Events and brief moments from the past can often, unexpectedly, inspire a poem. As here:
A young girl
with a ponytail
delves in her toybox
too deep to see
what her hand
She pulls out
a forgotten toy
screams, flings it
away from Mrs Potato Head
© Celia Warren 2015
And sometimes a drawing, too:
Did you know that I have another website dedicated to one specific aspect of childhood memories: toys? It’s my Virtual Toy Museum. If you are interested in toys from the past, do please visit.
Do you like riddles? See if you can solve this one.
If you enjoy riddles and lots of other kinds of word puzzles, then you’ll love my book of Word Puzzles from Schofield and Sims, in which this rhyme appears.
Click on the link above to look inside the book.
He doesn’t bring her chocolates,
nor yet a grand bouquet,
but he kind-of wines and dines her,
as that’s the robin’s way
of showing her he loves her;
he’ll feed her when she broods,
he’ll fetch her worms and grubs and seeds,
yes, all her favourite foods.
And when the chicks are hatching,
their helpless beaks held wide,
he’ll help her feed the babies, too;
he’s telling her they’re tied
as one: a pair, together
as long as each survives:
they’re birds of a feather,
sharing busy, caring lives.
poem © Celia Warren 2015
Yes, the male of this pair of robins is feeding the female. This suggests that their nest is built and the eggs will fill it within days. After that, the adults will take turns to feed the young in a hectic 2-3 week schedule. This summer they will have two or three broods, so I guess picking the right partner is quite important.
Meanwhile, let’s hope we all enjoy a visit from the Easter Bunnies, bringing …
If chocolate’s your bag, happy feaster,
Then the bunnies will bring you, at least, a
Few chocolately eggs
On their hoppity legs,
And some savoury hens’ eggs for Easter.
limerick © Celia Warren 2015
If you like poems, drawings and paintings of British birds and other wildlife, then the book for you is The RSPB Anthology of Wildlife Poems. It’s worth its weight in gold.
You can’t take worms on holiday,
They’re not inclined to travel.
Even Mr Woolly Worm
Declares he might unravel.
And as you head through Customs
They might search through your cases
And confiscate your earthworm
On a ‘foreign soil’ basis.
It’s best to leave your worms behind
With homely soil to sift
And, as you do for special friends,
Bring home a lovely gift.
poem © Celia Warren 2015
This is a new worm poem, so it doesn’t appear in Don’t Poke a Worm till it Wriggles but you will find lots more squirmy poems in its pages.
I wonder if you can guess what gift I brought home for Woolly Worm, and where I’ve been on holiday?
What a fun time we had in Plymouth yesterday at the City Museum and Art Gallery! Were you there? If so, do you remember this poem? Snails may be slow, but this poem’s quick to learn: