Tag Archives: poems for children

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Unlocked

 

A wooden case from days gone by,

Was found in Castle Cove by Kai.

The case was worn, the timber stressed,

Inside old coins? We guessed with zest.

 

The number twenty-five was writ,

A symbol, £, preceding it.

Is this a clue? Can’t wait to see,

A treasure trove for Kai and me.

 

A rusty handle, latch and hinge,

Accompanied by mouldy tinge –

Did fill the air with damp and must.

I held my breath and gave a thrust.

 

The lock was picked and thrown away,

And parchment lifted to display –

Some invitations to a show,

With royal insignia inked below.

Lynette Oxley
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #12

 

Lynette said: Although the crate reminded me of a vintage ammo box, I wrote about an alternative possibility.

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I NEED TO WALK

 

I need to walk each morning because there’s a horse that waits for me to rub its nose.

Though whether I stay five minutes or an hour,

I can never rub away its loneliness.

 

I need to walk so I can talk to a white dog that prowls in endless circles,

forever haunted by a chain, that cuts us both.

Bill Condon

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

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MY GRAN’S PLACE

 

My Gran’s place is an unchanging one

And I always visit when horridly glum.

She doesn’t go in for changing trends

Of fashion, hairdo’s or marital friends.

 

Everything’s the same, as long as I’ve known

The clock in the hall, the old fashioned phone.

She opens her door with a welcoming smile

And says ‘Hello love, come in for a while.’

 

Mum’s moved to a flat, small but not cosy,

Door to door concrete, and neighbours nosy.

No bike riding, skateboarding or making a noise

Pets not allowed, and they hate little boys.

 

Sometimes I go to stay with Dad

but after a while I start to feel mad.

A fresh new start, my stepmother said

And threw everything out, even my bed.

 

The kitchen’s never messy with cooking,

Everything’s tidy and modern looking.

The back verandah is now a study,

With nowhere to leave anything muddy.

 

Gran’s furniture’s shabby, and I like it a lot,

A smoking wood stove, and soup in the pot.

The broken down stool in my favourite nook

The bookshelf that has my very first book.

 

An expensive video game sits at home,

But it doesn’t compensate for nights alone.

Dad takes me fishing and for drives galore

(He never acted like this before!)

 

My Gran’s world is warm and friendly,

Nothing there is ever trendy.

I love to visit when feeling blue,

And pretend that my world’s unchanging too.

 

Margaret Pearce

Previous published in House of Sprouts (OUP 1988) and Positive Words (May 2008)

 

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Rain

 

Pelting: washing

the windows

rinsing roofs

rolling mud and stone

downriver

pushing earth

into sea

pulling grass

tree bush creeper

moss

out of dirt

pushing trees over

running

walking

tiptoeing

balancing in the air

stamping its feet

escaping from thunder

rushing headlong

dripping down

lightning’s white path

 

Jennie Fraine

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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.

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TAKEAWAY LUNCH

Way up north where the orchids grow, where the coconut palms sway to and fro,

There’s a croc! Beside a rock! And he’s looking for something to eat!

Way up north where the rainforests grow, where the stars at night are all aglow,

There’s a crocodile with a smarmy smile and he’s hunting for a tasty treat!

Way up north where the sea winds blow and the pace of life is lovely and slow,

There’s a scaly beast looking for a feast, not that you’d ever know.

For he lurks in the creek and he takes a peek, but he never makes a sound.

He’ll quietly seek (he’s such a sneak) whatever meal can be found.

And all you can see if you look carefully are his watchful yellow eyes.

He’s disguised you see as a gnarled old tree as under the water he lies.

Down for drink, not stopping to think, here comes his hapless prey,

Right on the brink as its feet start to sink and it can’t keep this monster at bay.

As the prey takes the plunge, there’s an almighty lunge and the croc has his lunch for the day

And he smirks for he knows that as meal-seeking goes, there’s nothing like takeaway!

 

Ann Budden

 

 

 

 

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Whiz Kids

 

Kate’s the quickest in our class

At working fractions out,

Wayne’s a whiz at Mental Maths,

He doesn’t mess about.

 

Tran’s a turbo-jet on skates,

But Polly owns the pool,

She swims the 100 metres

Like a fish on rocket fuel.

 

Sam’s a super sprinter,

Always first across the line,

Jess is quick to say, “Well done,”

And give the thumbs-up sign.

 

Chen’s a champ at cleaning up,

He empties every bin!

Emmy’s quickest with a joke,

And William’s quick to grin.

 

Me? I’m the lazy, laid-back type,

I like to take things slow,

But when Ms Mark says, “Class dismissed,”

Well, you should see me go!

 Jill McDougall

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Winter Ablutions

 

Spider walks with shivery legs

to the edge of his dew-laden home, then waits –

perched on the bottom thread.

His white web of winter droplets

absorbs the morning sun.

Crouch

spring up

balance back on thread

hold tight.

Dew drops fall and spider

enjoys his morning shower.

Clean.

 

Caroline Tuohey
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

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On Your Marks

 

I’ve turned into jelly.

I don’t have the strength.

My stomach is stuck in my throat.

Why did I say I could swim a whole length?

I don’t even know how to float.

My goggles are loose,

should have tightened the strap.

What if they happen to leak?

And what if my bathers just suddenly snap?

I’ll be laughed at the rest of the week.

What if I don’t make the end of the race?

What if I give up all hope?

I’ll never be able to lift up my face

if I have to hold onto the rope.

My stomach is churning,

I’m still feeling bad,

I’m freezing… and there goes the gun!

I’m kicking,

I’m splashing,

I’m swimming like mad.

Will I make it?

I have!

And I’ve won!

 

Jenny Erlanger

First published in “Giggles and Niggles” (Haddington Press, 2007)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13

Jenny said: I was always a very nervous competitor in school swimming sports and dreaded the sound of the starting pistol.

 

 

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THE ECHIDNA

An echidna passed across a track

heading towards a special snack.

 

A naturalist muttered, ‘What a turn!

about this creature, I’ve got to learn.’

 

He kneeled to take a closer look

the echidna swung with strong right hook.

 

And it was such a heavy clout

it nearly knocked the watcher out.

 

The echidna curled into a prickly ball

snarling, ‘I don’t like you at all.’

 

The naturalist cried and mused upon

what it was that he’d done wrong.

 

He only wanted to see first hand

the weirdest creature in the land.

 

The echidna uncurled and stalked away

grumbling at his ruined day.

 

And idiots too dumb to know

you always let echidnas go –

 

About their business digging holes

and eating ants from salad bowls.

 

Or snuffling around a great big mound

Where tasty termites are always found.

 

To spare echnida watchers’ pain,

the moral of this tale is plain.

 

Always remember it’s very rude

to keep echidnas from their food.

 

Margaret Pearce