Winter
by Olivia Kooker
If winter was a person she would be a girl with frosty hair.
Winter would wear snow pants snow boots, gloves, a hat and scarf.
Winter would smell like hot chocolate and peanut butter and Hershey Kiss cookies baking in the oven.
Winter would spend the day eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa by a lake.
Winter would spend the night by sitting in the snow waiting for morning so children could come out to play.
Beach BeachBeach
The sun rises higher and higher, like a blossoming flower, as the children play... Beach, Beach, Beach
The crashing waves sound like an invasion…Boom, Boom, Boom
The sand crunches under my feet like cereal in my mouth… Crunch, Crunch, Crunch
The salty water is carried with the wind…Howl, Howl, Howl
The gulls soar higher than the clouds...Swoosh, Swoosh, Swoosh
The child crashes to the ground like a rock slide... Boom, Boom, Boom
The man walks on shells that feel like needles...Crunch, Crunch, Crunch
The dog is angered by the birds... Howl, Howl, Howl
The kite flutters like a butterfly... Swoosh, Swoosh, Swoosh
The afternoon thunder blasts its cannon... Boom, Boom, Boom
Rainforest
By Judith Wright
The forest drips and glows with green.
The tree-frog croaks his far-off song.
His voice is stillness, moss and rain
drunk from the forest ages long.
We cannot understand that call
unless we move into his dream,
where all is one and one is all
And frog and python are the same.
We with our quick dividing eyes
measure, distinguish and are gone
The forest burns, the tree frog dies,
yet one is all and all are one
Winter comes
Red and gold leaves fall,
Crunchy as cornflakes beneath
Feet on a crisp morn.
Frosty webs sparkle
In the early morning sun
Brightly bejeweled.
First few flakes of snow
Dust gardens like icing on
A chocolate cake.
Spring Comes
When the cold, harsh winter has given its last breath,
When the sky above shows life instead of death,
When the claws, reaching to the frozen sky becomes decorated with
leaves,
When the animals-long in hiding- scurry from trees,
We know winter has ended.
When the frost on grass is replaced with sweet dew,
When the fields become dotted with flowers, reminding me of you,
When the lonely silence becomes filled with melodies,
When you feel warm air, erasing bad memories
We know winter has ended.
When the hard, bare ground becomes painted with green,
When the frost-bitten air becomes fresh and clean,
When the coats and boots are all stored away,
When the playgrounds become occupied again with child's play,
We know winter has ended.
When you hear the pleasant sound of children's laughter,
When the air is filled with joy- long sought after,
When the world is filled with sunlight, brighter and longer,
When the song of Mother Nature becomes stronger and stranger,
Spring has begun.
The Pencil Case
The eraser erased my bad habits
While the pencil drew in new ones
The glue stick glued on a whole new face
As the scissors cut away my background and past
The ball point pen then made the changes permanent
While the coloured pencils shaded in my body
The calculator changed my way of thinking
As the sharpener grazed over my rough edges
Finally, the ruler
I had to measure up to your standards
Now me and you
We walk, talk and think the same
Two moving as one
I don't even know who I've become
What I was before
You've changed me more than you'll ever know
Storm At Sea
CRASHING waves... SMASHING seas...
Bringing sailors to their knees.
As they struggle to save their lives
Hoping and praying, help arrives.
The stormy seas as dark as coal,
Preventing the sailors from reaching their goal.
Battered and bruised, but still they fight...
Staring ahead, into the dead of night.
Rocking and rolling as they try to stand...
Hoping against hope, that they soon reach land.
Bleary eyed from lack of sleep.
Down in their cabins, huddled like sheep.
As they're rocking and rolling down beneath
Weary sailors above, resist with gritted teeth.
Hours later, as the storm starts to dissipate,
It leaves a calm tranquil sea in it wake.
The veteran sailors know the battle is over, and they have won...
As contemplate, other storms yet to come...
Natures Way
Upon a nice mid-spring day,
Let's take a look at Nature's way,
Breathe the scent of sweet fresh air,
Feel the breeze within your hair.
The grass will poke between your toes,
Smell the flowers with your nose,
Clouds form shapes within the skies,
And light will glisten from your eyes.
Hear the buzzing of the bees,
Climb the tallest willow trees,
Look across the meadow way,
And you shall see a young deer play.
Pick the daisies as they grow,
Watch a gentle cold stream flow,
Know the sounds of water splash,
Catch its glimmer in a flash.
When altogether all seems sound,
Lay yourself upon the ground,
Take a moment to inhale,
And listen to Nature tell her tale...
Friends
How good to lie a little while
And look up through the tree!
The Sky is like a kind big smile
Bent sweetly over me.
The Sunshine flickers through the lace
Of leaves above my head,
And kisses me upon the face
Like Mother, before bed.
The Wind comes stealing o'er the grass
To whisper pretty things;
And though I cannot see him pass,
I feel his careful wings.
So many gentle Friends are near
Look careful you will see,
A child should never feel a fear,
Wherever he may be.
Eletelephony
~Laura Richards
Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant-
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone-
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee-
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)
Light-years
By Hester Knibbe
It’s a beautiful world, you said,
with these trees, marshes, deserts,
grasses, rivers and seas
and so on. And the moon is really something
in its circuits
of relative radiance. Include
thewingèd M, voluptuous
Venus, hotheaded Mars, that lucky devil
J and cranky Saturn, of course, plus
U and N and the wanderer P, in short
the whole solar family, complete with its
Milky Way, and count up all the other
systems with dots and spots and in
that endless emptiness what you’ve got
is a commotion of you-know-what. It’s a beautiful
universe, you said, just take a good look
through the desert’s dark glasses
for instance or on your back
in seas of grass, take a good look
at the deluge of that Rorschach—we’re standing out there
somewhere, together.
Always Something More Beautiful
BYSTEPHEN DUNN
This time I came to the starting place
with my best running shoes, and pure speed
held back for the finish, came with only love
of the clock and the underfooting
and the other runners. Each of us would
be testing excellence and endurance
in the other, though in the past I’d often
veer off to follow some feral distraction
down a side path, allowing myself
to pursue something odd or beautiful,
becoming acquainted with a few of the ways
not to blame myself for failing to succeed.
I had come to believe what’s beautiful
had more to do with daring
to take yourself seriously, to stay
the course, whatever the course might be.
The person in front seemed ready to fade,
his long, graceful stride shortening
as I came up along his side. I was sure now
I’d at least exceed my best time.
But the man with the famous final kick
already had begun his move.Beautiful, I heard
a spectator say, as if something inevitable
about to come from nowhere was again on its way.
JABBERWOCKY
Lewis Carroll
(fromThrough the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
`Twasbrillig, and the slithytoves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the momerathsoutgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxomefoe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thouslain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twasbrillig, and the slithytoves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the momerathsoutgrabe
What else could this be about apart from a seagull? (metaphor)
Hist
By C.J. Dennis
Hist! ...... Hark!
The night is very dark,
And we've to go a mile or so
Across the Possum Park.
Step ...... light,
Keeping to the right;
If we delay, and lose our way,
We'll be out half the night.
The clouds are low and gloomy. Oh!
It's just begun to mist!
We haven't any overcoats
And - Hist! ...... Hist!
(Mo ...... poke!)
Who was that that spoke?
This is not a fitting spot
To make a silly joke.
Dear ...... me!
A mopoke in a tree!
It jarred me so, I didn't know
Whatever it could be.
But come along; creep along;
Soon we shall be missed.
They'll get a scare and wonder where
We - Hush! ...... Hist!
Ssh! ...... Soft!
I've told you oft and oft
We should not stray so far away
Without a moon aloft.
Oo! ...... Scat!
Goodness! What was that?
Upon my word, it's quite absurd,
It's only just a cat.
But come along; haste along;
Soon we'll have to rush,
Or we'll be late and find the gate
Is - Hist! ...... Hush!
(Kok!...... Korrock!)
Oh! I've had a shock!
I hope and trust it's only just
A frog behind a rock.
Shoo! ...... Shoo!
We've had enough of you;
Scaring folk just for a joke
Is not the thing to do.
But come along, slip along -
Isn't it a lark
Just to roam so far from home
On - Hist! ...... Hark!
Look! ...... See!
Shining through the tree,
The window-light is glowing bright
To welcome you and me.
Shout! ...... Shout!
There's someone round about,
And through the door I see some more
And supper all laid out.
Now, run! Run! Run!
Oh, we've had such splendid fun -
Through the park in the dark,
As brave as anyone.
Laughed, we did, and chaffed, we did,
And whistled all the way,
And we're home again! Home again!
Hip ...... Hooray!
Dreaming on Paper
I don't talk
my lips part, and air pushes out,
but the sound must not fit,
because my thoughts are so big,
so I don't try to talk,
my thoughts must be too good for
words, for the air, for my lips,
but they are just right for paper,
my thoughts flow on paper,
they are just big enough
so I don't talk
I compose
I write
I dream
The sky is low
Emily Dickinson
THE sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.
George Square
byJackie Kay
My seventy seven year old father
Put his reading glasses on
To help my mother do the buttons
On the back of her dress.
'What a pair the two of us are!'
my mother said, 'Me with my sore wrist,
you with your bad eyes, your soft thumbs!
And off they went, my two parents
To march against the war in Iraq,
Him with his plastic hips, her with her arthritis
To congregate at George Square where the banners
Waved at each other like old friends, flapping,
Where'd they'd met for so many marches over their years
For peace on earth, for pity's sake, for peace, for peace.
The Death of Ned Kelly
By John Manifold
Ned Kelly fought the rich men in country and in town,
Ned Kelly fought the troopers until they ran him down;
He thought that he had fooled them, for he was hard to find,
But he rode into Glenrowan with the troopers close behind.
"Come out of that, Ned Kelly," the head zarucker calls,
"Come out and leave your shelter, or we'll shoot it full of holes."
"If you'd take me," says Kelly, "that's not the speech to use;
I've lived to spite your order, I'll die the way I choose!"
"Come out of that, Ned Kelly, you done a lawless thing;
You robbed and fought the squatters, Ned Kelly, you must swing."
"If those who rob," says Kelly, "are all condemned to die,
You had better hang the squatters, for they've stolen more than I."
"You'd best come out, Ned Kelly, you done the government wrong,
For you held up the coaches that bring the gold along."
"Go tell your boss," says Kelly, "who lets the rich go free,
That your bloody rich man's government will never govern me."
They burned the roof above him, they fired the wails about,
And head to foot in armour, Ned Kelly stumbled out;
Although his guns were empty he made them turn and flee,
But one came in behind him and shot him in the; knee.
And so they took Ned Kelly and hanged him in the jail,
For he fought singlehanded although in iron mail.
And no man singlehanded can hope to break the bars;
It's a thousand like Ned Kelly who will hoist the flag of stars.
Joy at the Sound by Roger McGough
Alone in the Grange
By Gregory Harrison
Strange,
Strange,
Is the little old man
Who lives in the Grange
Old,
Old,
And they say that he keeps
A box full of gold.
Bowed,
Bowed,
Is his thin little back
That once was so proud.
Soft,
Soft,
Are his steps as he climbs
The stairs to the loft.
Black,
Black,
Is the old shuttered house,
Does he sleep on a sack?
They say he does magic,
That he can cast spells,
That he prowls round the garden
Listening for bells;
That he watches for strangers,
Hates every soul,
And peers with his dark eye
Through the keyhole.
I wonder, I wonder,
As I lie in my bed,
Whether he sleeps with his hat on his head?
Is he really a magician
With altar of stone,
Or a lonely old gentleman
Left on his own?
Dis Poetry
By Benjamin Zephaniah
Dis poetry is like a riddimdat drops
De tongue fires a riddimdat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed ferantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
It gets into me dreadlocks
It lingers around me head
Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike
I’ve tried Shakespeare, respect due dere
But did is de stuff I like.
Dis poetry is not afraid of going ina book
Still dis poetry need ears fe hear an eyes fehav a look
Dis poetry is Verbal Riddim, no big words involved
An if I hav a problem de riddim gets it solved,
I’ve tried to be more romantic, it does nu good for me
So I tek a Reggae Riddim an build me poetry,
I could try be more personal
But you’ve heard it all before,
Pages of written words not needed
Brain has many words in store,
Yu could call dis poetry Dub Ranting
De tongue plays a beat
De body starts skanking,