Poem of the Day

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The Snooze


When Dad’s at the seashore,

This bit he likes best:

After all the swimming,

Take a well-earned rest.

Once lunch is completed,

This is what he’ll choose:

Lying on his towel,

He will have a snooze.


Soaking up the sunshine,

Lying on the beach,

Seeking for a suntan,

Drink within his reach,j

How long he will lie there

None of us can guess.

Asked if he’s still snoozing

He just mumbles:”Yes”.


We return to swimming,

Wait for him to come,

When it doesn’t happen,

We send back our Mum.

Suddenly Mum wakes him:

“Dave, you’re getting hot!

You look like a lobster,

Lifted from the pot!”


Monty Edwards

 Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #15


Monty says: “I considered calling the poem “Redback!”, but in order not to confuse, chose “The Snooze”. Although the poem ends as above, one or both the following verses may be added for didactic purposes.”


Dad forgot to sunscreen:

Didn’t slip, slop, slap;

Left his head uncovered:

Didn’t wear his cap.

Now his back is blistered,

Face is sore and red,

He will struggle sleeping

Even in his bed.


We all learnt a lesson

On the beach that day,

Sunshine is a blessing

When you want to play,

But the sun can hurt you,

If you don’t take care

Best to have protection

With you everywhere.

Poem of the Day

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The first time I saw surf,

Green and high and fringed with white.

A remorseless elemental, rolling

Forever into clean washed sands.


The delights of rock pools and ponies,

Of sand dunes and fishing,

Exploring the limitless space

and the boundless time of holiday.


The first time to catch a fish,

The first time to clean it

And the different taste when

Immediately fried golden brown.


The pale pale bowl of sky;

Where the days were so long

The sun paused and lingered

For untimed hours of dreaming.


And every pink dawn witnessed,

The low sleeping sandbanks rise

Out of the untroubled wash of the sea

And the seagulls shrieking challenge.


A brand new world to explore,

A precious gift, concrete and real,

New washed and promising

Every single morning.


My memories caught in an escape of flight.

Returned to a childhood of sheer delight.


© Margaret Pearce
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7


Margaret said: No bottle in this poem, but the illustration brings up the feeling.

Poem of the Day


Hot Summer


It’s too hot to play,

So I snooze in the shade.

Lazing in the cool

of a massive fig tree.

Nature’s air conditioning.


It’s too hot to play,

So I dive in the salty sea.

Waves tickle me,

refreshing my body.

Nature’s swimming pool.


It’s too hot to play,

So I sit in a sudden breeze.

Cooling my sticky body,

blowing my hair.

Nature’s fan.


It’s too hot to play,

So I eat a fat watermelon.

Refreshing my dry mouth

trickling on my face.

Nature’s most refreshing treat.


Karen Hendriks
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7



Poem of the Day

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Is as hot as buttery toast.

Cooling dips to wash the sticky ickiness away,

Reclining in movies to munch on choc tops,

Chit chatting to friends to stay connected,

Soaking up joyous Summer freedom.


Summer fairs to laugh and whizz and bang on rides,

It’s okay to just be,

Baking hot sun is no fun,

An ancient tree to gaze underneath.


Summer breeze kisses my face,

Sea spray to tickles my salty toes,

Oh how I love the sea.

 Karen Hendriks

Poem of the Day




The sun is warm, the fish are biting

Snapper, squid and shoals of whiting

Ice-cream jingles sound inviting –

Summer’s on its way.


The breeze is up, the current’s running

Tourists bare their legs for sunning

Seagulls stealing chips are cunning –

Summer’s on its way.


The sky is bright, the waves are rolling

Zinc-nosed lifeguards are patrolling

Cricket-crazy kids are bowling –

Summer’s here  – let’s play!

Jill McDougall
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #47


Poem of the Day


Beach cones

by Monty Edwards


The shapes I like are conical. They taper to the tip.

Perhaps you’ve seen some shells like that when going for a dip.

Such shells are very pretty and they’re great fun to collect:

Their range of colours, streaks and spots – much more than you’d expect!


While at the beach you may well see a different kind of cone:

Far bigger, in a lifeguard’s hand, it’s called a megaphone.

Through this his booming voice is heard to call us back to shore.

It’s warning us of danger we’d be foolish to ignore.


When heading home, our swimming done, one final cone I eat.

I’m sure you’ve guessed just what it is, so icy cold and sweet!

Then as I lick the one I pick, my tongue can taste and test.

Of all the cones I’ve ever known, I like an ice-cream best!

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3


Monty says: With no clear direction, I made a list of shapes, along with articles that either embodied them or words that rhymed with them. I wanted to avoid the familiar square/cube and circle/sphere and work with something specific that was less common and also three dimensional. From my list of words and ideas the resources for a seaside scenario emerged featuring the cone.


Poem of the Day

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Cloudless skies

By Sioban Timmer


I lift a hand up to my eyes

While scuffing shoes and shooing flies

Watching the heat cloud wave and rise

As I journey under cloudless skies


The path is long to our home gate

The only traffic, trucks and freight

Frustrating if the mail is late

Meaning yet another day to wait


But not today, I have no fear

I sense it as I’m drawing near

That in that box, with address clear

Today I know, my book is here


Unwrapping it, the cover cold

Embossed with letters nice and bold

What tales are waiting to be told?

What new adventures will unfold?


I lift my hand up to my eyes

Now flying feet and fleeing flies

Watching the heat cloud wave and rise

As I journey under cloudless skies.


  • Submitted in response to Words+Pictures #4



Poem of the Day


A Shelter

Neridah McMullin


I put off going to bed,

The cloud cover,

Keeps the heat in…

And the stillness

Is oppressive.


Robins, wrens, honey eaters,

Panted the day away,

In shaded canopy,

Their beaks open.

Too hot to complain.


I open up the house,

All the doors; windows.

Something might wander in…

But hopefully,

It will wander out.


Thrown wide,

It’s no longer a house.

It’s a shelter,

A secret place.

A bed in the forest.


Under the sheets,

I listen to the night’s music.

Muted waves break,

Crickets click, ruffled feathers soften.

And at last, the birds are asleep.

Poem of the Day


Image courtesy of Rosemary Ratcliff at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of Rosemary Ratcliff at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Ocean Life

by Anna Jacobson


We scrabble over sun

warmed rocks and peer into

rock pools. Small crabs scuttle

sideways, sea anemones wave

and we climb on further- feet slip

in rubber thongs and we glimpse

a squishy sea cucumber, silkworm

soft. In another pool lies a blue starfish.

We race to the ocean to cool our skin,

water so clear we see a large bream flick

its tail and swim off into the depths.