Poem of the Day


Clear the field


Clear the field

Run away!

The farmer’s bull escaped today.


Swim the creek,

He’s mad, I see.

With those big horns, we’d better flee!


Jump the ditch,

Scale the rocks.

Don’t follow me in those red socks.


Take them off!

Shut the gate.

Don’t look back, the bull’s irate.


Home at last.

Slam the door.

We’re not snooping anymore! 

Lynette Oxley
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #21

Lynette said: I wanted to create the suspense I felt as a child when a girlfriend said, “The bull’s escaped!”


Poem of the Day


Mixed-up Banquet


“What’s for dinner?” asked the snail from the rusty garden pail.

“Some lettuce and banana,” cried the skinny, young Iguana.

“The compost heap smells great … Hurry up! You’re running late.”

“I can’t go any faster,” wailed the snail as Ig raced past her.


“What’s for dinner?” asked the kid as he paddled near a squid.

“Some shrimp and little fish,” said the squid. “A tasty dish.

The water’s warm and fine. Come on in so we can dine.”

“The surf’s too deep and rough, so I’ll fetch my brothers Gruff.”


“What’s for dinner?” barked the dog as she raced towards a hog.

“I’m slurping applesauce. Can you guess the second course?”

“A Dagwood Dog or two? I don’t know. Give me a clue.”

“It’s frozen, in a cuppy. Starts with ‘S’ and ends with ‘Puppie’.”


“What’s for dinner?” purred the cat on the dusty, worn-out mat.

“Swiss cheese and raisin toast,” squeaked the mouse beside a post.

“I’d rather catch fresh meat,” yawned the cat. “A little treat.

My tummy cries for food and my eyes are set on ___.”


Lynette Oxley


  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #20

Lynette said: I wanted the poem to have internal rhyme and be a guessing game.

Poem of the Day


The Feely Bag


What’s inside the feely bag?

Please tell us what you feel.


A slimy, slippery frog perhaps,

That makes you squirm and reel.


A ragged, worn-out kitchen sponge,

That’s squelchy, smelly, wet.


Or Cody’s wriggly garden worms,

The biggest he could get.


Do bristles scrape your fingertips,

When lifting something up?


Is it a nailbrush, Stickle Brick,

Some Velcro in a cup?


It may be soft with rubber wings,

And live inside a cave.


A tingly touch might make you scared

To guess you must be brave.


Lynette Oxley


  • In response to Poetry Prompt #18


Lynette said: I wrote about preschool children who are willing to put their hands in a Feely Bag and guess what the contents might be. This activity promotes language development.






Poem of the Day

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A wooden case from days gone by,

Was found in Castle Cove by Kai.

The case was worn, the timber stressed,

Inside old coins? We guessed with zest.


The number twenty-five was writ,

A symbol, £, preceding it.

Is this a clue? Can’t wait to see,

A treasure trove for Kai and me.


A rusty handle, latch and hinge,

Accompanied by mouldy tinge –

Did fill the air with damp and must.

I held my breath and gave a thrust.


The lock was picked and thrown away,

And parchment lifted to display –

Some invitations to a show,

With royal insignia inked below.

Lynette Oxley
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #12


Lynette said: Although the crate reminded me of a vintage ammo box, I wrote about an alternative possibility.