Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category


Who played with a Dangerous Toy and suffered a Catastrophe of considerable Dimensions

by Hilaire Belloc

When George’s Grandmamma was told
That George had been as good as gold,
She promised in the afternoon
To buy him an Immense BALLOON.
And so she did; but when it came,
It got into the candle flame,
And being of a dangerous sort
Exploded with a loud report!
The lights went out! The windows broke!
The room was filled with reeking smoke.
And in the darkness shrieks and yells
Were mingled with electric bells,
And falling masonry and groans,
And crunching, as of broken bones,
And dreadful shrieks, when, worst of all,
The house itself began to fall!
It tottered, shuddering to and fro,
Then crashed into the street below —
Which happened to be Savile Row.

When help arrived, among the dead
Were Cousin Mary, Little Fred,
The Footmen (both of them), the Groom,
The man that cleaned the Billiard-Room,
The Chaplain, and the Still-Room Maid.
And I am dreadfully afraid
That Monsieur Champignon, the Chef,
Will now be permanently deaf —
And both his aides are much the same;
While George, who was in part to blame,
Received, you will regret to hear,
A nasty lump behind the ear.

The moral is that little boys
Should not be given dangerous toys.

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It’s 21 March. Happy World Poetry Day!

Here’s one of our favourite poems:


There's a very funny insect that you do not often spy,
And it isn't quite a spider, and it isn't quite a fly;
It is something like a beetle, and a little like a bee,
But nothing like a wooly grub that climbs upon a tree.
Its name is quite a hard one, but you'll learn it soon, I hope.
So try:

It lives on weeds and wattle-gum, and has a funny face;
Its appetite is hearty, and its manners a disgrace.
When first you come upon it, it will give you quite a scare,
But when you look for it again, you find it isn't there.
And unless you call it softly it will stay away and mope.
So try:

It trembles if you tickle it or tread upon its toes;
It is not an early riser, but it has a snubbish nose.
If you snear at it, or scold it, it will scuttle off in shame,
But it purrs and purrs quite proudly if you call it by its name,
And offer it some sandwiches of sealing-wax and soap.
So try:

But of course you haven't seen it; and I truthfully confess
That I haven't seen it either, and I don't know its address.
For there isn't such an insect, though there really might have been
If the trees and grass were purple, and the sky was bottle green.
It's just a little joke of mine, which you'll forgive, I hope.
Oh, try!

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The Trees Gifts
by Gillian, 11, USA
Tree’s gift
In the spring
Is to give us hope
That warmer days are
Coming.   The tree’s gift in
The summer is to give us a shady
Spot to sit and read a book.  The tree’s
Gift  in the fall is to give us vibrant  leaves
To jump in.   The tree’s gift in the winter is to
Let us admire its glittering ornaments and bright
Lights and to remind us that a new year is beginning.
A tree is
A gift all
Year long.

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Brooklyn Bridge Poem

by Arya, 10, Ridge Road Elementary School, USA

The Great East River Bridge
….John Augustus Roebling designed

Stood up high and tall,
….Held together by iron strings confined

Connecting Manhattan to Brooklyn,
….While in the river swim the fins

As the towers touched the sky,
….The birds soar and fly

The traffic of cars, vans, and buses move on,
….As the conversations on the walkway carry on

In the morning the bridge is a road to success
….At night it takes us home to rest!

Would you like your work to be considered for publication on Alphabet Soup’s blog? Check out our submission guidelines.

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Happy Hallowe’en — here’s a poem to spook your friends!

Windy Nights by Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.
Do you know any other scary or spooky poems good for sharing at Hallowe’en? Tell us your favourites in the comments below!

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Out across the spinifex, out across the sand,
Out across the saltbush to Never Never land,
That’s the way the drovers go, jogging down the track,
That’s the way the drovers go, but how do they come back?
Back across the saltbush from Never Never land,
Back across the spinifex, back across the sand.

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The wind has such a rainy sound
Moaning through the town,
The sea has such a windy sound,
Will the ships go down?
The apples in the orchard
Tumble from their tree.
Oh will the ships go down, go down,
In the windy sea?

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Artwork by Benjamin W, 7, Malaysia

Artwork by Benjamin

I LIKE APPLES by Benjamin W, 7, Malaysia

I like apples.  Apple is one of my most favourite fruits.
There are red and green apples but I prefer red apples.
I like apples because they are sweet and sometimes they are sour.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

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Today is the LAST day of the Soup Blog Poetry Festival.

Thanks to everyone who stopped by the blog to read and listen to poems and meet some of Australia’s amazing children’s poets.

We thought we’d close the festival with one of our favourite poems — ‘Mulga Bill’s Bicycle’ by AB (Banjo) Paterson.

What’s your favourite poet or poem?

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Lorraine Marwood

Lorraine Marwood

Today we welcome Lorraine Marwood to the blog — Lorraine writes verse novels and poetry and you would have read several of her poems in Alphabet Soup!

note on the door (cover)

Stary Jumps (cover)

When did you first start writing poetry?

I began as a teenager, so probably 15 years old, but before that I was writing down ideas and little stories for many years.

What sort of poetry do you like writing best of all?

Poetry that doesn’t rhyme but shows in different ways a moment in time or an emotion, and still has all the strong features of poetry, like rhythm, strongest words, images, sensory details, emotion.

What sort of poetry do you like reading?

Contemporary poetry written by Australians; poems in The School Magazine, NSW; anthologies like 100 Australian poets, so I read many poets in the one book. Also poetry by young writers and I enjoy reading the results of the Dorothea Mackellar poetry competition.

Where can we read your poetry?

I have had six collections of poems published — the most recent one is Guinea Pig town and other animal poems with Walker Books Australia. I’ve had lots of poems published in magazines, here in Australia, UK, USA and Canada. And I always love to be published in The School Magazine and of course Alphabet Soup — well, I wish that was still going.

guinea pig town

Here’s one of the poems from Guinea Pig town and other animal poems:

A peek inside Guinea Pig Town and other animal poems

[click on the image to enlarge it]

How often do you write?

I’d like to say everyday — well I do write but some days its emails, administration or reworking a piece, then other days it’s intense writing, but always I’m thinking about my poems, an idea, a story, what happens next …

Do you prefer to write with a pen and paper or straight onto the computer?

That’s a good question. I like to write poetry with a pen in one of my current notebooks. I often write when traveling or out for the day. I can jot down ideas I see or an idea that strikes. Poetry to me needs this special touch, but for stories I type right onto my laptop.

What’s your number one tip for budding poets?

Keep a notebook you can take with you.  Jot down anything that catches your eye. Train yourself to be observant, because the strongest writing uses those details that others skim over.

Lorraine’s Poetry Prescription

IF YOU’RE HAVING A RUSHING, BUSTLING DAY — read the following poem:

‘Wilderness’ by Carl Sandburg.

To find out more about Lorraine Marwood and her books and poetry, check out her website and read an earlier post featuring Lorraine.

Interview with Lorraine Marwood © 2013 Lorraine Marwood and Rebecca Newman http://soupblog.wordpress.com


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