Poem of the Day

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Muddled Monotreme

 

I poked a purple platypus

So playfully I prodded

It peered out of a pumpkin patch

it winked at me and nodded

The platypus was at a loss

no reason was there known

why he was in a pumpkin patch

and not his river home

I gently pushed him in a box

this muddled monotreme

and set him free to swim again

down at our local stream

 

© Allan Cropper
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

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Message in a Bottle

 

A little bit of litter

loitered there upon the sand.

A green and glassy bottle

with no label showing brand.

I wonder if it floated here

from some far distant land,

with a message at its core for me to read,

sent by a sailor stranded and in need.

 

A little weathered letter

written by the sailor’s hand,

send here across the seven seas

on waves the wind had fanned.

Is this the destination

that the messenger had planned?

Alas, I find the note has since been freed,

and now the bottle’s stranded too, indeed.

Allan Cropper
  • In response to Poetry Prompt #7

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SCHOOL DAZE

My mind is muddled, I feel befuddled,

bewildered and confused.

I think the space inside my brain

has been completely used.

There’s no room left for algebra,

or history or dates,

So I’ll be marching out of school,

please open up the gates.

What’s that you say? You’ll ring my mum?

You’ll call my dad as well?

Well, silly me, there seems to be

some room left in there still.

I guess I’ll stay and learn some more

until the final bell.

© Allan Cropper
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

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Through my Window

 

Morning comes in through my window

making shadows on my wall

I can see the roses waving

I can hear the magpies call

In the street the dogs are barking

busy people start their day

I stay wrapped within my doona

till it’s time for me to play

Morning comes in through my window

beams of sunlight make me smile

Mummy’s calling me to breakfast

‘In a while, Mum. In a while’

Then I smell the crispy bacon,

maple syrup, pancakes, more.

Morning comes in through my window,

I go racing out the door.

 

Allan Cropper
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #6

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Poem of the Day

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A PUPPY AT BREAKFAST

 

A wiggle, a wobble

a scramble, a stumble

a nibble, a gnaw and a nip

a puddle of dribble

a bowl full of kibble

a trip and a slide and a slip

a tail that’s a’wagging

a small bottom dragging

a’scrapin’, a’scratchin’ and flinchin’

the tiniest paws

on the slipperiest floors

a pup on the tiles in the kitchen.

Allan Cropper

Poem of the Day

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THE TEARDROP

by Allan Cropper

 

I was sad.

I shed a single tear.

It lay before me but for a moment.

A warming sun and a drying wind beckoned it skyward

to join a million other teardrops in a cloud.

A million teardrops fell to earth,

and like a million teardrop broom

they swept away the fear and gloom,

and I was happy.

 

Poem of the Day

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A FROG ON A LOG

by Allan Cropper

A frog

a frog on a log

a frog on a log with a bag full of sticks

a frog on a log with a bag full of tricks

a frog

a magical frog

a mystical frog

a wave

a wave of a stick

a wave of a stick from his bag full of tricks

a wave of a wand from his bag full of sticks

a fog

a magical fog

a mystical fog

a mist

a mist on a pond

a mystical fog on a frog on a log

a frog on a log was no longer a frog

a frog on a log had turned into a dog

a dog

a magical dog

a mystical dog

a dog

a dog not a frog

a dog, not a frog, on a log in a fog

a dog not a frog with a bag full of sticks

a dog not a frog with a bag full of tricks

a wave

a wave of a stick

a wave of a stick from his bag full of tricks

a wave of a wand from his bag full of sticks

a smog

a magical smog

a mystical smog

a twist

a twist of a tail

a magical smog and the pond was a bog

a dog not a frog was no longer a dog

a dog not a frog had turned into a hog

a hog

a magical hog

a mystical hog

a hog

a hog not a dog

a hog not a frog

a hog in a bog

a hog not a dog or a frog on a log

a hog in a bog not a dog or a frog

a magical hog with a bag full of sticks

a magical hog with a bag full of tricks

Poem of the Day

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THINGS THAT GO POP

by Allan Cropper

 

Balloons make the loudest pop

They pop so loud that people stop

POP!

 

Bubbles make the softest pop

Hardly worth the trouble

pop!

 

But bubble wrap is clearly tops

When it comes to making pops

It goes on like it never stops

pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

pop pop pop pop pop pop pop!

Poem of the Day

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BING BANG WALLOPY BOOM

by Allan Cropper

 

Bing bang wallopy boom

The marching band came in my room

Round and round and round my bed

Pounding pounding in my head

Bing bang wallopy boom

The marching band marched out my room

I never heard another peep

I closed my eyes and fell asleep

 

Poem of the Day

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HIGGLEDY PIGGLEDY

 by Allan Cropper

 

It’s a topsy turvy kind of day

My head is in a spin

What’s down is up, what’s up is down

I’m neither out nor in

I’ll try on lots of outfits

and brush and style my hair

It’s a topsy turvy kind of day

but I don’t really care

It’s a muddily fuddily way I feel

My head is in a fog

I think I’ll put my runners on

and go out for a jog

I’ll race the other joggers

to see if I can win

It’s a muddily fuddily way I feel

but comfy in my skin

It’s a higgledy piggledy afternoon

My head is in a cloud

I think I’ll put my headphones on

Play music way up loud

I’ll dance around my bedroom

where no one else can see

It’s a higgledy piggledy afternoon

and that’s just fine with me