Polar Bear by Karen Hendriks

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Polar Bear

Big, powerful white bear,

Lives in Arctic cold,

Strong, firm, white,

Covered in protective fur,

Black eyes, sharp claws,

Hungry belly,

That gnaws away all day.

 

This snowy white land,

That was once your friend.

Is melting away earlier,

Freezing up later.

Struggling to hunt seals.

You need to travel further and further

 

Less sea ice

More walking

More swimming

How far will you have to go?

Only the weather knows

 

Lucky you are strong,

But who knows for how much longer?

Will there still be a place in the Arctic Cold for you?

Or will you just disappear into nowhere?

Karen Hendriks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Will Be Brave by Jessica Nelson

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I Will Be Brave

 

I will go into the three bears’ house

I won’t be frightened like a mouse.

I will eat porridge from a spoon

I won’t fear that they’ll be home soon.

I will sit in this tiny chair

Just to show that I don’t care.

I won’t be scared and I won’t run—

But listen, look out, here they come.

I will perhaps have some concern,

The porridge has made my tummy turn.

I hear a stamping at the door,

I hear great footsteps on the floor.

I won’t dawdle, I need to hide!

Look, a bed, I’ll jump inside.

Flatten myself under the blanky

Hope the bears aren’t feeling cranky.

I will be quiet, I won’t shift

I will not toot or I’ll be sniffed.

I will sneeze, I just can’t stop it!

They’ve heard me now, I’d better hop it

Papa Bear, Mama Bear and little Wee

Have no porridge and might eat me!

I’ll quit this window (second floor)

I won’t come back here anymore.

Jessica Nelson

Roaming Through the Ruins by Walter de Jong

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I’ve been roaming through the ruins

Finding the foundations

Sifting through the centuries;

The nativity of nations

 

A pantheon of the powerful

Creating colosseums

Stones torn from a temple

The remnants of religion

 

Even obelisks from Egypt

Claimed from Cleopatra

by Romulus and Remus

Are repurposed by St Peter

 

I’ve been roaming through the ruins

of Mankind and his motions

Sifting through the centuries;

The nativity of notions

Walter de Jong

 

 

Walter said: When I was in Rome I was struck by the juxtaposition of elements from ancient to modern times that could be seen and the evidence and influence of shifting political and religious tides through time; Egyptian, Greek, Jewish and Christian side by side, layer on layer in the exposed strata.

Pickled Peppers by Jenny Erlanger

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Pickled Peppers

 

Polly Packer picked a pile of pickled peppers

outweighing the paltry peck that Peter chose.

Poor Peter Piper’s paused his pepper picking

and all he picks at present is his nose.

Jenny Erlanger

Jenny said: The prompt word, “pickle” reminded me of the famous old tongue-twister involving Peter Piper and his pickled peppers.   The challenge was to find enough new words starting with “p” to retain a tongue-twister character.

 

What a Pickle by Melanie Hill

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What a Pickle

Peter Peckle…

Peter Piper picked a peckle…

If Peter pickled peppers picked…

I’m in a pickle that Peter Piper picked
and I can’t un-pickle this peckled pipple.
And why would Peter Piper pick a peck of pickled peppers
when pickled peppers are so repulsive?

Melanie Hill

Melanie said: My family were having some fun with tongue twisters just before this writing prompt came out. After the kids were feeling frustrated with all the mistakes they were making, they came to the conclusion that pickled peppers would be disgusting, and this justified not being able to recite Peter Piper.

Help! by Glenys Eskdale

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HELP!

 

Balanced on the end of a twig,

raging river below,

tree canopy above,

can’t climb back,

mustn’t fall down.

 

halfway between:

earth and sky,

falling and stuck,

alive and dead.

 

need nerves of steel,

a sharp brain,

monkey muscles.

 

this boy buccaneer

should have eaten

that basin of spinach,

broccoli and seaweed,

 

or he should never

have followed

his fog-brained idea

to climb this tree

in the first place.

 

Glenys Eskdale

 

 

 

The Mystery Box by Monty Edwards

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The Mystery Box

 

My lunch for school’s a mystery box and here’s the reason why:

I cannot guess just what’s inside, however hard I try.

There’s something different every day: Mum treats it as a game.

The only thing I’m sure about: no day will be the same.

 

If Monday’s roll has Vegemite, then Tuesday’s might have jam.

A sandwich made for Wednesday’s lunch might well be beef or ham.

On Thursday then, a salad wrap could be the big surprise,

But one school lunch on Friday something shocking met my eyes:

 

My mystery box was oozing with a greenish-yellow trickle!

There must have been a mix-up with Dad’s favourite: cheese and pickle!

While Dad enjoyed my peanut paste spread on his bread with honey,

My sandwich had an awful taste. Don’t laugh. It wasn’t funny!

 

Monty Edwards

Monty says: I didn’t like pickle at all as a child and would have been horrified to find it in my school lunch.