Poem of the Day


Holiday Playground



Rambling round the ruins

Found in Greece and Rome,

We are merely tourists

Very far from home.

What it’s like to live here

We can only guess.

Is it full of interest?

Hear us answer: “Yes!”


Ruins tell us stories

Of a nation’s past,

But its former glories

Often do not last.

Wars and evil leaders

Good things can destroy;

Plagues and vile diseases

Steal a nation’s joy.



Rambling round the ruins,

Climbing steps and stairs,

Weaving through the columns,

We cast off our cares.

Here we hide from siblings;

Trick our dad and mum;

Once we were reluctant.

Now we’re glad we’ve come!


Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #34

Poetry Prompt #34

Monty says: Children can turn even ancient ruins into playground equipment at will!



Poem of the Day


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



by Virginia Lowe


They found a cave one summer

on the beach front

A yew tree flourished above

held by roots

clutching the walls

Underneath was dark and cool


Secluded and safe

no one knew they were there

They stored drinks

a rug to sit on

Over weeks

they played pirates

treasure hidden on a root-shelf

at the back.


The creaks and groans

only added to the atmosphere

until the Sunday

of a summer storm

when they sheltered there

Poem of the Day

1 Comment

Bath time

by Sophie Masson


Soap-fish, soap-fish, slipping through my fingers,

Soap-dish, soap-dish, sailing like a boat.

Toothbrush, toothbrush, turning into long-ship,

Hairbrush, hairbrush, learning how to float.

Look! One hand’s a submarine,

The other a breaching whale,

My toes are pointed coral rocks,

There’s the splash of a dolphin’s tail!

My bath’s become an ocean,

And I’m the sailor bold

Who roams the wild blue yonder–

Until the water gets cold!