My Christmas Story

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My Christmas Story

 

I’m writing a Christmas story.

It feels like Winter snow.

I’d better get a move on;

Just six more sleeps to go.

 

I’m writing a Christmas story.

It sounds like Ho Ho Ho.

I’d better get my skates on;

Just five more sleeps to go.

 

I’m writing a Christmas story.

It smells like cookie dough.

I’d better get a roll on;

Just four more sleeps to go.

 

I’m writing a Christmas story,

But it’s not the one I know.

I’d better pull the reins in

With three more sleeps to go.

 

I’m writing a Christmas story.

It smells like fresh mango,

I’d better take it easy;

Still two more sleeps to go.

 

I’m writing a Christmas story.

It sounds like the sea’s flow,

It’s time to take a rest now;

Just one more sleep to go.

 

I’m writing a Christmas story.

It feels like Summer’s glow.

And today I’ll live that story;

A Christmas of my own.

 

By Kylie Covark

 

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Letter “C”

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LETTER “C”

 

C them there on windows,

C them there in stores,

C them up all over,

C them now because…

 

 

C is for Christmas cards!

 

 

Christmas cards with holly,

Cards with silver bells,

Cards with laughing Santas,

Cards that wish you well.

 

Christmas cards with angels,

Cards with trees and snow,

Cards with candles burning,

Cards that gleam and glow.

 

Christmas cards with reindeers,

Leaping through the sky,

Up there on the mantel —

Christmas Day is nigh!

 

Christmas cards with sparkle,

Heartfelt cards so true;

Why can’t all that goodwill

Last the whole year through?

 

 

James Aitchison

“Progression” with Teacher notes

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Progression

 

She showed it

to her slavedriver

who saw the possibilities

He promoted slave Hannah

to supervise

the sawing team

 

Before,

hundreds pulled the immense stone block

on its log rollers

A team of twenty waited at the back

to grasp the log-load

when it had been run over

The back log had to be

hauled to the front

to be run over yet again

 

If only the stone could stay still

on the logs while they kept rolling

Clearly impossible. Hannah scowled

But a slice of log sawn from one end

would roll the same way

With a hole in the middle

supporting – well we’d call it an axle

and a second round piece from the log

On her model it worked perfectly

Wheels! Wooden wheels!

The first cart

 

Wheelbarrows, trains, cars, trucks

cogs, pulleys, clocks,  machines

 

Life on earth would never be the same.

 

Virginia Lowe

Notes:

The Israelites or Jews were kept slaves by the Egyptians, so I’m imagining it was the same time as they built the pyramids – that’s why I called the slave Hannah, originally a Jewish name.

In fact it wasn’t the same time – the pyramids were built about 300 years before the Israelite’s turned up. But it makes a more interesting story. A very very old story.

I couldn’t think of any way to describe the axle apart from our word, but it’s a concept they wouldn’t have had. I’d like to hear if anyone can think of how the rod holding the two wheels together and on the ground, could be described otherwise.

The Jews escaped from Egypt with the help of Moses, who persuaded the king, Pharaoh, to let them go with the help of ten plagues. It is all there told in the Bible in the book Exodus, and is celebrated each year by the Jewish community as Passover.

Ideas:

Maths:           Looking at shape make Pyramids with cardboard

Humanities: Research the logistics of the building of the Pyramids

Learn about Jewish history and culture

Music:          “Let my people go” This includes images that will help in learning about

Jewish history

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkEmS3hWmmU

Art:               Paint: Make a giant class cardboard pyramid and creatively decorate it

Birds of a Feather

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Birds of a Feather

There’s a paddling of ducklings in my lake
And a purr of pussycats half awake

There’s a trembling of finches on my lawn
And a purr of pussycats stretch and yawn

There’s a troubling of hummingbirds in my blossom
And a purr of pussycats playing possum

There’s a pitying of turtledoves cooing to their mate
And a purr of pussycats rubbing on the gate

There’s a quarrel of sparrows busy with their fight
And a purr of pussycats keeping out of sight

There’s a peep of chickens and a bevy of quails
And a purr of pussycats wagging their tails

But then, in the sky, is a murder of crows
And a prickle of pussycats hide in the rose

Jackie Hosking

The Dreamers

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The Dreamers

 

Once a waddling goose and gander

On a search for something grander

Left their farmyard to meander

Down a stream.

Now the goose was named Cassandra

And the gander, Alexander,

With a new home by the water

As their dream.

 

They had found the farmyard boring

With the crows’ incessant cawing

And the sleepy dogs all snoring

Through the day.

While the river looked appealing

And it gave the pair a feeling

In their new home by the water

They would stay.

 

But the farmer had been boasting

Of the geese he planned on roasting

At a dinner he was hosting

For his friend.

So he searched in haste to catch them

And he speedily despatched them.

Thus the dreamers by the river

Met their end.

 

Monty Edwards

Polliwogs and pobblebonks

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Polliwogs and pobblebonks

I could be quite mistaken

but I’m feeling pretty sure

that polliwog’s a word

you’ve never come across before.

And pobblebonk’s another,

with a funny kind of sound,

a word I’m also certain

you have never seen around.

They’re not a type of candy

or variety of fish.

They’re not exotic items

in some oriental dish.

They don’t have beaks or feathers

and they’re not a breed of dog.

A polliwog’s a tadpole

and a pobblebonk’s a frog.

Jenny Erlanger

Poetry Prompt #40

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This week’s prompt is “Chickens”

A few ideas:

  • Why did the chicken cross the road?
  • Chickens pecking order
  • Feathers flying
  • The love of eggs
  • The noisy rooster
  • Hens brooding

 

Looking forward to your contributions.

Please send to: poemoftheday.jaxton@gmail.com

 

This week’s quote to ponder on:

“With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion”

Edgar Allan Poe

(An American writer 1809-1849)