Tag Archives: Monty Edwards

Poem of the Day

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The Exhibit

 

The box looked rather ancient:

It was made of weathered wood.

They’d placed it on a varnished shelf

Where now it mutely stood.

Its latch was rather rusty,

Suggesting use at sea,

I guessed it was a sailor’s box:

That’s how it seemed to me.

 

I saw on it some markings

And wondered what they meant,

A letter “C” and “26”

But what was their intent?

Was “C” perhaps for “Captain”,

But why the numbers too?

I came to the conclusion

More likely “C” was “Crew”.

 

Each crewman had a number,

And each his box to store

Whatever most he valued,

Till he was back on shore.

I felt this was the answer.

What else then could it be,

But storage for a sailor?

That’s how it seemed to me.

 

The box was quite discoloured

As if it once was wet:

A relic from a wreck perhaps,

That divers dived to get.

Now salvaged from the sea bed,

Displayed for all to see,

It still held many secrets.

This fascinated me!

 

Whoever once had used it,

Must surely now have died.

I looked at it intently:

What had it held inside?

Beneath it was a notice.

Perhaps this held a clue?

I stopped so I could read it,

As I’d seen others do.

 

Just then I heard my teacher

Quite firmly call my name.

It seemed my class was moving on

So I must do the same.

Our bus outside was waiting.

I clearly couldn’t stay,

But I am now determined

I’ll go back there one day!

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #12

 

Monty says: “I wrote this in sympathy with children who often find it frustrating when they are prevented by adult time constraints from satisfying their curiosity about the things that interest them. Despite this, some children will go on to demonstrate that they have the confidence and resourcefulness to continue their search for answers independently.

Poem of the Day

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Anzac Day

 

They fought for freedoms we hold dear

And paid an awful price.

They faced the foe and conquered fear

To make their sacrifice.

 

Today we honour those who died,

And others who returned,

Who with their fellows, side by side

True comradeship had learned.

 

May all who love Australia fair,

Both here and far away,

Ourselves aspire to gladly serve

Through sacrifice today.

Monty Edwards

 

Author Comment:  It’s fitting that we honour the courage and sacrifice of past generations of Australian service personnel and citizens, but I believe our nation’s future largely depends on how we personally respond to their example in meeting the challenges facing our society today.

Poem of the Day

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Spellbound!

 

Today I started back at school

And heard about a brand new rule.

My teacher had an evil grin.

She said:  “I’m going to keep you in

Till you can spell ‘Afghanistan’.

You won’t be leaving till you can.”

 

I heard her words with great dismay.

My friend and I had planned to play,

And since my spelling’s rather poor,

My chance of getting out the door

And going off to play with him

Seemed altogether rather slim.

 

But then my Afghan friend Khalil

Said: “I can guess how you must feel,

Because I often felt a failure

When I first tried to spell ‘Australia’.

Let’s work together as a team,

It’s not as hard as it might seem.”

 

We worked together, he and I.

He had a plan for me to try:

“I think,” he said, “you’ll find it best

To learn just ‘Afghan’, then the rest.

So let’s begin with ‘Af’ and ‘ghan’.

You’ll surely manage ‘is’ and tan’!”

 

Well, spelling ‘Af’ did not take long.

(He told me double f was wrong),

But as for ‘ghan’ I must beware,

Since silent h had crept in there!

But once he put me on my guard

Inserting h was not so hard.

 

I added then both ‘is’ and ‘tan’

And neatly wrote “Afghanistan”

Then when our turn had come to spell

Khalil and I performed so well

That in the end, despite her grin,

The teacher couldn’t keep us in.

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Monty says:  “I started with the idea of a new rule for a new school year and since accurate spelling presents a significant challenge for many children (and adults!) decided to combine these two elements in the poem. It gave me an opportunity to add a dash of  fruitful understanding and teamwork with someone from a different background.”

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Purple Project

 

Pick a piece of purple paper

And a purple pencil too,

Do not wait until you’re prodded,

For you have a job to do.

Draw yourself a purple pumpkin:

Purple platypus as well,

Then you’ll have a purple picture,

That you’ll never ever sell!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

Monty says: I took the prompt as an invitation to alliterate.

Poem of the Day

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The Three Bears Retold

 

There once was a family named Bear

Who thought they had nothing to wear.

While eating their oats

They remembered their coats

And decided to go to the fair.

 

The number of Bears you would see

Was just a small family of three.

There was Mother and Dad

With a baby they had

And they lived in a house by a tree.

 

They went to the fair to have fun,

But their time there had hardly begun

When they each said: “I’m hot!”

For it seems they forgot

That their fur coats held heat in the sun.

 

“We’d better go home,” they all said.

“Let’s finish our porridge instead.”

(If only they knew

A young girl was there too,

Who was sleeping in Baby Bear’s bed!)

 

As soon as they opened the door,

They saw that their bowls had held more.

Some porridge not there!

One broken small chair!

But a bigger surprise was in store.

 

For then the whole family Bear

Were wanting to search everywhere.

When they saw Baby’s bed

Held a young girl instead

They growled: “That is really unfair!”

 

Their guest got straight up with a shock.

(The Bears had neglected to knock).

She ran out the door

And they saw her no more

While the Bears quickly fitted a lock!

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry prompt #1

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Monty says: I decided I’d like to try to retell, in verse, a condensed and slightly embellished version of a story about a family many children would know well.

Poem of the Day

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The Blues

 

Most people would say blue’s a colour: the colour of sky and the sea

And If I should happen to ask you, I fully expect you’d agree,

But blue is much more than a colour: believe me, it really is true,

Because if you don’t, or you just simply won’t,

I might have a real blue with you!

 

For blue is not always a colour. It’s a blue when we argue or fight.

When our faces are red and some heated words said,

It’s a blue that we’re having all right.

A blue, then, is not very pleasant and we may be left feeling quite bad

Should that happen to you, you’ll be feeling quite blue,

Which is simply to say you that you’re sad.

 

You may hear a person called “Bluey”, or “Blue” if the name is made short.

It’s said as a joke to a red-headed bloke:

One with hair of the gingery sort.

But if you’re a loyal Australian and value this land and its ways

Then we’ll call you “true blue” and think highly of you,

For the “true blue” are people we praise.

 

Now even when blue IS a colour, we’re not always sure what to think.

We know it’s not green like a pea or a bean, and it’s hardly a yellow or pink!

But it could be a sky blue or navy. It might be an aquamarine,

Or baby blue, cobalt or turquoise, for these too may sometimes be seen.

So before you say “blue”, take a moment or two

And  make sure you make clear what you mean!

 

Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

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Monty says: “As I thought about the different colours, I was struck by the range of uses of the word “blue”, and also the various shades in which the colour blue may be seen. I thought it might be helpful to children and new Australians to explore this in a poem.”

 

Poem of the Day

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Lying on the Beach

 

One day I saw a bottle that was lying on the sand.

I asked: “Why are you lying?” Then I grabbed it with my hand.

The bottle made no answer and it gave a glassy stare:

It clearly felt it had a right to spend time lying there.

I saw a drip form on its lip and thought it was a tear,

Which seemed to say: “Just go away and leave me lying here.”

But I’d been taught that lying was a serious sort of sin,

So straight away, without delay, the liar went in the bin!

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

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Monty says: The idea of using word play for this poem came while working on another poem in response to the same prompt.

Poem of the Day

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Beach Bottle

 

The bottle looked lost as it lay on the sand.

Perhaps it had fallen from somebody’s hand.

It seemed to be empty, but still had its lid

Whoever had dropped it must know that they did.

Or had it been lost from the deck of a boat,

With air trapped inside having helped it to float,

Until borne by the waves and washed up by the tide

It was left on the beach at the end of its ride?

 

Still, no one had claimed it. The bottle was mine!

It looked to have once held some cider or wine.

I bent down and grasped it, then held it up high

To check if inside it was thoroughly dry.

I found it not empty as first I had thought,

But rather, inside was a note of some sort!

I opened and read what was written within:

“Please take this old bottle and throw in the bin.”

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

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Monty says: While working on this poem for the bottle prompt a second poem using a different approach to the same prompt was conceived.

Poem of the Day

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Bubble Trouble

 

I’ll tell you the trouble with bubbles:

They burst like a punctured balloon

As they fall on a sharp piece of rubble,

Or they fail on their flight to the moon.

It’s useless to try to collect them.

They’re not like a coin or a stamp.

For the hand that you raise to protect them

You’ll soon find is feeling quite damp.

 

Yet bubbles, you’d better believe it,

Can actually be lots of fun.

You can catch them and snatch them

And quickly despatch them

Until you have burst every one.

You can chase them all over your garden.

You can watch them drift over a wall.

Though you run like a hare,

As they’re mostly just air,

When you search you’ll find nothing at all!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

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Poem of the Day

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The Tortoise

 

The tortoise has a solid shell

And this protects it very well.

If frightened and it wants to hide

It tucks its head and legs inside.

Although its movement’s rather slow

It still gets where it wants to go.

Despite its most ungainly gait

You’d never say it’s running late!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

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