Poem of the Week 38


Michelle Magorian


Rush, rush, rush, rush,

Do we have to go so fast?

In a hurry, in a hurry,

Does it matter if we’re last?

Quick, quick, quick, quick,

My forehead and my ankles ache.

Speedy, speedy, speedy, speedy,

Can’t we stop and have a break?

Run, run, run, run,

We can catch another bus.

Purr, puff, puff, puff,

No breath left at all in us.

Slow, slow, slow, slow,

Things to look at while we wait.

Chat, chat, chat, chat,

It’s much nicer being late.

Poem of the Week 37

Take a Poem

James Carter


Why not take a poem

Wherever you go?

pop it in your pocket

nobody will know


Or take it to your classroom

stick it on the wall

tell them all about it

read it in the hall


Take it to the bathroom

tuck it up in bed

take the time to learn it

keep it in your head


Take it for a day trip

take it on a train

fold it as a hat

when it starts to rain


Take it to a river

fold it as a boat

pop it in the water

hope that it will float


Take it to a hilltop

fold it as a plane

throw it up skywards

time and time again


Take it to a postbox

send it anywhere

out into the world






Poem of the Week 36

The Planets

David Greygoose


In the middle

is the Sun,


Then comes Mercury

number one.


Venus next is number two,

and then a planet spinning blue:


The Earth, our home,

is number three.


Look through the stars,

what do we see?


Red desert Mars

is number four


Of all the planets,

then there’s more.


Jupiter is number five

after that we will arrive


At Saturn’s rings

for number six.


Moving on

we quickly slip


To Uranus at number seven

out there in the misty heaven.


Then Neptune waits

at number eight:


So all the planets make a line

and Pluto’s last at number nine!

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.

Poem of the Week 31

Loveliest of Trees

A.E. Housman


Loveliest of trees, the cherry now

Is hung with bloom along the bough,

And stands about the woodland ride

Wearing white for Eastertide.


Now, of my three score years and ten,

Twenty will not come again,

And take from seventy springs a score,

It only leaves me fifty more.


And since to look at things in bloom

Fifty springs are little room,

About the woodlands I will go

To see the cherry hung with snow.