Poem of the Day

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TOUCHY FEELY

Touchy, feely

Touchy, feely

is it smooth or is it rough

Does it feel soft when you touch it

is it ragged, is it rough.

 

Touchy, feely

Touchy, feely

is it blunt or is it sharp

does it soothe you when you touch it

Does it make your fingers smart?

 

Touchy, feely

Touchy, feely

is it new or is it old

does it warm you when you feel it

Does it make your fingers cold?

 

Touchy, feely

Touchy, feely

Is it slimy like a frog?

No, it’s furry and its cuddly

It’s a brand new puppy dog.

© Allan Cropper
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #28

 

Poem of the Day

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Jimmy

by Pat Simmons

 

This is where we used to walk

On the beach

I collect driftwood

All different shapes and sizes

Jimmy would fetch the small pieces

I smash them against the rock

I pick up some pumice stone

It’s light and scrunchy, like a macaroon

Jimmy was so heavy

Especially when he got wet

I scrunch the pumice stone

It crumbles to dust

I see a rat

It scuttles behind a rock, sinister and sneaky

Jimmy chased rats and barked at them

I touch and tickle the sand with my toes

There are millions of grains – too many to count

Jimmy liked to dig in the sand

I sort some shells

No-one’s living in them now

They’re empty and quiet

Like my place

Coloured glass glitters

Smoothed by the sea water

Mum calls it treasure

She says Jimmy was a treasure

Near the waves seaweed settles

Someone told me you can eat it

Jimmy used to chew it and spit it out

That made me laugh

I discover a dead seagull

Was it old when it died?

I bet Jimmy would roll on it

And come home smelly

A plastic bag floats in front of me

It shouldn’t be here

But I wish Jimmy was

I watch an old man and his dog

Looking out at the blueness

His dog barks at the seagulls

Just like Jimmy

I grin, remembering.

I think I spy sea monsters hiding in the waves

But I am alone.

Or am I?

I’m sure Jimmy’s watching me.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Prompt4

Poem of the Day

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Prompt4

Poetry Prompt #4 inspired Helen Hagemann to submit this selection of poems. Helen says: I have three grand-children under seven years of age (both parents work) and therefore I notice things like towels left on the floor! Also I like subjects that might possibly appeal to children.

The Subject Tonight is Towel

The subject tonight is towel

And from tomorrow night

And days after

Dad has no better topic

For us to discuss

Until we all

Hang up our towel

After showering.

 

Walls

 

Some people love walls.

They keep in yelping dogs,

But never cats or birds.

No one sees them talking at night

Yet walls do talk – to each other.

They compare positions, compositions.

Are they stone, cement or brick?

When they need our attention

They crumble for repair.

In winter a storm will blow them over.

Make gaps for geckos and hens.

Can you see the creatures scurrying

Passing two abreast?

Robert Frost loved walls, and said

They make good neighbours

Especially if they talked,

Had one’s garden trimmed,

Kept apple trees to one side

Pine cones to the other.

 

Do you love walls?

 

 

Leaves

 

There are

So many leaves

 

Each hangs on a branch

In thousands of different ways

Your eyes will see differences

 

Infinite shapes: ovoid, needle

Heart-shaped, linear or pencil

You can draw them green in spring

Paint the tree from where they came

Crinkle a gum leaf for its scent

 

So many leaves

Unfolding and falling

Into your world

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Driftwood

By Sioban Timmer

 

He walks the beach

Collecting driftwood

Calm carries on the sea air,

Hunks of timber now distressed.

Turned by the lathing waves of the salted expanse

 

How enduring they are,

So far from their green beginnings

He inhales and smiles

As the breath escapes he muses

I guess we have a lot in common

 

He will take them in

Find new life in their random forms

They are a seaside distraction

A salty breeze on city days in his urban garden

Serenity obtained in a memory of beachcombing

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Prompt4Sioban says: I like how this poem has a sense of textures – wood, sand, water and the effect that they have on each other.