A gloomy glazier
went up a glacier
to have a look at the snow.
Without any haze
he could cast his gaze
over the icy flow.
Then down the mountain
like a freezing fountain
the ice began to travel.
Down they came,
glazier and glacier —
a mess you couldn’t unravel.
Photo by Pixabay
There is no magic rainbow, no pot of gold,
no endless pleasure, in spite of what we’re told
but there’s actually something better, manageable and right.
There are handfuls of happiness, pockets of delight.
There is:
the glimpse of a blue wren hopping through the trees;
a snatch of sweet music caught on the breeze;
the smile of a neighbour; the wave of a friend;
the book that you’re reading you don’t want to end.
There is:
the person in the supermarket who lets you go ahead
in the longest queue ever and you’ve only got bread;
running into friends you haven’t seen in a while
an ice-cream in a café, a laugh and a smile.
There is:
the mist on the river on a cold winter’s day
the man who says good morning as you both go on your way
the old friend who calls; the new friend you meet
the bustle of people moving up the street.
There is:
the gaze of your dog, eyes soft and brown
the first forget-me-not peeking through the ground;
the start of a holiday, a walk on the sand;
the breeze in your face, the touch of a hand.
There are handfuls of happiness, times that just feel right
and we welcome every moment, those pockets of delight.
Photo from Pexels by Javon Swaby
After 60 years of drawing
his nose was all but blunt
So our famous Mr Squiggle
went on a sharpener hunt
He took his rocket to the moon
with Blackboard and Miss Jane
They found a big red sharpener
and his pencils sharp again
Have you ever wondered
why we have two ears —
they’re very nice,
one on each side —
but why do we have
only one mouth?
I asked a man called
Epictetus who said:
“We have two ears
so we can listen
twice as much as
we speak.”
Now, I wonder what he meant by that?
Teacher’s note: Epictetus was one of the great Stoic philosophers. This quote could stimulate a class discussion.
Photo from Pexels by Yan Krukau
Giggy Gilbert had a horse,
he didn’t have a cart.
He had to blow a whistle
before the horse would start.
The horse was deaf and couldn’t hear,
So Giggy, in despair,
Picked it up in both hands
And carried it everywhere.
i see a ball,
and i hear scurrying, nearby.
and then a trundling
thing, in the tall grass, who’s smiling at me,
and then the thing
pushing the ball from motionless.
i see, now, the feet
of the thing, pushing the ball,
edging it, moving it
quicker and quicker,
through the grass,
spinning, loping, disappearing…
Poor Jasper McGore,
by a creek for a while,
fell asleep, didn’t see
the huge crocodile.
Those mighty jaws
opened big and wide,
swallowed him whole,
but Jasper inside
tickled its tongue,
made it open one jaw,
and out climbed one half
of Jasper McGore.
Photo by Sebastien Varin on Unsplash
I wanted to write a poem about Sunday,
simply because it rhymed with Monday.
But then it was Tuesday,
I struggled all day,
and all Wednesday I waited
with breath abated,
and decided that Thursday
would be my verse day!
But no words came to mind,
I got really behind,
now it’s Sunday again
and I’ve lost my pen…
Teacher’s note: “To wait with bated breath” is a very common phrase. Bated is short for “abated”. It is never spelled “abaited”, because bait refers to hunting and trapping.
Hello, puppy, what’s your name?
Where did they find you?
Have you come to live at my place,
or are you passing through?
I got here first, I make the rules,
so set them in your head:
never ever eat my food,
and don’t sleep in my bed!
What’s a haberdasher?
Is it someone who runs fast?
No, it’s not, so let me tell you
about this shop that you walk past.
A haberdasher runs a shop
that sells haberdashery.
Things for sewing, things you won’t see
in a salmon hatchery.
Needles, threads, wool and yarn,
material by the metre —
that’s the stuff that Mum will buy
when haberdashers greet her.
Teacher’s note: In America, haberdashers sell men’s clothing!
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
