Poem of the Week 35

The Paint Box

E V Rieu

 

“Cobalt and umber and ultramarine,

Ivory black and emerald green —

What shall I paint to give pleasure to you?”

“Paint for me somebody utterly new.”

 

“I have painted you tigers in crimson and white.”

“The colours were good and you painted aright.”

“I have painted the cook and camel in blue

And a panther in purple.”¬† “You painted them true.

 

“Now mix me a colour that nobody knows,

And paint me a country where nobody goes,

And put in it people a little like you,

Watching a unicorn drinking the dew.”

 

Poem of the Week 34

The Owl and the Astronaut

Gareth Owen

 

The owl and the astronaut

sailed through space

In their intergalactic ship

They kept hunger at bay

With three pills a day

And drank through a protein drip.

The owl dreamed of mince

And slices of quince

And remarked how life had gone flat;

‘It may be all right

To fly faster than light

But I preferred the boat and the cat.’

Poem of the Week 33

The Owl and the Pussycat

Edward Lear

 

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!’

Pussy said to the Owl, ‘You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?’
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

‘Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?’ Said the Piggy, ‘I will.’
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

 

Poem of the Week 32

April Rain Song

Langston Hughes

 

Let the rain kiss you.

Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.

Let the rain sing you a lullaby.

 

The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.

The rain makes running pools in the gutter.

The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night –

 

And I love the rain.