This is my playground for poetry written for children with ideas and inspiration for writing your own poems. Come on in. Sit for a spell, have a cup of words to swirl around and make your own cup of poetry. I'm so glad you are here. I hope you'll find the Kingdom of Poetry a fun place to be.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Progressive Poem


The poet doesn't invent.  He listens. --Jean Cocteau

It is finding the truth, no need to lie. 
It's munching on watermelon and letting seeds fly. 

It's a letter that comes with a card in the mail. 
It's the lacy silver threads left by a garden snail. 

It's daffodil trumpets covering the hill. 
It's a deer at the creek, drinking her fill. 

It's giggling and laughing and being absurd. 
It's reading a haiku and feeling each word. 

 It's a dragon who blows flames, loud and hardy. 
It's fairies in the garden having a tea party. 

It's the sound of a truck shifting its gears. 
It's the feel of two soft puppy ears. 

It's a bright sun rise and glowing moon shine. 
It's a Carolina wren singing in a Lob-lolly pine. 

It's a snowman rolled on a cold winter morn. 
It's crows calling from tall tasseled corn. 

 Each day during April, I will add a line to this poem. If you'd like to suggest lines, please leave your suggestions in the comments below.

Sorry I'm late today.  It is a busy Saturday and I should have taken care of this last night, but you know how Fridays are.  I hope you are having a great weekend.


I found a little quail egg
in the gravel by the pond.
When I picked it up I found
part of it was gone.

I brought the egg
into the house
and blew the insides out.

I set it on the counter
to let the egg dry out.
I thought about that little egg;
it never grew to much.
I hoped that mother quail
would try to double clutch.

    Do you know what double clutch means?  It has nothing to do with cars and shifting gears in this poem.  A group of eggs that a bird lays is called a clutch of eggs.  When the eggs are removed, sometimes the bird will lay another set of eggs.  This is double clutching.  So my poems is saying, I hope the mother quail lays another set of eggs.  I have no idea who moved the egg to the edge of the pond.  I wonder if it could have been a packrat, or a larger bird.  I'm going to have to do some research to find out.  Next, I'm going to have to see if I can boil some of this information down to a haiku.  I'll let you know if that works out.

    Your challenge for today is to write a poem about a bird, perhaps you can make it a persona poem.  How do you think are reacting to the end of winter?  Have fun writing.

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