Poem of the Day

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I think about kids in Kazakhstan

Siberia, Finland, Tajikistan

Of things that I can see and do

Things that those kids never can.


Cranking, crashing, curling, waves

Green and glassy gurgling waves

Pounding and pumping

Thumping and dumping

Hammering and hissing hollow caves


A monstrous rising swell

Throws barrels straight from hell

To bounce and duck and race

Screaming down the face

To win and ring that bell


And when the sea breeze dies

Surfers one by one

Raise their heads and shade their eyes

To watch a golden stairway climb

Up to the setting sun


But then I think of a different fate

To see a sparkling crystal tree

To slip and slide and glide and skate

Over an icy moonlit lake

Think how awesome that would be

Joanne Pummer




Poem of the Day



by Joanne Pummer


Who shot Sooty?

”I did,” cried Ellie. ”With a little gun

I shot Sooty.”


Who found  the gun?

”I did,” said Ellie. ”In my Mummy’s purse

I found the gun.”


Who squeezed trigger?

”I did,” sobbed Ellie.

”I squeezed the trigger.”


Why did you squeeze it?

”I wanted to play.

That’s why I squeezed it.”


Who heard the shot?

”I did,” said Mum.

”I ran and I ran when I heard the shot.”


Who bought the gun?

”I did,” said Dad.

”I bought the gun.”


Why did you buy it?

”To keep us all safe.

That’s why I bought it.”


Who saw the blood?

”I did,” said James.

”I saw Sooty’s blood.”


Who kissed his forehead?

“I did,” said James.

”I kissed his soft black fur.”


We hugged and we cried when they carried off Sooty.


”Wait,” said the gun.

”I shot Sooty. With my little bullets

I shot Sooty.”


Did you scream, did you shout when the shot rang out?

Did you cry, did you call when you saw Sooty fall?


”No,” said the gun.

”I’m not like you.

I only do what I was made to do.”


Author comment: I wrote Who Shot Sooty?’ on the spur of the moment when I saw in a news item that the National Rifle Association in the US have written a children’s book.