Poem of the Day

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Behind the scenes

by Jenny Erlanger

 

We cannot see or hear them,

yet we know when each arrives.

We love them, hate or fear them

as we stumble through our lives.

 

They fire away like crazy

somewhere deep inside our brain.

They prod us when we’re lazy,

get us back on track again.

 

They don’t ask for permission

from the moment that we wake

to set out on their mission

to control the moves we make.

 

It may not live an hour

as its life is pretty short

but there’s no denying the power

of a solitary thought.

 

  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #6

Poetry Prompt 6

Jenny says: I have always been fascinated by the capacity of a seemingly immaterial thought to create physical or emotional responses in human beings.

Poem of the Day

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Queue

by Sally Odgers

 

Kudos to the queue – not cue

(for that’s a hint or hit for billiard ball)

Kudos to the queue – not coupe

(for that’s a shock surprise for city hall)

Kudos to the queue – not coo

(for that’s what doves and grannies tend to do)

Kudos to the queue – not Que

(For that’s a Tassie river … yes, it’s true!)

Kudos to the queue – you knew

This had to end and now the end is due

But kudos to the queue – a row

Of sailor’s hair or pelicans you know.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

Prompt7

 

Poem of the Day

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A Reason to Rhyme

by Monty Edwards

 

Must our poems rhyme

ALL the time?

No. Not so.

Don’t you know

Some verse is free

Like a fish in the sea?

But personally, I prefer my fish

Served on a regular dish

(With chips).

  • Prompt5 Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

 

Author Comment: The poem is something of a joke at my own expense, since I find it difficult to break the rhyming habit, but sometimes the ideas in a poem refuse to yield to the constraints of rhyme. This is admitted by the final line of the poem.

Poems of the Day

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These three short poems were submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5.

Prompt5

A Spider’s Dilemma

by Pat Simmons

An arthritic arachnid with eight knobbly knees

Sought medical help for her painful disease.

 

Her doctor prescribed her with cream to rub in

But the problem was how and just where to begin!

 

 Pillow Pet

By Nadine Cranenburgh

My old dog Spot
is hard to spot
when hiding in my bed

He’s found a spot
all soft and hot
curled underneath my head

{Nadine says: The aim was to include a word that has multiple meanings.}

Greedy Guts

by Dianne Bates

Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
Eating his Christmas pie

He ate it all, every crumb.
‘What’s for seconds?’
he asked his mum.

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Trying Times

by Pat Simmons

 

Please tidy your room Tim,

I’ve asked you ten times.

Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow

I’m solving some crimes?

 

I’m tired of asking,

Now do as I say.

Two seconds Mum, promise,

I’m still on e-bay.

 

That’s it Tim, I’ve had it,

I’m coming to look!

Give me a minute Mum

I’m on Facebook.

 

I’m tired of texting you,

Open this door.

Now I’m doing my homework

Mum, don’t be a bore.

 

I’m coming in Timmy,

I’ve had quite enough.

I’m opening the door Tim,

I’m tired of your guff.

 

Good grief, your room’s tidy.

And Tim, you’re not here.

No I’m texting from Tom’s place.

Ha ha mother dear!

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

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Driftwood

By Sioban Timmer

 

He walks the beach

Collecting driftwood

Calm carries on the sea air,

Hunks of timber now distressed.

Turned by the lathing waves of the salted expanse

 

How enduring they are,

So far from their green beginnings

He inhales and smiles

As the breath escapes he muses

I guess we have a lot in common

 

He will take them in

Find new life in their random forms

They are a seaside distraction

A salty breeze on city days in his urban garden

Serenity obtained in a memory of beachcombing

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Prompt4Sioban says: I like how this poem has a sense of textures – wood, sand, water and the effect that they have on each other.

A Good Square Meal by Kate O’Neil

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Animal Feed Available at Restaurant
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Please note our special of the day:
(eat it here – or take-away)

Rye-grass  pellets dipped in swill
lightly fried or from the grill

Perhaps your choice is a la carte:
hay or lucerne, pie or tart.

Bonemeal biscuits served with slops
(fewer calories than chops)

Seasonal silage steamed or fried
sautéed birdseed on the side.

And should you feel inclined to quaff
please place your order at the trough

 

Poem of the Day

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Sadness

By Patrick Dower

 

In between the happy times, I sometimes have sad days.

My tear ducts sweat and my stomach turns. My silver lining fades to grey.

 

My sister – she throws tantrums. My brother – he slams doors.

The one time I saw Mummy cry, she slinked slowly to the floor.

 

There are some solemn days when people are sad with you.

Like when I lost my grandma, my grandpa lost her too.

 

I’m sure the house gets lonely when we’re all asleep.

And on some nights, when the scene’s just right, the neighbour’s puppy weeps.

 

I know my Dad gets sad sometimes. In fact, he’s sad a lot.

But no matter how glum he seems to be, Daddy says he’s not.

 

Sometimes he’s blue but peaceful. Some days he’s mad and red.

On other days he’s so far down he can’t get out of bed.

 

But I know he’ll get better. Mum thinks he will too.

She tells me, “Love, he’ll make it out as long as he has you”.

 

Soon he will be happy, but, until that time,

I’ll just be glad that his imperfect life is one with mine.

 

Sadness finds us, day or night, to remind us all to give.

It lets us know that our happy lives are better shared than lived.

 

Patrick says: I used this as the stimulus for a Social and Emotional Learning discussion with my Year 5s late last year. It was inspired by several conversations I have had with students about mental health – particularly the differences and similarities between emotions and illness.

 

Red and Black by Debra Tidball

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Poem of the Day

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Words

by Dianne Bates

Some have shaky edges
Twisting and flapping like netted fish
And the tongue is tied.

Sometimes the mouth opens and closes
like a trap.

But the best words —
The easiest words —
are bridges:

‘Be my friend,’
‘Come and play.’

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

Prompt3

Dianne says: To get to this poem, I brain-stormed a variety of shapes (geometric shapes, the shape of thoughts and so on) until I arrived at words. In the end I didn’t even use the word ‘shape’; it simply acted as a starting point.