Paint the tree from where they came

Crinkle a gum leaf for its scent

 

So many leaves

Unfolding and falling

Into your world

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Am I a poet?

by Jenny Erlanger

 

Today we had to write a poem

and so I took the time

to think of all the words I could

that sound as if they rhyme.

The teacher said, “Don’t worry

finding special words to fit,”

then read us out a funny poem

that didn’t rhyme a bit.

So then I worked at trying to rid

the rhyming from my head,

to concentrate on verse

that didn’t rhyme at all instead.

At first I didn’t have a hope,

the rhymes kept coming back

but I tried really hard

and wrote the poem

you’re reading now,

but somehow

it just doesn’t

sound right.

  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

Prompt5

 

Jenny says: Writing rhyming poetry has played such a big part of my life since childhood, that despite my own efforts to break out of the mold at times, I keep returning to it as a means of self-expression.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

A Dotty Conversation

by Melanie Hill

 

I’m a dot.

No you’re not!

Yes I am.

Well, prove it.

I have curves.

You’ve got a nerve.

No I don’t.

Well, prove it.

See my shape.

Like a crepe?

That’s not round.

Yes it is.

Well, what are you?

I’m a spot.

No you’re not…

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

Poetry Prompt#9

Melanie says: The dots (or spots) reminded my of my children and how they are so similar but different. They also argue about everything and nothing, just like the dots (or spots).

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

M.Y.D.B.

Kate O’Neil

 

I hate it when it happens

and I bet you hate it too.

You’re just walking on the footpath

and there’s dog-poo on your shoe.

 

And your friends say ’Phew!

I don’t want to sit with you

‘cause you just trod in dog-poo

and there’s dog-poo on your shoe.”

 

I know the dogs can’t help it.

Dogs just do what dogs just do.

But, owners, when you walk your dogs,

please collect the poo.

 

  • Author comment: “M.Y.D.B.” is to be ‘published’ as a laminated sign on the grassy footpath near a Bush-care site I work on. For obvious reasons.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

My Secret Place

by Monty Edwards

 

Where can I find a secret space:

A place that’s just for me,

Where I can go and no one know,

Or looking, fail to see?

 

There none will tell me what to do,

Nor doubt that what I say is true.

Captain I’ll be – without a crew,

There in my secret place!

 

Joys that I have, who then, will share?

Who’ll cheer me up, when life’s not fair?

Who, when I’m hurt, will quickly care,

There in my secret place?

 

Here’s my new plan for what to do:

Search for a secret space for two!

No secret place that’s just for one

Can have all I want to make it fun.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #1Poetryprompt1

Author comment: Although time hidden away in private can be a welcome relief from people or situations, it has its drawbacks. I want readers young and old to recognise that we all need other people to truly enrich our lives and then take the initiative by being a friend to someone else.

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Ho Kookaburra

by Katherine Gallagher

 

Ho Kookaburra

can’t sing a note –

 

all of his songs

get caught in his throat.

 

Ho Ho Ho Ho Ha Ha Ha,

it sounds easy but it’s not

 

as he scrapes and cackles, saws away,

it’s the only song he’s got.

 

It’s enough to make you laugh –

that’s the one thing he can do…

 

Try to copy him – Ho Ho Ho Ho

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ho Ho Ho Ho

 

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ho Ho Ho

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

Prompt5

Katherine says: This is a fun poem when done in class as everyone joins in.

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

So Many Words

by Pat Simmons

 

In my head

Words are running around

Pushing and shoving

Trying to get out

Use me first

No, use me first.

 

That’s

Enough

I

Say

Please

Form

A

Nice

Orderly

Queue

Thank

You

Very

Much

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

Prompt7

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Colours of Courage

by Monty Edwards

 

When I see both red and white,

I think about a fabled fight

That took place long ago.

A soldier brave rode out to save

A maiden from a dragon’s cave.

That dragon was his foe!

 

With lance aloft and poised to pierce,

George rode toward that dragon fierce

And struck a lethal blow.

Then all at once its fiery breath,

Extinguished by its sudden death

Was scarcely seen to glow!

 

The horse, once white, was quite a sight

With blood-red smears gained in the fight:

A most courageous steed!

Without his horse, St George, of course,

Would hardly be a fighting force

And likely, first to bleed!

 

In fighting flame, George made his name.

When vict’ry came, he gained great fame.

“The man’s a saint!” folk cried.

Now freed from fear and full of cheer,

They praised St George one day each year,

Long after he had died.

 

The story grew as stories do.

I fear that few may think it true.

I leave the verdict up to you.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

Poetry Prompt#9

Author Comment: Lacking inspiration, I began to focus on the colours in the prompt, rather than the shapes. I grew up in the St George district of Sydney, my sisters attended St George Girls’ High School, while I followed and participated in St George sporting teams, all featuring red and white in combination. It was time to research the legend and begin to acquaint a new generation with it.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Bird Registration

by Lynelle Kendall

 

I’m standing in queue,

With you, you and you,

Feathered comrades all waiting to pay.

At the front sits an owl,

With a permanent scowl,

Give me patience! I’ve been here all day.

 

I’ve forms in my pinions,

And formed an opinion,

That registrations take too long.

At last it’s my turn,

With the owl looking stern,

Asking questions about right and wrong.

 

His queries abated.

How long I had waited!

Then he handed me paper and quill.

I loudly protested,

At the figure suggested,

So large was the size of my bill!

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

Prompt7

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment
Beach
by Dianne Bates

A grain of sand on its own,

A tiny world

in the palm of your hand.

But still, nothing much…

Add millions of other grains,

Shape them with sea-water

And you’ve got a sand-castle.

Next add trillions and trillions of grains                                                                                                                        Getting there…

And zillions and zillions more —

Now you’re talking!

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #8

Prompt8

 

 

 

Dianne says: I brainstormed for a long time listing all the close encounters a child
might have — animals, insects, aliens and so on. Finished up on a beach
with a child looking at starfish. It was only when I thought of sand,
zillions of grains in close encounter with one another, that I thought of
what happens as a result. Hence this beach poem!