Poetry Prompt #43 Dedication Poem


This week’s prompt which may grow wings and go for a fortnight is “A Dedication Poem”

This can be any poem you have written or a new one you are writing and you have a person or animal in mind when you wrote/write the poem.

You can write who the dedication is for and sent a photo if you want or keep that part private.

Looking forward to your contributions.

Please send to: poemoftheday.jaxton@gmail.com


And this weeks quote:

William Wordsworth was an English romantic poet


Warm and Fluffy

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Warm And Fluffy


The animals have hairy fur.

The birds have got their feathers.

These keep their bodies warm enough

throughout the chilly weather.


The fibres in those fluffy coats

criss-cross to form some air-holes

that can’t escape or waft away

because of all the hair-folds.


Their skin gives off some body-warmth.

Just like a radiator.

Their fluffy coats help keep that heat

as thermal insulators.


The warm air’s trapped inside the fur

to shield them from the outside.

The way that blankets on a bed

are cosy on the inside.


But if that fluffy coat gets wet

those air-holes fill with water.

Their body’s warmth escapes as that

wet coat’s a heat conductor.


The soggy fur clings to their skin.

No longer insulated.

And water makes their body cold

as it’s evaporated.


Any fluffy animal will

shake that water well away.

So if your puppy’s had a swim …

Watch-out for all that water spray!



When it comes to having a fluffy coat, it’s a good idea to shaking off any water, so as not to get cold.  Dogs are the best shakers!  I love the sound of their lips and soggy ears slapping their head as they do it.


by Celia Berrell

Poetry Prompt #41 continued Fur, Feathers and Fins


This week due to an incredible response we will continue for one more week.

“Fur, Feathers and Fins”

These three words are stretching into three great weeks. On 25th of October we had 998 views to this site. Please keep emailing people the link to get the word out there.

This weeks quote to ponder on:

Maya Angelou (1928-2014) was a poet and civil rights activist who wrote seven autobiographies



Poetry Prompt #38


Poetry Prompt #38

Good Evening All,

My name is Jeanie and I’m the new admin for this site. I will do a get to know me post in the near future. I’m looking forward to meeting you all online via your contributions. Any ideas on how to further promote the blog send me an email. Thankyou.

Poetry Prompt #38
This week’s prompt is “Sports”
It’s that time of the year again where there are significant finals in many sports.
In many country towns Footy finals were held on the weekend as well as State finals. Next weekend sees the AFL grand final in Melbourne as well as the NRL final in Sydney.
This topic is huge if we think about our own childhood experiences, teams we follow and sports celebrities in Australia as well as the extensive variety of sports representing many cultures.
Looking forward to your contributions.
Please send to: poemoftheday.jaxton@gmail.com

Here’s a quote to ponder on this week:



Shannon Hale is an American author of young adult fantasy.


Rippling Gravity

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Rippling Gravity



A tranquil pond that’s glassy smooth

has surface tensioned skin un-grooved.

No creases spoil its surface layer

when peace and stillness fill the air.


Then one disturbance, pebble’s plop

an insect’s hop or stray raindrop,

creates a pattern we’ve just traced

to forces found in outer space.


Rippled wrinkles, round ornate

make circled waves that radiate

while rising, falling with the force

of gravity, which holds their course.


Space-time’s fabric will behave

in similar ways through gravity waves.

This rippled force from far beyond

makes patterns like our little pond.



by Celia Berrell

Contemplating the topic Secret Spaces makes me think of my own wrinkles!  Oh and ripples in fabric, water and space.  What could be hiding within those folds?  Scientists confirm there are such things as GRAVITY WAVES. These spaces were so secret they went un-detected until only recently.

I Wish


I Wish…


Oh goose you fly so very high,

I wish that I could too.

Up up, up up, into the sky,

There’s nothing I can do.


I stand here wishing I’d grow wings,

I never hope for other things.

I dream at night that I’ve gained height,

And the earth is almost out of sight.


But here I am, stuck on the ground,

Never to be seen or found,

Up there with you oh goose,

For I am just a humble moose.


Oh moose as I look down below,

I notice you especially.

You graze the grass, you sip the lake,

You wander so majestically.


Your antlers have such symmetry,

They make a stunning crown.

Your fur hide, is a royal robe,

Magnificent though brown.


And since you simply cannot fly;

You’re never going to fledge,

I’ve bought a gift – an airline ticket,

With a dozen golden eggs.


So dream your dreams,

You never know just what you will achieve.

Many things are possible,

So long as you believe.



Louise McCarthy

A Secret Space


A Secret Space


There was shelter –

An upturned water tank

With an entrance hole —

My secret space

In the brittle summer bush

Where I’d hide,

Dark and bruised and splintered.


In those childhood days

I was an outlaw of sorts,

Travelling alone,

Not fitting anywhere,

Listening to cicadas throbbing

With song,

Beyond words,

Wanting nothing

But the arc of my mother’s arms



Dianne Bates