Tag Archives: poems for young people

Scoot Scoot by Jeanie Axton

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Scoot Scoot

Said the scooter

Shining in the sun

Time for me

To have some fun

 

Zoom Zoom

Said the scooter

Rider and helmet ready

Today we go fast

But take it steady

 

Whoosh Whoosh

Said the scooter

Down the street

Feet on kickboard

Who can we beat?

 

Zip Zip

Said the scooter

What a fun day

Zooming along

Smiling all the way

 

Jump Jump

Said the scooter

Trying a trick

Up in the air

And down real quick

 

Ring Ring

Said the scooter

A loud ring of the bell

Turn and head back

All is well

 

Yawn Yawn

Said the scooter

I’ve had a big day

Time to go home

Slowly make my way

 

Shuffle Shuffle

Said the scooter

Trudging back to the shed

Time for scooters

To be in scooter bed

 

Snooze Snooze

Said the scooter

Snoring away

Dreaming of tomorrow

Another scooter day

 

 

 

I Can, I Can’t by Lenny McGoo

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 I can, I can’t, the difference is

One tiny little letter

‘won’t use the “T”, or I will be

Worse off, instead of better

 

But if I say “I can, I can”

My confidence will soar

And hope will come my way because

I opened up its door

 

“I can, I can!” will make me brave

My thinking it will change

And pocketsful of obstacles

Will vanish down the drain!

 

And if I cultivate “I can”

“I can’t” will sound so weird

And soon I’ll wonder where they went

Those things that I once feared

 

 

Feathers Fur or Fins by Robyn Youl

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Vertebrates are covered

In spikes, feathers and scales

Most mammals wear fur

Skin covers humans and whales

 

With skeletons covered

In scaled skins.

Fish breathe under water

And glide with their fins.

 

With skeleton covered

In thick armored plates

Eyes and nose above water

The crocodile waits

 

With skeleton covered

In skin soft and cool

Tadpoles become frogs

In creek, river and pool.

 

With hollow skeletons

And fragile feather

Birds swoop and soar

In flocks together

 

With skeletons covered

In thick fur or fine hair

Bats, seals and elephants

Share earth water and air

 

Poem of the Day

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Polite Pause

 

Prawns,

floating commas in

the tidal way of things,

eyes bulging the full stop

as the net drops.

 

We complain

sweet morsels are

a pain to peel,

much like meaning in

conversation over dinner.

 

Just don’t forget

to take the rubbish out.

 

Dead prawns like tide and time

wait only for

the exclamation mark.

J.R.McRae

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #25

Poem of the Day

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Atonement

 

Coast of Normandy,

France, Omaha Beach.

Today the tide is out –

barely a ripple.

Cement bunkers and bomb craters

merge into the grass,

haunted

 

by d-day, June ‘44.

Wave after wave, forward or drown,

nowhere to go but falling.

Mangled tanks, body parts.

Blood on the tide.

Exploding cliffs.

 

Now the guns are sold for scrap,

the bodies collected,

laid in neat rows

in the cemetery above,

 

under white marble crosses,

so precisely placed

that if I kneel I see one –

if I stand I see thousands.

 

Oceans of crosses.

I read along the rows –

Name: Regiment: Hometown:

Creep soundlessly, with sickened awe.

Is sleep a just reward?

 

The Pool of Remembrance:

waterlilies soften its sharp angles,

wisp of a breeze ruffles the reflection

of chiselled words on the monument above.

 

Can the sacrifice be softened?

Can the past be put to rest?

 

In the distance the gardener kneels,

shears in hand, cutting the grass,

blade by blade. Around one cross

then on to the next –

and on and on and on.

Glenys Eskdale

Glenys said: I wrote this poem after visiting the Colleville, the American war cemetery at the site of the d-day landings in Normandy in June 1944. I have since visited World War One war cemeteries on the Somme in France. My sentiments have not changed. Nothing can atone for the unspeakable horrors these men endured.

 

 

 

 

 

Art Class by June Perkins

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 For Vincent Van Gough’s  ‘The  Starry,  Starry Night’

 

Outlines crash into swirls

Miss Del Amico asks, what do you see?

Is that a sky of blue curls?

Outlines crash into swirls

Time to dive for some pearls

Will I find this painting’s key?

Outlines crash into swirls

Miss Del Amico asks, what do you see ?

 

 

Poem of the Day

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I’ve been roaming through the ruins

Finding the foundations

Sifting through the centuries;

The nativity of nations

 

A pantheon of the powerful

Creating colosseums

Stones torn from a temple

The remnants of religion

 

Even obelisks from Egypt

Claimed from Cleopatra

by Romulus and Remus

Are repurposed by St Peter

 

I’ve been roaming through the ruins

of Mankind and his motions

Sifting through the centuries;

The nativity of notions

Walter de Jong

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #34

Poetry Prompt #34

 

Walter said: When I was in Rome I was struck by the juxtaposition of elements from ancient to modern times that could be seen and the evidence and influence of shifting political and religious tides through time; Egyptian, Greek, Jewish and Christian side by side, layer on layer in the exposed strata.

Poem of the Day

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Vicious Circle

It came without a warning

just before the dawning;

we found ourselves surrounded,

hunted down and hounded,

by a vile and vicious circle

with malevolent designs.

 

We were mystified and curious.

Why was this shape so furious?

and though we were confounded

we knew that we were grounded,

trapped by a selfish circle

in its πr 2 confines.

 

This painful circumscription

was dire beyond description.

It was injury compounded

with insolence unbounded.

We had to teach this circle

the harshness of its crimes.

 

We explained that such division

was a mean and cruel decision

and keeping us impounded

was evil and unfounded.

The ideal perfect circle

has no real borderlines.

Kate O’Neil

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

Prompt3

Poem of the Day

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Ode Rage

I push my pen around the page,

it pushes back and sneers.

When I incur a paper cut –

I cry, the paper jeers.

 

A face appears upon the page –

a horrid, mocking troll.

Now my chair collapses

and I’m truly on a roll.

 

My pen falls down beside me.

I’m sure I hear it speak.

It mutters, ‘Feelin’ lucky, punk?’

I answer, ‘Feelin’ weak’.

 

Dead lines are sneaking up on me,

like zombies, clawed extended.

My brain is full of jellybeans –

the jar has been upended.

 

My Muse is out to get me

and I’m filled with angst and fear.

I send regards from Writer’s Hell,

be thankful you’re not here.

Bill Condon
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

Prompt5

 

Poem of the Day

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WHO SHOT SOOTY?

by Joanne Pummer

 

Who shot Sooty?

”I did,” cried Ellie. ”With a little gun

I shot Sooty.”

 

Who found  the gun?

”I did,” said Ellie. ”In my Mummy’s purse

I found the gun.”

 

Who squeezed trigger?

”I did,” sobbed Ellie.

”I squeezed the trigger.”

 

Why did you squeeze it?

”I wanted to play.

That’s why I squeezed it.”

 

Who heard the shot?

”I did,” said Mum.

”I ran and I ran when I heard the shot.”

 

Who bought the gun?

”I did,” said Dad.

”I bought the gun.”

 

Why did you buy it?

”To keep us all safe.

That’s why I bought it.”

 

Who saw the blood?

”I did,” said James.

”I saw Sooty’s blood.”

 

Who kissed his forehead?

“I did,” said James.

”I kissed his soft black fur.”

 

We hugged and we cried when they carried off Sooty.

 

”Wait,” said the gun.

”I shot Sooty. With my little bullets

I shot Sooty.”

 

Did you scream, did you shout when the shot rang out?

Did you cry, did you call when you saw Sooty fall?

 

”No,” said the gun.

”I’m not like you.

I only do what I was made to do.”

 

Author comment: I wrote Who Shot Sooty?’ on the spur of the moment when I saw in a news item that the National Rifle Association in the US have written a children’s book.