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

Springtime

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Springtime

 

When people say: “Spring’s late this year!”

They must be wrong – that’s seems quite clear.

It always starts on one firm date,

So cannot possibly be late!

At school I’m sure that we rehearsed

That Spring begins September 1st.

If every year that does not change,

To say: “Spring’s late”, seems very strange.

 

But if you’re north of the equator,

Spring for you is six months later.

That would mean you are not here,

But in the other hemisphere.

September there’s not Spring at all:

It starts their Autumn or their Fall,

When trees’ green leaves may turn to brown

And from above come floating down.

 

Should someone say that Spring is late,

I do not start some great debate

And tell them what I learnt at school

And treat them like a silly fool,

Since change, for seasons, can be slow.

It’s warmth they want: their plants to grow,

Their flowers to bud and birds to sing.

Till that time comes, it won’t seem Spring.

 

Monty Edwards

Poem of the Day

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Brave?

 

Brave?

Be brave!

Be brave because . . .

Be brave because boldness . . .

Be brave because boldness brings . . .

Be brave because boldness brings benefits.

Be brave because boldness brings bigger benefits!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #29

Meet the poet – Monty Edwards

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Monty Edwards is a regular contributor to the Australian Children’s Poetry Poem of the Day and rarely misses responding to the Monday Poetry Prompt. Monty is retired pastor and educator, whose main focus in writing has become rhyming verse. This began in early adulthood with light-hearted poems to be shared at family celebrations, then years later, in occasional contributions to the weekly bulletin of the church where he served. These were collected and published as Poems on the Way in 2015.

Since that time he has become a regular contributor to the Australian Children’s Poetry Poem of the Day feature and to date has had nine poems accepted for publication by The School Magazine.

With wife Sheena, Monty lives in beachside Rockingham, south of Perth, WA. They have three adult children and five grandchildren. Monty’s other interests include tennis, chess, playing piano and cryptic crosswords.

Monty has published a collection of his children’s poems called The Mystery Box, which includes a number of his Australian Children’s Poetry Poem of the Day submissions.

Contact him at montye@iinet.net.au

 

When did your interest in poetry begin?

I was exposed to poetry in my school years and mostly enjoyed it for its entertainment value, especially rhyming verse that featured narrative, or humour, or both.

Did you write poetry as a child?

I don’t remember writing any poetry until my late teens and very little in early adulthood.

When was your first poem published?

As a by-product of my work as a pastor, and perhaps as late as 1995, I occasionally began to produce verse with Christian themes for the weekly bulletin of the church where I served, then subsequently for the church I now attend in my retirement. In September 2015, 27 of these poems were self-published in booklet form as Poems on the Way: Christian Verse for the Curious and the Committed.

Who are some poets whose writing you love? 

I am drawn to particular poems rather than to particular poets and because of other lifetime interests, have not read widely in the genre until recently. Of Australian poets, I have spent most time with Banjo Paterson and CJ Dennis and I have particularly admired the poems of Jenny Erlanger and Pat Simmons on the Australian Children’s Poetry website.

Have you had any poetry writing mentors?

None to date.

What inspires you to write poetry?

In general, I write to make a difference, whether that be to the reader’s mood, their attitudes, point of view or belief system. I use poetry to affirm, encourage, entertain, educate and challenge, depending on the occasion and likely reader or hearer.

When you are writing a poem, what comes first – a subject, a line, a word?

For me, the subject would nearly always be the starting point, unless I am responding to a prompt.

Do you workshop your poems with anyone?

No, but if I think something I’ve written may be misunderstood, give offence, or fail to achieve its intended purpose, I value my wife’s assessment of its likely effect.

How do you know when a poem is finished?

When I can no longer find ways to improve it! However, I find that if you let the poem rest for a day or two, you may find you can improve it after all.

How do you know if a poem is good?

Although there is no substitute for honest feedback from readers, I feel one’s personal instinct for a poem’s worth develops with experience and by reading respected poets.

In practice I would ask myself: Does the poem flow? If rhyming, is the rhyme unforced? Is each element of the poem appropriate for the intended reader? (In that regard consider subject matter, vocabulary, imagery, form, and length). Is the content interesting and the conclusion satisfying?  If I can answer those questions positively I gain confidence in my poem’s worth.

What is your top tip for aspiring children’s poets?

Keep asking yourself questions like those in the previous response as you work on your poem, and run through them again when you believe it is finished.

 

Rainbow’s End

A snail once heard the story

Which is very often told:

“If you reach a rainbow’s ending,

You will find a pot of gold!”

This idea was most appealing,

(Since the snail was very poor)

And it left him with a feeling

That he couldn’t quite ignore.

 

Every day when it was raining,

But the clouds began to clear,

He would scan the sky for rainbows

In the hope one would appear.

Then at last he thought he saw one

In the garden hothouse glass!

To the spot he slowly hurried

Streaking silver through the grass.

 

But oh, what disappointment,

When he reached that special place!

For of golden coins or treasure,

He discovered not a trace.

As he turned to leave, discouraged,

Something caught his tearful eye

And a potted gold chrysanthemum

Proved the story was no lie.

Monty Edwards

The Mystery Box

 

My lunch for school’s a mystery box and here’s the reason why:

I cannot guess just what’s inside, however hard I try.

There’s something different every day: Mum treats it as a game.

The only thing I’m sure about: no day will be the same.

 

If Monday’s roll has vegemite, then Tuesday’s might have jam.

A sandwich made for Wednesday’s lunch might well be beef or ham.

On Thursday then, a salad wrap could be the big surprise,

But one school lunch on Friday something shocking met my eyes:

 

My mystery box was oozing with a greenish-yellow trickle!

There must have been a mix-up with Dad’s favourite: cheese and pickle!

While Dad enjoyed my peanut paste spread on his bread with honey,

My sandwich had an awful taste. Don’t laugh. It wasn’t funny!

 Monty Edwards

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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The Snooze

 

When Dad’s at the seashore,

This bit he likes best:

After all the swimming,

Take a well-earned rest.

Once lunch is completed,

This is what he’ll choose:

Lying on his towel,

He will have a snooze.

 

Soaking up the sunshine,

Lying on the beach,

Seeking for a suntan,

Drink within his reach,j

How long he will lie there

None of us can guess.

Asked if he’s still snoozing

He just mumbles:”Yes”.

 

We return to swimming,

Wait for him to come,

When it doesn’t happen,

We send back our Mum.

Suddenly Mum wakes him:

“Dave, you’re getting hot!

You look like a lobster,

Lifted from the pot!”

 

Monty Edwards

 Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #15

 

Monty says: “I considered calling the poem “Redback!”, but in order not to confuse, chose “The Snooze”. Although the poem ends as above, one or both the following verses may be added for didactic purposes.”

 

Dad forgot to sunscreen:

Didn’t slip, slop, slap;

Left his head uncovered:

Didn’t wear his cap.

Now his back is blistered,

Face is sore and red,

He will struggle sleeping

Even in his bed.

 

We all learnt a lesson

On the beach that day,

Sunshine is a blessing

When you want to play,

But the sun can hurt you,

If you don’t take care

Best to have protection

With you everywhere.

Poem of the Day

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About Elephants

 

An elephant has a very long nose

That’s sometimes used like a powerful hose

And once that trunk has been exerted,

Anyone close may well be squirted.

 

Note this elementary fact:

Eggshells won’t remain intact

If an elephant’s massive legs

Place his feet on a poor bird’s eggs.

 

It’s OK if you feel hesitant

Every time you’re near an elephant.

Watch that trunk – you could be washed!

Mind those feet – you may be squashed!

 

Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #26

Monty says: “I didn’t get far with rhymes for the key words, but eventually was able to compose a couple of verses which included all the words and then added a final verse to tie it all together.”

Poem of the Day

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The Rule

 

My mother’s voice was loud and clear:

No use pretending not to hear!

I knew the words that soon would come.

They always left me feeling glum.

 

“No, no, no!

I said you may not go.

Unless you clear up all your mess

You will not hear me answer ‘Yes’.

Now pick those clothes up off the floor

And put them in their proper drawer.

Then, all your toys must be away

And after that, yes, go and play.”

 

Mum’s tone of voice left me no choice,

But task once done, meant play and fun.

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

Monty says: “Despite some changes in parenting styles over the years, I suspect many children (and parents) would still be familiar with a rule of this kind and its benefits.”

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Dinner Time Rhyme

 

Did you hear how little Miss Muffet

Sat down to eat some food on a tuffet?

Her curds and whey were soft and wet

(These curds and whey are what you get

When using milk for making cheese,

So do not look for them on trees).

 

If you went out tonight to eat

Instead you’d likely have a seat

And choose a favourite food or two

And wait till it was served to you,

Or from the buffet eat your fill,

But not so much it made you ill.

 

Now should Miss Muffet too turn up

With curds and whey in bowl or cup

And say: “This buffet’s not for me,

Try this, it’s better, you’ll agree.”

Here’s what I suggest you say:

“Let’s go and get some takeaway.”

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #20

Monty says: “A buffet dinner celebration with family a few months back came to mind with the prompt. This got me thinking about how confusing a child might find the pronunciation of “buffet”, having been exposed at some point to little Miss Muffet, let alone what she ate, so I decided to explore both in this simple poem.”

 

Poem of the Day

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The Spell

 

Four metres tall

or possibly five metres!

It stares at us

with one red eye

as we approach.

 

We pause,

held by its gaze,

not daring to move forward;

not wanting to retreat.

 

People join us,

but they go no further than we

as if hypnotised

by that same red eye.

 

Click, click, click . . .

 

Suddenly, the red eye disappears

and we are free

to go safely

across the busy road.

 

The little green man

has broken the spell!

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13

Monty says: “The prompt had me thinking of traffic lights, which seemed very mundane for a simple rhyme, so I felt I’d recast it to inject some drama using a bit of imagery and free verse.”

Poem of the Day

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Question Time

 

I have a younger brother,

Who recently turned four.

He asks Mum many questions

And then he asks some more.

I tried to ask our mother

Why he kept asking “Why?”

The answer that she gave me

Was one enormous sigh.

 

She then breathed in quite deeply

And started to explain

How asking all those questions

Was strengthening his brain.

For as we all get older

And use our ears and eyes,

Our questions bring us answers:

The “Why?”s help make us wise.

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17

Monty says: “The numerous question marks of the prompt made me think of the many questions asked by young children that may test a parent’s patience, but are an essential part of a child’s development.”