Roald Dahl

(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990 / Cardiff / Wales)

Roald Dahl
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a British novelist, short story writer, fighter pilot and screenwriter.

His parents were from Norway, but he was born in Wales, 1916. The family used to spend the summer holidays on a little Norwegian island, swimming, fishing and going by boat. When Roald was four years old, his father died, so his mother had to organise the trip alone for herself and her six children.

At school, he was always homesick. At St. Peter's Prep School, all the letters home were controlled by the headmaster, and afterwards at Repton Public School, he had to wear a horrible school uniform [with braces, waist coat, hat and lots of buttons, all black]. The younger boys were often punished by ... more »

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Comments about Roald Dahl

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  • S B (5/5/2014 5:45:00 PM)

    Short and sweet poems with touches of humor! Love his poems! one of my favorite poets

  • Federico Granier (10/18/2013 9:30:00 AM)

    My own work as a tribute for Dahl (I am a non-english native speaker, sorry for any mistakes)

    PINOCCHIO – (The Roald Dalh unwritten story)

    An old wood-carver had a wish,
    although he had one cat, one fish,
    he asked a star for bones and skin
    (as a Blue Fairy was coming in)
    to see his puppet like a real boy
    to end his days with so much joy.

    Once inside the fairy said: ,
    (as the old man was in the bed)
    You´ve been so good. You´ll be a dad.
    This wooden puppet´ll be your lad.
    She made Pinocchio come alive
    but in return he had to strive
    to do his best to tell no lies
    and if he needed good advise
    a little cricket could help him out
    if any problem might bring about.
    But he had to make a deal
    if he wanted to become real:
    brave and truthful he should be
    and he would have a new ID.

    From now on, all day, all night
    he couldn´t do anything right,
    he looked for pleasure, fun and fame,
    all of these without an aim.
    Lots of lies everywhere
    not at all being aware
    that his nose grew ever longer
    with each lie it was stronger.

    Till finally one marvelous day
    every crap he threw away
    he saved Geppetto from a whale
    all of them ended up hale.
    Back at home, the Magic Fairy,
    after seeing they were merry,
    said: Pinocchio, as reward
    your wish won´t be ignored
    She gave her wand a mighty flick
    but she started to get sick
    cause the magic didn´t work
    (she turned out to be a jerk)
    The Blue Fairy was a fake
    there was no magic, for god´s sake!
    You can´t imagine what you will hear:
    she was a simple puppeteer!

  • Amy Willows Amy Willows (9/28/2013 6:30:00 AM)

    the cinderella poem is nice at least she didnt marry the prince

  • Amy Willows Amy Willows (9/15/2013 9:21:00 AM)

    our assistant head misteress read us almost all the roald dahl books for an hour and i loved charlie and the chcolate factory and matilda the most

  • Amy Willows Amy Willows (9/15/2013 9:15:00 AM)

    on 13th september the class 3s made an amazing mini concert on all of roald dahls poems it was the best thing they ever did when they celebrated roald dahls b-day since the sschool started

  • Goldheart Bird (9/4/2013 10:31:00 AM)

    I love Roald Dahl! He is amazing poet! And most of his poems are very funny! He is my MMOST favorite poet in all poemhunter!

  • Swagger Mcjagger (1/9/2013 8:54:00 AM)

    His writting has such a swagger to it.

  • Reggie Cheung (12/7/2012 10:43:00 PM)

    He is a super great talented author too. I recommend Matilda. A story about a remarkable girl.

  • Alastair Dawson (9/7/2012 5:59:00 AM)

    To celebrate Roald Dahl Day on the 13th September we are running a special poetry competition based around Roald Dahl's poem 'Mike Teavee'. We are giving some fantastic prizes, to find out more please follow this link
    http: //

    Thank you and we are massive fans here at Tidy Books!

  • John Campbell (4/1/2012 1:04:00 PM)

    I was a substitute teacher years ago. On my first day of subbing I was called to a school with a third grade class missing it's teacher for the day. Apparently, she didn't show up and nobody had any clue where she was. I was called at 8: 05 and class had started at 8: 00.
    In a mad rush I got ready and bolted out the door. When I arrived at school, I was rushed to the classroom of 35 anxious third graders and told, Good Luck! , by the absent minded principal who failed to give me any lesson plans or even a schedule for the day.
    I had no idea what to do. It was my first day in a classroom by myself. I got the children settled down and in their seats. I introduced myself. I glanced around the room. The only familiar thing I saw was a shiny copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the shelf next to me. I grabbed it. I told the children to sit on the floor in front of me. I pulled up a chair. I began reading.
    I read that book to them, with as much animation and expression as I could muster from cove to cover! When Charlie won the ticket, the students had tears in their eyes. When the horrible children were stuck in pipes or blown up into blueberries, the students terrified eyes were in shock and their justice loving souls were delighted. At recess the kids didn't want to go. At lunch they wanted to return early to hear the end of the story, and as if by devine intervention, when I read the last line of the book, and closed the cover, the kids let out a satisfied sigh, smiled for a moment, and the dismissal bell rang.
    I taught no lessons on my first day. I taught no spelling. No math. No history. I only read a book. Cover to cover. By an author that knew what children needed and wrote in a way that children understood and appreciated. It was a great start for a teacher. And I doubt any of those third graders ever forgot the day they were read to for 6 hours.

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Best Poem of Roald Dahl


The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.

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