Tag Archives: Monty Edwards

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High Tea

 

When pelicans are flying low,

With open beaks they say “Hello”

To any fish they gladly see

That could provide a tasty tea,

For like a furry flippered seal,

They do enjoy a fishy meal.

 

So after taking time to greet,

These hungry birds prepare to eat,

(While under beaks, there hangs a store

For extra, should they want some more).

Then up they rise to sail the sky:

Their beaks too full to say “Goodbye”!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #28

Poetry Prompt #28Monty says: I wanted to get both greetings and goodbyes into a single poem, but the result promised to be rather long. I tried using a short telephone call for content, but wasn’t satisfied with the outcome, so contrived a brief encounter of familiar creatures at the seaside.

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Winter: A Child’s Guide

When the wind howls through the trees;

When you fear your feet will freeze;

When dark clouds obscure the sun;

Know that winter has begun.

 

Now’ s the time the days seem short;

Now a cold can soon be caught;

Now more frequent rain will fall;

It’s just winter  – that is all.

 

Thunderstorms may come and go;

On high mountains there’ll be snow;

Frost may form upon the grass:

This is winter. It will pass.

 

Winter’s time for active play.

Grab your gear without delay!

Put your boots on! Join your team!

Soon much warmer it will seem!

 

If you’d rather play inside,

Indoor games wait to be tried.

With your family or a friend,

Boredom soon will quickly end.

 

Start a hobby and collect.

Fix a toy that someone wrecked.

Solve a puzzle. Draw or paint.

Clean your room. Your Mum will faint!

 

Drink hot chocolate by the fire.

Read an author you admire.

Whether you’re a girl or boy,

Don’t miss out on winter joy!

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #15

Poetry Prompt15

Author Comment: My aim in the poem was to help children think positively about winter, since despite its drawbacks and discomforts, these are temporary and the season still offers many opportunities for real enjoyment.

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The Happy Cricket

 

There was once a little cricket,

Who was happy as could be.

He was chirpy before breakfast.

He  was chirpy after tea.

He was chirpy when the sun rose

He was chirpy when it set.

When it comes to being chirpy,

No more chirpy could you get!

 

At one time when he was chirping

As the sun came up at dawn,

He was hopping through the flowers;

He was jumping on the lawn;

But, quite suddenly, a sprinkler

Shot him with a shower of spray

And he didn’t feel like chirping

Till the sprinkler went away.

 

Now this jolly little cricket

Really  loved to have a dance,

He would look around for partners

When he ever had the chance.

They would waltz around the kitchen;

They would jig right down the hall.

Where they really kicked their heels up

Was the weekly cricket ball!

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #23

Poetry Prompt #22

Monty says: Lacking inspiration, I tried imagination and hit on a cricket ball!

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Winter Picnic

 

One picnic with my family I would rather now forget,

Since it started with a thunderstorm that left us very wet.

We ran like rabbits to the car and tried to eat our lunch,

But our sandwiches were soggy and our biscuits lacked their crunch.

 

We aimed to keep the rain out so we wound the windows up,

But that just made them foggy. Then I dropped my half-full cup!

My parents weren’t too pleased with me as anyone could tell

And then the baby filled the car with a most awful smell!

 

At last we saw the rain had stopped, so quickly we got out.

Mum changed the baby’s nappy. It was then Dad gave a shout.

“Oh no, we’ve run over a nail!” He’d found a tyre was flat.

So we weren’t going anywhere till he had dealt with that.

 

While Dad was working on the wheel, I got my brand new ball.

I kicked it high into a tree, but it refused to fall!

So then I said: “I’ll climb the tree and shake the football down.”

But Mum said: “You’ll do no such thing” and stopped me with a frown.

 

I didn’t want to lose the ball, but what would you have done?

It looked as if I’d have to save to buy another one.

Just then a teenage boy came by. He said: “Leave it to me.”

At once he climbed up to the branch and shook the football free!

 

I tried to catch it as it fell, but Mum caught it instead.

She didn’t catch it in her hands. It landed on her head!

I thought it wasn’t wise to laugh in case she was upset.

She’d told me not to bring the ball. I hoped that she’d forget.

 

When finally Dad changed the tyre, he said: “It’s time to go.

Those heavy clouds are coming back. The journey will be slow.”

I moaned: “An hour here’s not enough. We need some time to play!”

But Mum declared: “Your Dad is right. Let’s come another day.”

 

Although this time our picnic didn’t seem much fun at all,

We did arrive home safely and I still had my new ball.

The baby now is chuckling and we’re by the fire and warm.

It still was an adventure, even with the winter storm.

 Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #24

Poetry Prompt #24Monty says: Some picnics are memorable for the wrong reasons, but even if not exactly enjoyable they can still supply some interesting and humorous experiences.

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The Visitor

 

A witch flew through my window! I saw her on her broom.

One starry night, down moonbeams bright, she rode into my room!

I cried out to my mother. “A witch came in!” I screamed.

She softly said: “No, no, my dear, believe you me, there’s no witch here.

It’s just something you dreamed.”

 

I wanted to believe her. I’d had a nasty fright.

I said: “Please lock the window, Mum, or I won’t sleep tonight.”

Once Mum had turned the window key she tucked me back in bed.

“No need for you to worry then, no witch can frighten you again,”

My mother calmly said.

 

When Mum had left and dimmed the lights, I tried to close my eyes,

But found I still felt wide awake, though that was no surprise.

Quite suddenly I heard a noise!  A scratching mouse or rat?

Then, while I lay there quiet and still – a dark shape on the window sill!

The witch’s jet black cat!

 

Monty Edwards

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Poetry Prompt 22

Monty says: The black cat, moon and starry night turned my thoughts to witches and their significance for children. The open window provided a point of entry for the narrative and the focus then became developing a suitable rhyming scheme to carry the narrative to its conclusion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Rubik Remembered

 

Once a clever man named Rubik

Made a puzzle that was cubic.

Lots of people went to buy it.

Some just couldn’t wait to try it.

 

All six faces, full of colour,

Made the other toys look duller!

Red and yellow, blue and green,

Orange, white, could all be seen.

 

Every face’s shape was square.

Cubes are like that everywhere.

Length and width and height the same:

Like the dice used in a game.

 

Nine small squares on every face

In each large square had a place.

These could twist in groups of threes

To a different face with ease.

 

Here is what you had to do:

Make one face completely blue,

Or perhaps choose green or red,

Orange, yellow, white, instead.

 

Then the rest, till one by one,

Every single colour done!

Few could do it. Most could not.

I was in that second lot.

 

Monty Edwards

Poetryprompt#21

Monty says: The brightly coloured boxes in prompt 21 reminded me of Rubik’s puzzle, but the content is a better fit with “Shapes” from prompt 3. Prompt3

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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

 

 

  •  Poetryprompt20Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #20

Monty says: My thoughts went from the prompt’s golden flower, to a flower pot to hold it and so to the pot of gold. This gave me the rainbow, which with the snail in the picture, provided the story line.

 

 

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Sweet Treats

 

Here’s a list of special treats I’m sure you’d love to eat.

You might want to add some more to make the list complete:

 

Marvellous marshmallows, yielding and chewy;

Soft-centred chocolates, so creamy and gooey;

Fabulous fairy floss, wispy and sticky,

(Keeping your face clean’s especially tricky!);

Honeycomb crunchy and boiled lollies brittle:

None of this easy to stop at a little.

 

Yes, truly this sweet stuff is lovely to taste,

But too much is bound to add weight to your waist.

There’s one further warning: I’ll keep it quite brief.

Make sure that you never stop cleaning your teeth!

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Prompt4

Author Comment: Connecting texture with food provided the belated inspiration for this poem, with sweets in particular of great interest to children (and not a few adults).

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The Prowler

by Monty Edwards

 

Do you see

the prehistoric prowler

lurking among the leaves

eager to devour

some helpless victim

insufficiently alert

to impending catastrophe?

You need neither fear

nor flee from

this reptilian rogue

for I find him exposed

as a harmless lizard.

  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #8

Prompt8

Author Comment: Guessing, but being unable to precisely identify the creature pictured in the prompt, I decided to use its identity as the basis for my poem.

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Words for Birds

by Monty Edwards

 

I have a cockatoo named Bert. I’m teaching him to talk.

For years the best that he could do was simply screech and squawk.

He made the most unpleasant sounds – I had to walk away.

I wondered which words would be best to get my Bert to say.

 

“A dictionary might help,” I thought, but that was clearly wrong:

To read right through a dictionary would take me far too long!

In any case, some words I found, I didn’t want to use,

Since words I couldn’t say myself were not the ones to choose!

 

My teacher knows a lot of words, but when I went to ask

What she’d suggest to be some words for such a tricky task,

The teacher only shook her head. “I really wouldn’t know,” she said.

That night before I went to bed, I thought to ask my Dad instead.

 

My Dad said: “Why not ask your Mum? If you want words, then she’s the one!”

So off I went to find my Mum, but words for birds? She gave me none.

Mum said: “Now son, it’s getting late. It’s time for bed!” Those words I hate.

It seemed I must accept my fate. To get her help I’d have to wait.

 

I went to bed. What could I do? I hoped that sleep might bring a clue.

A word. Just one. Perhaps a few. If only wishes could come true!

 

***

 

Next day I had a great idea. The place to start became quite clear.

The word was one Bert often heard and perfect for my noisy bird.

Perhaps you’d like to try to guess the word that brought me such success?

Before your brain begins to hurt, I’d better tell you. It was . . .  “Bert”.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #10

Prompt10

Author Comment: The idea for this poem came from “squawk” as a rhyme for the prompt word  “talk”. Then, as I began to write, the ideas kept coming and determined the final destination.