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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Moonwatch

We’re studying the moon –

drawing it, remembering all the moons

we’ve ever seen.

 

Just now, through the window,

there’s a daylight-moon looking fragile,

egg-shell soft, pale white.

 

I’ve no plans to go up there

whizzing through the  blue,

landing on the pearly moon.

 

But I can’t stop thinking

about a blood-orange full moon

I saw inching up

 

into the summery sky.

It moved so slowly,

became a golden balloon

 

that never hurried.

I wanted to follow it,

catch it. But I never did.

 

© Katherine Gallagher

 

(Published in Read Me, (Macmillan, 2009, ed. Gaby Morgan)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

poetry-prompt-3

 

Poem of the Day

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Inspiration                                          

The artist saw a landscape;

It inspired him to paint.

 

The poet saw her painting;

It inspired him to write.

The musician read the words,

And wrote a melody to match.

 

The dancer heard the song,

And it inspired them to dance!

Lynelle Kendall

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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).

Poem of the Day

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Strike away the days

By Sioban Timmer

 

Strike away the days

In strokes sharp and purposeful

Cut them down like old growth forest

The calendar boxes, the tree rings of our lives

With each slashing mark of pen to page

Screaming out the passing time

Strike away the year

Remove the tired dog eared pages

Cast aside events and tasks of yesterday

Carefully raise and hang the New Year high

Crisp and clean like the dove and olive branch

A new beginning in each blank square.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #14

Poetry Prompt 14

 

Poem of the Day

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THE TRAIN   

by Anne Bell

Past houses,trees and grazing sheep,

I race and rock and sway

and I say to the track of strong, firm steel

that likes the sound of a hurrying wheel,

I’ll soon be back,

be back,

be back.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13.

PoetryPrompt13

Author comment:  Goodness gracious me…this was first published in The School Magaz Circa Yonks AD when that journal was edited by Lilith Norman and still in black and white mode.

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Imagining the Life of an Earwig

by Helen Hagemann

 

Leave a door open long enough

and an earwig will enter. The kitchen

is the most popular to travel in.

Among insects a decision is made

(those of different species)

not to touch or pass by in the hallway.

An ant and earwig might come together

and part, safe in the knowledge

that when one leaves another arrives.

It’s the past meeting the future

simultaneously.

Whichever direction an earwig goes,

it will be one fast step

from the swish of a dog’s tail,

or the pounce of a cat’s paw.

Outdoors, earwigs forage in drains, leaf litter.

They love the chemistry of winter air,

the heavy crash of rain, a blue sky when it stops.

Sometimes you find an earwig sleeping between

the sheets of the morning newspaper,

although a quick flap or roll

over discarded scraps

can be fatal.