If you dearly want to gain
A skill
Allow me to explain
The drill
You really have to train
Until
You can do it again
And again
At will.
Author comment: I thought I’d try to work with the keyword as a verb. I seemed to be on the way to some rare (for me) free verse, but the rhyming possibilities took over, resulting in perhaps my shortest ever poem.
Animals ev’rywhere always amaze:
Big beefy buffaloes quietly graze;
Cats with their claws out can climb and can scratch;
Dogs dive for balls using teeth for a catch;
Elephants’ ears are as big as can be;
Foxes from hunters can speedily flee;
Gentle giraffes are remarkably tall;
Heavyweight hippos have ears that are small.
I like the ibex. It surely can climb.
Just don’t wait for zebra. I haven’t the time!
Author comment: For an alphabetic assignment I wanted a subject of interest to children that was represented by many examples. This would help provide maximum flexibility for the alphabetic choices and the accompanying rhymes. Animals seemed ideal. I decided to underline the alphabetic structure with some alliteration and the final line, but stopped at J to avoid monotony and less convincing examples.
Easter’s not about a bunny ,
Nor the eggs in shops you’ll see
Wrapped in foil with shells of chocolate:
Mostly empty , you’ll agree.
Easter’s all about a Saviour:
One who died and rose again;
Paid a price to bring us freedom;
Lives for evermore to reign.
We can leave our guilt behind us.
Jesus bore it on his cross.
Start again, and grateful serve him,
Rescued from eternal loss.
Ours is wisdom to obey him:
He alone our rightful King;
This is lasting satisfaction
Chocolate eggs can never bring.
Author comment: Amid today’s crass commercialism, the poem attempts to remind readers of Easter’s original meaning and significance which remain important to millions the world over.
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.
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.
When I see both red and white,
I think about a fabled fight
That took place long ago.
A soldier brave rode out to save
A maiden from a dragon’s cave.
That dragon was his foe!
With lance aloft and poised to pierce,
George rode toward that dragon fierce
And struck a lethal blow.
Then all at once its fiery breath,
Extinguished by its sudden death
Was scarcely seen to glow!
The horse, once white, was quite a sight
With blood-red smears gained in the fight:
A most courageous steed!
Without his horse, St George, of course,
Would hardly be a fighting force
And likely, first to bleed!
In fighting flame, George made his name.
When vict’ry came, he gained great fame.
“The man’s a saint!” folk cried.
Now freed from fear and full of cheer,
They praised St George one day each year,
Long after he had died.
The story grew as stories do.
I fear that few may think it true.
I leave the verdict up to you.
Author Comment: Lacking inspiration, I began to focus on the colours in the prompt, rather than the shapes. I grew up in the St George district of Sydney, my sisters attended St George Girls’ High School, while I followed and participated in St George sporting teams, all featuring red and white in combination. It was time to research the legend and begin to acquaint a new generation with it.
Today I’m all excited ’cause we’re going to the zoo
And there’s something that we’ll see there that I’ll now describe to you.
Since it’s found throughout Australia you would hardly call it rare –
Live for long in any city and you’ll surely find one there.
Not so common in the country, but you still may see a few,
It’s no cuddly koala nor a bounding kangaroo.
Do not think of an echidna or a little bandicoot
This is something that you’ll never ever hear described as cute.
In appearance, on occasions, it’s been likened to a snake,
But it’s certainly not legless in the moves that it can make.
If you see a very large one, you will wish it wasn’t so,
Should it move along quite slowly, you may even see it grow!
You can rule out any reptile, bird or fish that comes to mind,
But I will not tease you further, that would really be unkind.
It’s a line. No, not a lion. There, I’ve given you a clue.
It’s a line of ticket buyers gaining entry through a queue!
Author comment: I found the array of spellings used to convey the final sound of “queue” quite remarkable and used several. Among them, the zoo provided a useful context for the poem, as aside from rhyming with the key word, the zoo is a familiar and positive experience for most children. Describing the queue as if an unnamed exhibit seemed a good way of arousing curiosity without compromising truth on the way to a surprise conclusion.
Must our poems rhyme
ALL the time?
No. Not so.
Don’t you know
Some verse is free
Like a fish in the sea?
But personally, I prefer my fish
Served on a regular dish
(With chips).
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5
Author Comment: The poem is something of a joke at my own expense, since I find it difficult to break the rhyming habit, but sometimes the ideas in a poem refuse to yield to the constraints of rhyme. This is admitted by the final line of the poem.
The shapes I like are conical. They taper to the tip.
Perhaps you’ve seen some shells like that when going for a dip.
Such shells are very pretty and they’re great fun to collect:
Their range of colours, streaks and spots – much more than you’d expect!
While at the beach you may well see a different kind of cone:
Far bigger, in a lifeguard’s hand, it’s called a megaphone.
Through this his booming voice is heard to call us back to shore.
It’s warning us of danger we’d be foolish to ignore.
When heading home, our swimming done, one final cone I eat.
I’m sure you’ve guessed just what it is, so icy cold and sweet!
Then as I lick the one I pick, my tongue can taste and test.
Of all the cones I’ve ever known, I like an ice-cream best!
Monty says: With no clear direction, I made a list of shapes, along with articles that either embodied them or words that rhymed with them. I wanted to avoid the familiar square/cube and circle/sphere and work with something specific that was less common and also three dimensional. From my list of words and ideas the resources for a seaside scenario emerged featuring the cone.
T’s always starting Trouble as we very clearly see,
In Trains it must sit at the front, as selfish as can be,
Then when it comes to Taking Turns, of course it must be first,
As Time and Time again, in this, it really is the worst.
Its influence is very bad, of that there is no doubt,
For when there’s work for it to do we find it backing ouT.
A man named Ben was joined by T and instantly was BenT,
So gained a reputation that was never his intent!
Now people sometimes tell you, you should “mind your Ps and Qs”,
But when it comes to letters there’s another that I’d choose.
Its awfully bad behaviour’s bound to lead you into error,
So I’d advise: “Beware of T!” It truly is a Terror.
Monty says: My basic idea for the poem was to work with the actual letter T: its position in words and how it could be taken from or added to words to change them into new words. Although I could find lots of examples, for me it proved difficult to shape these into any sort of coherent narrative that could be taken literally, and also had a consistent rhyming scheme (which was my goal). I nearly gave up, but I found giving the letter T a personality helped focus my effort and gave the poem unity.
I may not have a backbone,
But I’m brave as brave can be.
Just take time to observe me,
Then I’m sure you will agree.
My enemies are giants tall
And armed with hoes and spades!
They stomp around my picnic spots
And hurl their flashing blades!
Yet these will not deter me,
Since it’s clear that I must eat
The greens left lying in my path:
How beautifully sweet!
I bravely dodge the missiles
And the bomb-like boots from heights.
Such perils do not kill desire
To scoff down such delights!
When climbing I am carefree:
Though high may be the wall,
I cling to ledges upside down
And never fear to fall.
So do not doubt my courage.
Admire my spiral shell!
Call me “a mighty mollusc”
And “Supersnail” as well!
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