Poem of the Week 14

Literacy Hour

By Clare Bevan

 

So let’s make this clear,

An ADJECTIVE is a

DESCRIBING WORD …

(The long, winding, deep, dark, gloomy, secret

Tunnel leads under the

The cold, bare, windy, wet, empty

Playground to the

Wild, wonderful, sunny, exciting, outside

World.)

 

And a NOUN, of course,

Is an OBJECT, a SUBJECT,

A THING …

(If only I had

A glider, or a private jet, or a space rocket,

or a hot-air balloon, or a time machine,

I Could fly away to

The seaside, or the zoo, or a forest, or Egypt,

or Disneyland, or Anywhere-But-Here.)

 

A VERB, as we all know,

I hope,

Is a DOING WORD …

(I could run, or race, or tiptoe, or clamber,

or catapult, or dance, or whirl, or just walk,

My way to freedom.)

 

And an ADVERB tells you

Exactly how the action

Is done …

(Joyfully, happily, noisily, silently, timidly,

bravely, desperately, frantically, urgently,

Nervously, wistfully, longingly, dreamily,

Someday,

Sometime,

Soon.)

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Poem of the Week 13

Eletelephony

Laura Elizabeth Richards

 

Once there was an elephant,

Who tried to use the telephhant –

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.)

How’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!)

 

 

Poem of the Week 12

On the Ning Nang Nong

Spike Milligan

 

On the Ning Nang Nong

Where the Cows go Bong!

and the monkeys all say BOO!

There’s a Nong Nang Ning

Where the trees go Ping!

And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.

On the Nong Ning Nang

All the mice go Clang

And you just can’t catch ’em when they do!

So its Ning Nang Nong

Cows go Bong!

Nong Nang Ning

Trees go ping

Nong Ning Nang

The mice go Clang

What a noisy place to belong

is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!

Poem of the Week 11

In Flanders Fields

 John McCrae

 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

 

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

 

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.