Tag Archives: Monty Edwards

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Small Wonder

 

Please don’t be frightened, sweet butterfly blue,

I just want to capture a picture of you.

As I inch closer I mean you no harm.

It’s not my intention to cause you alarm.

Your wings are so delicate: colours so pretty!

Please don’t fly away. That would be such a pity.

No need now to flutter, I’ll keep this quite brief.

Just stay where you are on that rich deep green leaf.

That’s perfect! I’ve got you! You’ll soon be on show:

Your beauty shared proudly with people I know.

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #40

poetry-prompt40

Monty says: This poem draws on recent experience at a magnificent butterfly farm in Penang, Malaysia.

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Pathway in the Park

 

The winter sun was sinking. It was getting rather late.

Our parents would be waiting at the park’s main entrance gate.

“Make sure you’re back by sunset!” That had been Dad’s final word,

But Mum chose to repeat it to make sure that we had heard.

 

Because I was the oldest, Dad had said I was in charge,

Adding: “Stay together always!” since the park was very large.

Also quite important was to stay close to the track,

For then we’d simply follow it to make our way straight back.

 

We walked downhill some distance, then we found a little creek.

This turned out really excellent for playing hide and seek.

The trees and boulders by the banks were great to hide behind

And in the creek some coloured stones, I felt, were quite a find.

 

The time there passed more quickly than I ever realised

So when I glanced down at my watch, I really was surprised.

“We’ve been here much too long!” I cried, “It’s time for us to go.

We can’t afford to take our stones. They’ll make us far too slow.”

 

The others tried to argue, but I wouldn’t change my mind.

The pathway back was steep uphill, so stones were left behind.

We hid them underneath a bush and hoped to come back soon

To find and play with them again, some other afternoon.

 

The sun no longer warmed us and we felt the winter chill.

The wind blew in our faces as we climbed the steps uphill.

The shadows grew much longer and the sky was turning red.

Our legs were getting weary, but we faced more steps ahead.

 

Beyond the steps, in fading light, our pathway took a bend

And as it curved off to the right I thought we’d find the end,

But still the path continued on. No gate came into view.

Nor was there sign of Mum or Dad. What were we going to do?

 

The path was now all we had left to guide us to the gate,

Since round us everything was dark and we were awfully late.

The wind was whistling eerily: a mournful sort of sound.

We huddled close together and our hearts began to pound!

 

Just then I thought I heard a shout. It sounded like my name.

“I’m here!” I cried with all my might. The others did the same.

Despite the dark, we knew the voice, it clearly was our Dad

And though we were in trouble, I could not have been more glad!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #38

poetry-prompt-38Monty says: For me the first challenge was to find a suitable narrative involving children for the setting in the prompt. From a basic scenario based loosely on personal experience the rhyming verse was developed with the aim of providing enough colour and detail to achieve an appropriate level of tension and resolution.

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Seeking Stardom

 

There was a young man who once bought a guitar.

His goal was to strut on the stage as a star,

But when plucking a string,

It just broke with a “ping”,

So he gave up and didn’t get far.

 

Another young man bought a fine tennis racquet.

He dreamt of success that would make him a packet.

But his strokes were all wrong:

Balls he hit went too long.

When he saw any ball he’d just whack it!

 

 A third wanted fame with a bat, playing cricket.

He went for a six, but fell onto his wicket!

“Owzat!?” came the shout.

Then the umpire cried: “Out!”

So, for fame then, the bat was no ticket.

 

 Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #35

Poetry Prompt #35

Monty says: For would-be stars, the right equipment is only one ingredient for success.

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Space Traveler

 

I plan to build a spaceship soon and travel to the stars.

My Dad says: “Land first on the moon, then buy more fuel on Mars.”

But will the Martians sell me fuel if I’ve no shopper docket?

I’ll ask my mum to give me one and keep it in my pocket.

 

At school we learned the nearest star is still quite far away.

This means the food I’ll need to pack must last more than one day.

So I should fit a cupboard in where food can all be stored

And for my rest, it’s surely best, to put a bed on board.

 

My spaceship must have windows where I’ll watch the stars at night.

For sleeping, I’ll make shutters to keep out their dazzling light.

Since stars will be much closer as I travel out in space

There’d hardly be much sleeping with them shining in my face!

 

I’ve worked it out. Without a doubt, my spaceship will be large.

I ought to contact Fuel Watch too, to learn what Martians charge.

I think perhaps I need more time. There’s so much I must do,

But once my spaceship’s ready, then I’ll say goodbye to you.

 

Or would you like to help me build and join me for the ride?

You needn’t  answer straight away, there’s still time to decide,

But if you plan to come along, you too need food and bed.

So let’s  just ask our mums to take us to the zoo instead.

 

Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #35Poetry Prompt #35

Monty says:  Space travel seems to fascinate many children and stimulate their imagination, long before they have any realistic concept of what it might involve.

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Tongue Torture

 

If you like to eat cold meat and consider that a treat,

Have you ever thought of adding chilli sauce?

Use a little, not a lot, since this sauce is rather hot

And you wouldn’t want to singe your tongue, of course.

 

Don’t be led astray by greed and take more than you will need.

If you do, I can assure you, you’ll regret it.

Though your tongue may twist and turn, your whole mouth will seem to burn

And I doubt you’ll soon be able to forget it!

 

Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

poetry prompt #32

Monty says: The pickle prompt got me thinking about other sauces and relishes which adults enjoy, but children’s palates may not be prepared for.

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Holiday Playground

 

 

Rambling round the ruins

Found in Greece and Rome,

We are merely tourists

Very far from home.

What it’s like to live here

We can only guess.

Is it full of interest?

Hear us answer: “Yes!”

 

Ruins tell us stories

Of a nation’s past,

But its former glories

Often do not last.

Wars and evil leaders

Good things can destroy;

Plagues and vile diseases

Steal a nation’s joy.

 

 

Rambling round the ruins,

Climbing steps and stairs,

Weaving through the columns,

We cast off our cares.

Here we hide from siblings;

Trick our dad and mum;

Once we were reluctant.

Now we’re glad we’ve come!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #34

Poetry Prompt #34

Monty says: Children can turn even ancient ruins into playground equipment at will!

 

 

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Clown Caper

 

Once a climbing clown,

Clambered up a tower,

Colander in hand,

Plus a cauliflower.

What he had in mind,

No-one seemed to know

And it wasn’t clear,

How far up he’d go.

 

After quite a climb

He had reached the top,

Items still in hand,

He then let them drop!

Neither looked the same,

Fallen from the tower,

Not the colander,

Nor the cauliflower!

 
Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #36

Poetry Prompt #36Monty says: I enjoy writing rhyming verse with a bit of humour included and sometimes short lines add to the effect. Rhyming words for ‘cauliflower’ and ‘clown’ in ‘tower’ and ‘down’ helped provide the ideas for the basic content of the poem.

 

 

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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
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

poetry prompt #32Monty says: I didn’t like pickle at all as a child and would have been horrified to find it in my school lunch.

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Wally’s Folly

My mate Wally had a collie that he gave the name of Molly

And he thought it would be jolly to pull Molly on a trolley,

But poor Molly, when she tried it, was determined not to ride it,

So that once it hit a bump, she decided she would jump.

 

Now when Molly left the trolley she soon showed me Wally’s folly,

For without the weight of Molly even faster went the trolley

And while Wally tried to race it, he was failing to outpace it,

So it quickly knocked him over, but with luck he fell on clover.

 

Soon he had a lick from Molly who felt sorry for poor Wally,

But both Wally and his collie just ignored the upturned trolley,

Then with Wally’s heels near bleeding and the collie always leading,

They went back to where they started and much wiser I departed.

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

saffy1Monty says: The prompt had me thinking about the different breeds of dogs and their various temperaments. I then saw the possibilities for some humorous rhyme, featuring a gentle intelligent collie.

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Squirrel Sightings

 

Have you ever seen a squirrel? You may think them rather cute,

But they’re certainly not stupid, for they’re really quite astute.

They take notice of the weather when the winter’s on its way

And store all the food that’s needed for each coming frosty day.

For that is when they snuggle in the hollow of a tree,

Or they hide among the bushes where they’re difficult to see.

 

Every squirrel’s quite a builder when it wants to make a nest

So that as things get much colder there’s a place for warmth and rest.

If you should see a squirrel when you’re at the park to play,

Don’t be too disappointed if the squirrel darts away.

Watch him hurry, scamper, scurry, for you’ll seldom see him walk.

Perhaps he’s just too busy to take time to stop and talk.

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #30

Poetry Prompt #30

Monty says: I enjoy writing poetry for the opportunity it gives to inspire, challenge or entertain people I may never meet personally. I also enjoy attempting to conquer such constraints as form, meter and rhyme by my choice and arrangement of words in order to produce my own unique response to a theme or prompt. For me it is like tackling a complex puzzle for which there may be many possible solutions, but few that are completely satisfying as an offering to potential readers.