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Poems about things Next Thursday it's national Poetry-day here in Belgium (and the Netherlands). The theme this year is 'poems about things'. On Thursday though, I'm only teaching Dutch for one hour. The rest of the day I'm teaching English. The level of English is very very low, so I'm looking for some fun easy poems about things. Any suggestions?
Let's say this is something the students will be able to understand: This is just to say I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold William Carlos Williams | |
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SNOWBALL
by Shel Silverstein I made myself a snowball As perfect as could be. I thought I'd keep it as a pet And let it sleep with me. I made it some pajamas And a pillow for its head. Then last night it ran away, But first- it wet the bed | |
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Today is
National Poetry Day Yet another Reason I do not Live in Belgium or the Netherlands Ace | |
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WillyWonka said: SNOWBALL
by Shel Silverstein I made myself a snowball As perfect as could be. I thought I'd keep it as a pet And let it sleep with me. I made it some pajamas And a pillow for its head. Then last night it ran away, But first- it wet the bed Thank you ! This is exactly what I'm looking for ! | |
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Anymore suggestions? It's really a hard search. My knowledge of English poetry is very limited, and typing 'poems about things' in Google just leads me to crappy blogs. | |
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Mrs Moon
Mrs Moon sitting up in the sky little old lady rock-a-bye with a ball of fading light and silvery needles knitting the night Cake i wanted one life you wanted another we couldn't have our cake so we ate eachother. both by Roger McGough | |
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jami0mckay said: Mrs Moon
Mrs Moon sitting up in the sky little old lady rock-a-bye with a ball of fading light and silvery needles knitting the night Cake i wanted one life you wanted another we couldn't have our cake so we ate eachother. both by Roger McGough Thanks ! The first one is certainly useful... | |
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MarieLouise said: jami0mckay said: Mrs Moon
Mrs Moon sitting up in the sky little old lady rock-a-bye with a ball of fading light and silvery needles knitting the night Cake i wanted one life you wanted another we couldn't have our cake so we ate eachother. both by Roger McGough Thanks ! The first one is certainly useful... this one may be too long... The Trouble with Snowmen by Roger McGough 'The trouble with snowmen,' Said my father one year 'They are no sooner made than they just disappear. I'll build you a snowman And I'll build it to last Add sand and cement And then have it cast. And so every winter,' He went on to explain 'You shall have a snowman Be it sunshine or rain.' And that snowman still stands Though my father is gone Out there in the garden Like an unmarked gravestone. Staring up at the house Gross and misshapen As if waiting for something Bad to happen. For as the years pass And I grow older When summers seem short And winters colder. The snowmen I envy As I watch children play Are the ones that are made And then fade away. | |
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Puddin'
I have a little kitty cat Puddin' is her name. She loves to cuddle up with me I love to do the same. She has a coat of soft gray fur And stripes all running through. If you would like to play with her, She would love to play with you. She curls up on my stomach, And she purrs really loud. She is a very loving cat, and she makes me very proud. When she wants me to get out of bed, She lets out a loud MEOW. Oh, I hear her calling me, I have to feed her now ~awe | |
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FreeSpirit said: Puddin'
I have a little kitty cat Puddin' is her name. She loves to cuddle up with me I love to do the same. She has a coat of soft gray fur And stripes all running through. If you would like to play with her, She would love to play with you. She curls up on my stomach, And she purrs really loud. She is a very loving cat, and she makes me very proud. When she wants me to get out of bed, She lets out a loud MEOW. Oh, I hear her calling me, I have to feed her now ~awe Very cute I need poems about inanimate 'things' though. | |
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MarieLouise said: FreeSpirit said: Puddin'
I have a little kitty cat Puddin' is her name. She loves to cuddle up with me I love to do the same. She has a coat of soft gray fur And stripes all running through. If you would like to play with her, She would love to play with you. She curls up on my stomach, And she purrs really loud. She is a very loving cat, and she makes me very proud. When she wants me to get out of bed, She lets out a loud MEOW. Oh, I hear her calling me, I have to feed her now ~awe Very cute I need poems about inanimate 'things' though. I figured that much, after the fact... But it was too cute not too. ~Shoot me. | |
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here is another short poem by shel silverstein, and a few others. i hope you will find a few of them useful.
My Beard by Shel Silverstein "My beard grows down to my toes, I never wears no clothes, I wraps my hair Around my bare, And down the road I goes." ----- What Does the Bee Do? by Christina Rossetti "What does the bee do? Bring home honey. And what does Father do? Bring home money. And what does Mother do? Lay out the money. And what does baby do? Eat up the honey." ----- Roses by George Eliot "You love the roses - so do I. I wish They sky would rain down roses, as they rain From off the shaken bush. Why will it not? Then all the valley would be pink and white And soft to tread on. They would fall as light As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!" ----- The Fish by William Butler Yeats "Although you hide in the ebb and flow Of the pale tide when the moon has set, The people of coming days will know About the casting out of my net, And how you have leaped times out of mind Over the little silver cords, And think that you were hard and unkind, And blame you with many bitter words." ----- The Cow Robert Louis Stevenson "The friendly cow, all red and white, I love with all my heart: She gives me cream with all her might, To eat with apple tart. She wanders lowing here and there, And yet she cannot stray, All in the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day; And blown by all the winds that pass And wet with all the showers, She walks among the meadow grass And eats the meadow flowers." ----- The Rainbow Christina Rossetti "Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier than these. There are bridges on the rivers, As pretty as you please; But the bow that bridges heaven, And overtops the trees, And builds a road from earth to sky, Is prettier far than these." The Wind Christina Rossetti "Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you; But when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I; But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by." ----- Trees Sarah Coleridge "The Oak is called the king of trees, The Aspen quivers in the breeze, The Poplar grows up straight and tall, The Peach tree spreads along the wall, The Sycamore gives pleasant shade, The Willow droops in watery glade, The Fir tree useful in timber gives, The Beech amid the forest lives." | |
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Things
Is a difficult word to rhyme, I guess many words are or we would do it all the time. Perhaps when a phone rings, We think of the things we have to say, Or what we've been doing all fucking day. Excluding the needless details, Like that we took a particularly large shit, Or spilt the milk and didn't clean it. Things can be fun, Unless they kill. Then they're not. | |
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benyamin said: Things
Is a difficult word to rhyme, I guess many words are or we would do it all the time. Perhaps when a phone rings, We think of the things we have to say, Or what we've been doing all fucking day. Excluding the needless details, Like that we took a particularly large shit, Or spilt the milk and didn't clean it. Things can be fun, Unless they kill. Then they're not. | |
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jami0mckay said: benyamin said: Things
Is a difficult word to rhyme, I guess many words are or we would do it all the time. Perhaps when a phone rings, We think of the things we have to say, Or what we've been doing all fucking day. Excluding the needless details, Like that we took a particularly large shit, Or spilt the milk and didn't clean it. Things can be fun, Unless they kill. Then they're not. Oh yes indeed, what a beautiful closer of this thread, Ben ! My lessons worked out pretty fine, my students weren't too enthousiastic, but then again, they're almost never ! And now for some good personal news: yesterday evening I've been asked by another poet to be his guest-poet in his upcoming book ! Pretty good poetry-day for me ! Now enjoy yours, orgers ! | |
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There In the corner - Feb 2008
Use me in the corner, Just fuck me with pointless abandon love, DJ, Crank that stupid beat a thousand times, hand in glove, Suck me off without a care, For who I am or what I desire, Use me in the corner of the dancefloor, Sublimate my past regrets in the goddamned fire! Don't look up lest we suffocate, The dancing minions slither packed like a nest of snakes, lightning in beams of colored lights, cast harsh truths on all faces, sincere and fake, Use me in the corner, Yeah, over there by the guy selling bean, Smoke me till I'm vapor, But do it in the riot of gyrating torsos, so my shame can not be seen. There in the corner. --imago Feb 2008 | |
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My poem about a train...Happy Poetry Day!
“The Train Tracks” A midnight train slips quickly through the countryside Bleeding it’s way all along and onwards Past famous landmarks and known map symbols Fast cutting trees in seconds And turning whole cities into blurs and suddens Creating a way of slicing the moment But finding small time to stop off now and again- To let the passengers work or visit. © 2007 Steven Pottle "There is no such thing in life as normal..." | |
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Wow ! This thread 'poems about things' is becoming a 'poems by orgers'-thread ! Keep it going... I'll keep reading... | |
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stevenpottle said: My poem about a train...Happy Poetry Day!
“The Train Tracks” A midnight train slips quickly through the countryside Bleeding it’s way all along and onwards Past famous landmarks and known map symbols Fast cutting trees in seconds And turning whole cities into blurs and suddens Creating a way of slicing the moment But finding small time to stop off now and again- To let the passengers work or visit. © 2007 Steven Pottle | |
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this poem is for applekisses:
"Mouse to Mouth" One night as I lay trying to sleep I heard in my room a mysterious "squeak!" I'd heard it before - Could it be my neighbors next door? Or perhaps a ghost on my floor? I don't know, but it gives me the creeps. And my cat doesn't care he just sits and stares and waits for more treats of egg cream. So I pull my blankets up under my chin and try returning to my dreams once again when suddenly I feel tiny feet on my bed, running across my face, then up onto my head! A mouse, a mouse! Did you hear me? A mouse! There's a MOUSE on my head! I brushed him away and sat up straight in my ire and demanded he tell why he'd have such desire "Why oh why, Mr. Mouse," I ask "as I try to retire, would you climb 'cross my face and then run towards my mouth?" And in a trembling small voice, my wee foe he replied "So sorry, good sir, but I thought it the door to my houthe!" | |
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WillyWonka said: this poem is for applekisses:
"Mouse to Mouth" One night as I lay trying to sleep I heard in my room a mysterious "squeak!" I'd heard it before - Could it be my neighbors next door? Or perhaps a ghost on my floor? I don't know, but it gives me the creeps. And my cat doesn't care he just sits and stares and waits for more treats of egg cream. So I pull my blankets up under my chin and try returning to my dreams once again when suddenly I feel tiny feet on my bed, running across my face, then up onto my head! A mouse, a mouse! Did you hear me? A mouse! There's a MOUSE on my head! I brushed him away and sat up straight in my ire and demanded he tell why he'd have such desire "Why oh why, Mr. Mouse," I ask "as I try to retire, would you climb 'cross my face and then run towards my mouth?" And in a trembling small voice, my wee foe he replied "So sorry, good sir, but I thought it the door to my houthe!" Very cute. I only don't know what a 'houthe' is. | |
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MarieLouise said: WillyWonka said: this poem is for applekisses:
"Mouse to Mouth" One night as I lay trying to sleep I heard in my room a mysterious "squeak!" I'd heard it before - Could it be my neighbors next door? Or perhaps a ghost on my floor? I don't know, but it gives me the creeps. And my cat doesn't care he just sits and stares and waits for more treats of egg cream. So I pull my blankets up under my chin and try returning to my dreams once again when suddenly I feel tiny feet on my bed, running across my face, then up onto my head! A mouse, a mouse! Did you hear me? A mouse! There's a MOUSE on my head! I brushed him away and sat up straight in my ire and demanded he tell why he'd have such desire "Why oh why, Mr. Mouse," I ask "as I try to retire, would you climb 'cross my face and then run towards my mouth?" And in a trembling small voice, my wee foe he replied "So sorry, good sir, but I thought it the door to my houthe!" Very cute. I only don't know what a 'houthe' is. houthe=house this mouse has a lisp. | |
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WillyWonka said: MarieLouise said: Very cute. I only don't know what a 'houthe' is. houthe=house this mouse has a lisp. It's what I thought, but still Poetic freedom is hard to grasp in other languages... | |
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Where are you taking me?
This hold you have over me Like cattle, wide-eyed Numbed by aversed eyes Light hardly iluminates the present And the future is in the dark The steady thump lulling But the smell keeps me awake Where are you taking me? | |
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MarieLouise said: WillyWonka said: houthe=house this mouse has a lisp. It's what I thought, but still Poetic freedom is hard to grasp in other languages... thats quite so. you know, although i wrote this poem some time ago, ive only realised just now after this exchange with you that the lisp premise would pethaps be better communicated and make more sense if the line read "Tho thorry, good thir, but I thought it the door to my houthe!" so thank you! | |
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I thought this tread was titled "Poems about thighs"... | |
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I brought two home to fill my needs, And lit the room with incense and candles, I fucked a hole to watch it bleed, And downed more bean than most can handle, I slept with 2, and sometimes 3, Just to find a warm safe place, But once the month was over, see The lust of life had drained from my goddamned face, Six years, a tight rope torn asunder, A girl so lost upon her meandering path, Don’t touch me now, in this room ‘o gorgeous blunder, You written on my soul, already, a stone cold epitaph, And you can fuck this hole until it bleeds, And make me search darkness I can’t see, But god will punish us both in his jealousy and greed, Cause he likes it when we’re on our goddamned knees! -Imago Feb 2008 . [Edited 1/31/08 18:37pm] | |
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