A brilliant day to fly my kite,
Where else? But on our beach!
Dad holds it fast, with all his might,
Mum hoists it out of reach!
...
My Mother is not the sort of Mum
who'll squeal and faint and shiver,
Darkness doesn't scare her,
When it thunders she won't quiver!
...
I made a paper airplane,
In class one rainy day;
My best friend wanted it.
but I let it fly away.
...
Granny has a laptop,
its sleek and shiny new;
She gazes at it fondly,
and wonders... what to do?
...
I'll do my homework tomorrow,
I'll complete it in a flash!
I'm going swimming now,
Ma! you should see me splash!
...
T'was days before Christmas, the world was a mess;
Children were doubting, (mine too, must confess!)
They wanted to know now, how Santa could be;
all over the world, in one night, you see?
...
Now, have you ever stopped to think,
Who paints the sky a golden pink?
With strands of mauve and purple blue,
outlined in peach of every hue?
...
A butterfly upon the breeze,
floated to the wind-blown trees;
How it hoped to even dare,
to drift so high upon the air!
...
God is always very busy,
He has lots work to do;
So, He created Teachers,
To help both me and you!
...
With limpid inky pools for eyes,
and wavy hair like watered silk;
Pink coral lips to tantalise,
Skin like fresh strawberry milk.
...
T'was days before Christmas and it didn't seem so,
Cheer and Goodwill, had flown out of the window;
Three precious gifts, were nowhere to be found,
tho' I searched and sought, and looked all around.
...
I'll have another ice-cream please,
flavoured with hot garlic cheese;
With just a dash of chilli sauce,
All covered with strawberry gloss.
...
Children like Sunflowers,
turn to face the sun;
Reflect golden sunbeams,
on each and everyone!
...
The railway tracks gleam silver black,
for miles along its lonely way;
Thundering onslaught in attack,
scattering stones in disarray.
...
How very good yet slightly strange,
that a mind bearing a burden,
When thirsting for reprieve and change,
lets God's will get a word in.
...
India is a patch-work, of every single hue,
Vibrant reds and ochres, and pensive shades of blue;
Skeins of gold light up the sky, when the sun wakes up each morn,
...
When I am tucked up in my bed,
after I say my night prayers;
Ma gently pats my sleepy head,
and we share our daily cares.
...
I baked a bit of bread today,
Seasoned it with herb and spice;
I placed it in the oven tray,
Set the timer to be precise.
...
A Cross on my forehead, in ash,
reminds me of where I will be;
when the years pass by in a flash,
I'll return to the earth, naturally.
...
There's a goblin in my cupboard,
he eats up all my socks;
and just in case you haven't heard,
he lives in the shoe box.
...
Poetry For Children: Flying With My Kite ©
A brilliant day to fly my kite,
Where else? But on our beach!
Dad holds it fast, with all his might,
Mum hoists it out of reach!
It's a beauty of a handmade kite,
of light bamboo tissue paper;
A royal golden eagle sprite,
given to fancy flights of caper!
It soars into the bright blue skies,
Wind borne on capricious wings;
High above the sea it flies,
Me, holding steadfast to its string.
It flies right into a cotton cloud,
It's reaching far and free!
'Let it go! ' laughs Dad aloud,
Mum claps her hands with glee!
Dad helps me let the taut string go,
I watch my kite take flight,
Its proud tail glitters with a glow,
Away and out of sight!
Curious crows investigate,
and squawk in shock surprise!
Cawing in loud racuous debate,
about a bird in such disguise!
I think I'm rather like that kite,
I soar when in free rein;
Free as a bird, in joyful flight,
Heedless of all constrain.
And yet I know that precious string,
held steadfast in His hand;
is what will guide my eye and wing,
safe home to love and land.
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