Tag Archives: poems for the classroom

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

Time Travel

 

The train left the station-

clickerty clack

the wheels gained motion-

clickerty clack

we then passed paddocks

of bones and dust

broken tractors, covered in rust

The train didn’t notice-

clickerty clack

but we did, with the notion

 

The train rambled on- clickerty clack

I nodded off- clickerty clack

And dreamt of the life

centuries before

of ladies’ long dresses

dusting the floor

The train didn’t notice-

clickerty clack

and my bonnet, shielded mine eyes

 

The train pulled into the station

C . L . I . C . K . E . R . T . Y

I woke with a jolt

 

I grabbed my laptop

and mobile phone

that enables connection

while travellers roam

The train didn’t notice, clickerty clack

on its timeline, to the future

Julie Cahill

It was serendipity when Julie’s poem happened to turn up in my in box ahead of my ‘Travelling’ poetry prompt. It also slots in nicely with an earlier prompt.

 

Poem of the Day

1 Comment

Pretty Cities

Pretty cities love their trees.

We know they help prevent disease

by trapping poisons found in air

from fumy cars that drive round there.

 

Green-leaved cities cool things down.

Those leafy air-cons make no sound

evaporating water while

providing shady streets with style.

 

Tree-lined cities seem to manage

heavy rain and water drainage.

Tree roots tend to drink-up well-as

leafy crowns form umbrellas.

 

Pretty cities need their trees.

From wind-chimed leaves and shadowed ease

to joys of birdsong’s many keys.

So cities, please don’t lose your trees.

Celia Berrell

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Celia said: In leafy suburbs and shady streets, gentle giant trees do more than simply add a splash of green to a city’s stony setting. I’m grateful for those city trees.

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

The Spell

 

Four metres tall

or possibly five metres!

It stares at us

with one red eye

as we approach.

 

We pause,

held by its gaze,

not daring to move forward;

not wanting to retreat.

 

People join us,

but they go no further than we

as if hypnotised

by that same red eye.

 

Click, click, click . . .

 

Suddenly, the red eye disappears

and we are free

to go safely

across the busy road.

 

The little green man

has broken the spell!

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13

Monty says: “The prompt had me thinking of traffic lights, which seemed very mundane for a simple rhyme, so I felt I’d recast it to inject some drama using a bit of imagery and free verse.”

Poem of the Day

1 Comment

 

Phineas McGonagall

Phineas McGonagall was very strange indeed,

For the manner of his feeding and for where he kept his feed.

Upon his head, he wore a wig of lamington and cheese.

His beard was full of ‘little boys’ that dangled to his knees.

Among his friends I must say there were many most disgusted:

And so would you be if you knew just where he kept his custard.

To critics Phiny simply smiled and said, ‘Now look here sonny!’

Stamped a dusty boot from which erupted blue gum honey.

‘With a narnie in me pocket and some damper in me daks,

I’m never short of tucker as I tred life’s sandy tracks.

From Alice Springs to Zanthus I have never ‘ad the munchies.

-Thanks mostly to me grundies where I keep a stash of crunchies!-

And I betcha when I cark it and am carried out feet first,

The tinnies in me pocket slake the undertaker’s thirst!’

Alys Jackson

 

  • Alys is a regular contributor to The School Magazine and has just won the 2017 Award for Poetry at the Henry Lawson Festival of Arts. 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

Moon

 

Moon, I know

you’re rather fickle –

not long ago

you were thin as a sickle

 

but look at you now –

It’s night’s high noon

and you’re fat and full

as a blown balloon.

 

Moon, your face

is made of light

and you hang like hope

against the night,

 

waxing, waning,

sometimes gone,

always changing,

moving on.

 

©   Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #16

Poem of the Day

4 Comments

The Feely Bag

 

What’s inside the feely bag?

Please tell us what you feel.

 

A slimy, slippery frog perhaps,

That makes you squirm and reel.

 

A ragged, worn-out kitchen sponge,

That’s squelchy, smelly, wet.

 

Or Cody’s wriggly garden worms,

The biggest he could get.

 

Do bristles scrape your fingertips,

When lifting something up?

 

Is it a nailbrush, Stickle Brick,

Some Velcro in a cup?

 

It may be soft with rubber wings,

And live inside a cave.

 

A tingly touch might make you scared

To guess you must be brave.

 

Lynette Oxley

 

  • In response to Poetry Prompt #18

 

Lynette said: I wrote about preschool children who are willing to put their hands in a Feely Bag and guess what the contents might be. This activity promotes language development.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

5 Comments

River Run

 

Run river run:

sIlver over stones

riVer sobs and moans;

briEf gleam in the sun:

riveR run and run.

 

 

Run River run

rapId to the seas;

riVer leap with ease,

tEasing just for fun:

River run and run.

Jaz Stutley

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #19

 

 

Poem of the Day

2 Comments

Why  

 

“Why?” as a child is a popular word.

It shows that we want to know more of our world.

And sometimes we learn

some incredible things:

 

Like why the sky’s blue

and what is a gnu

and how you can catch

the measles and ‘flu.

And back in the past

how much harder life was

because of the things

that nobody knew.

 

It’s part of our nature to want to know why

despite that the answer’s a truth or a lie.

And sometimes we learn

some incredible myths:

 

Like why Santa comes

only once a year.

And when will the Easter

Bunny appear.

Descriptions of monsters

that cause us great fear.

And how crystal balls

make everything clear.

 

While we’re a child, all answers seem true

(until we get older and think them all through).

But even as adults we frequently find

it’s not always easy to change our mind!

 

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17

Celia said: Got a question?  Nowadays we can look for answers on the internet any time 24/7.  But how can we tell if the information we find there is true or false?  That’s another question!

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Moonbeams

 

The Sun is a star

that is burning bright.

Like a furnace

that gives off heat and light.

 

Like a beacon

emitting sunshine rays.

Like a torch in the sky

changing nights to days.

 

The Moon is a sphere

made of silent rock.

That orbits the Earth

like a cold round block.

 

No furnace or beacon.

No torch to run.

Those moonbeams have come

from the headlight Sun.

 

The Moon doesn’t shine!

It reflects instead.

Like cat’s-eyes at night

on the road ahead.

 

Like the glint of the Sun

on a tranquil lake.

Like your sparkling eyes

when a smile you make.

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #16

Poem of the Day

1 Comment

A Certain Platypus

 

There was a certain platypus

He lived in five mile creek,

Who (prompted by the latest trend)

Went vegan for a week.

 

He tried butternut pumpkin cubes

And purple eggplant too.

He prodded peas with spoon and fork

And sipped hot mushroom stew.

 

He crunched on juicy celery,

Gave artichokes a try,

Sautéed leafy silver beet,

And munched on broccoli.

 

No doubt the fare was healthy,

But it mostly went to waste,

For those nutritious vegetables

Just didn’t suit his taste.

 

So he returned to worms and such

To bugs and shrimp so fine,

And left the vegetables to us;

Omnivorous mankind.

 

Lynelle Kendall
  • Inspired by Poetry prompt #9