Tag Archives: poems for children

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Will I? Won’t I?

Our senses are detectives

 

I hear a kettle boil and click.

I see the steam rise soft and thick.

I sense that kettle’s very hot.

Will I touch it?  NO I’ll not.

 

I see green mould upon the fruit.

I touch it and it feels too soft.

I smell the scent of yucky rot.

Will I taste it?  NO I’ll not.

 

I feel the raindrops on my skin.

I smell the dampness closing in.

I see the lightning on the hill.

Will I hear it?  Yes I will.

 

I see the smoke and bonfire blaze.

I feel its warmth upon my face.

I hear the crackling spits and spills.

Will I smell it?  Yes I will.

 

I hear a mossie’s whining flight.

It stops.  And then I feel a bite.

Will I see it? Not at night.

Will I squash it?  Yes I might!

Celia Berrell

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

Celia said: If asked to do something, people may say YES and then change their mind.  I tend to say NO first-up, THEN change my mind!  Which way round will it be for you?

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment
????  ????

 

Five

four

three two wonder.

Count down to question, speculate, think.

Imagine and ponder, let your mind wander

down winding pathways right to the brink.

Over the edge is the not knowing dark

but out there you’ll find

the spark!

the spark!

 

Penny Szentkuti

 

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17

Penny said: I am teaching a unit on space at the moment and indeed pondering on how much we don’t know and how we have to be brave and imaginative enough to spend time in the ‘not knowing’ to make new discoveries.

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Snowflake Nucleation

 

Fabulous flecks

of feather-white fluff

gracefully fall

from a frozen sky.

 

But moisture and cold

aren’t quite enough

to make water droplets

solidify.

 

Most of those freezing

flakes of snow

use something alive

on which to grow.

 

Those Jack Frost patterns

will only start

when a microbe lies

at a snowflake’s heart.

Celia Berrell

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #28

Celia said: Fleeting, gentle, cool, melting … there’s something delightful about feeling the caress of a snowflake on my face. I can see all those rosy cheeks in the wintery weather down south. Love that snow!

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

All about Muck

 

Have you ever been to Muck?

Or to the island of Eigg?

Perhaps you’ve been to Rum?

No, I’m not pulling your leg!

 

Three islands lost in the mist,

Just off the West Scottish coast.

That’s where you can eat haggis

Or black pudding served on toast.

 

Houses dot the lonely coves

Where sea eagles swoop and call,

And when the gale comes howling

You’ll see nobody at all.

 

Muck and Eigg and Rum, oh aye,

Three little worlds of their own.

So hop onto the ferry,

And you too can call them home.

James Aitchison

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

A SNAIL LEFT A TRAIL

One sunny afternoon

on the footpath

near my home

a snail left a trail

of green and blue and black

which grabbed the attention

of both the art world and

the snail community

more and more snails

began to leave their

own winding trails of

every colour and hue

and soon there was

an abstract masterpiece

stretching all the way

from the hills to the city

which was front page news

all around the world

Glen Ewing
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

No

 

No is a magical word.

It has power.

No means I am in control.

I don’t have to be a people pleaser.

 

It’s good to say no.

But don’t overuse it.

Or you’ll end up all alone.

Use no wisely.

 

No is one of the first words you learn.

It’s mightier than two letters.

Don’t throw it around just anywhere.

No used at the right time gives you a happy heart.

 

Karen Hendriks

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

Gorilla in the Kitchen by John Williams

Leave a comment

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

If Clouds Were Beds

If clouds were beds then I would sleep
upon a cloud that’s soft and deep.
A cumulus cloud, that’s its name,
though as a name it’s rather lame
because it doesn’t make you think
of fluffy clouds in which you’d sink
into their white caressing sheets,
nor how you’d lie and dream of treats
or winning that important game,
so, bed-cloud is a better name.

If clouds were cars then I would race
a wispy cloud, high up near space.
A cirrus cloud is what they say-
that doesn’t seem a place to stay
behind the wheel and speed around
a track that’s high up off the ground.
I want a simple name that shows
a cloud that goes and goes and goes,
a cloud that’s fast and fun to use
so, car-cloud is the name I choose.

If clouds were homes then mine would be
one stretching far as you can see.
A stratus cloud is what it’s called,
but that name doesn’t say it’s sprawled
across the sky- a wide, flat field,
where there’d be ample space to build
a house, with rooms for everyone,
a garden where we’d play and run,
and even an enormous shed,
so, I call those home-clouds instead.

 

Kristin Martin

(Previously published in Orbit (The School Magazine), Issue 9, October 2016.)

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Drawing A Memory

 

How do you doodle?

Leafy-shapes or people?

Zigzag sharp

or swirly soft.

Spirals, squares or circles?

 

Why do we doodle?

Feeling tense or troubled?

Trying not to

go to sleep.

Puzzled, bored or muddled?

 

Doodling while listening

prevents our mind from wandering.

It helps to pen

a drawing-hook.

But NOT in someone else’s book!

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #25

Celia said: What’s the point of doodling?  Well it turns out that, rather than being a distraction, it can help us focus!  So go ahead – use your super-doodle power.  (My favourites are curls and swirls.)