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The Purple Cow
The Purple Cow
By: Gelett Burgess
I never saw a purple cowI never hope to see oneBut I can tell you here and nowI’d rather see than be one
Contributed by: Alex and her Mom
Contributed by: Emma
Awakening
Awakening
By: Jean Cocteau
Grave mouths of lions Sinuous smiling of young crocodiles Along the river's water conveying millions Isles of spice How lovely he is, the son Of the widowed queen And the sailor The handsome sailor abandons a siren, Her widow's lament at the south of the islet It's Diana of the barracks yard Too short a dream Dawn and lanterns barely extinguished We are awakening A tattered fanfare
By: Angelina
The Sitter
The Sitter
by: Shel Silverstein
Mrs. McTwitter was the baby-sitter I think she's a little bit crazy. She thinks a baby-sitter's supposed To sit upon the baby.
Contributed by: Ivan
We never know how high we are
We never know how high we are
By: Emily Dickinson
We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies— The Heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the Cubits warp For fear to be a King—Contributed by: Sarah and her Mom
Now We Are Six
Now We Are Six
By A. A. Milne
When I was One,I had just begun.When I was Two,I was nearly new.When I was ThreeI was hardly me.When I was Four,I was not much more.When I was Five,I was just alive.But now I am Six,I'm as clever as clever,So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.Contributed by: Ernest and his Mom
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By: Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound’s the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.
Contributed by: Alya
Contributed by: Franci
A minor Bird
A minor Bird
Poem by Robert Frost
I have wished a bird would fly away,and not sing by my house all day;Have clapped my hands at him From the doorWhen it seemed as if i couldBear no more.The fault must partly have bin in me.The bird was not to blame for his key.And of course there must be something wrong in wanting to silence any song.
Contributed by: Lukas
лукоморье
лукоморье
By: Alexander Pushkin
У лукоморья дуб зелёный;Златая цепь на дубе том:И днём и ночью кот учёныйВсё ходит по цепи кругом;Идёт направо - песнь заводит,Налево - сказку говорит.Там чудеса: там леший бродит,Русалка на ветвях сидит;Там на неведомых дорожкахСледы невиданных зверей;Избушка там на курьих ножкахСтоит без окон, без дверей;
Там лес и дол видений полны;Там о заре прихлынут волныНа брег песчаный и пустой,И тридцать витязей прекрасныхЧредой из вод выходят ясных,И с ними дядька их морской;
Там королевич мимоходомПленяет грозного царя;Там в облаках перед народомЧерез леса, через моряКолдун несёт богатыря;В темнице там царевна тужит,А бурый волк ей верно служит;
Contributed by: Daniel
The Road Not Taken
The Road Not Taken
By: Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.
Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-road-not-taken-by-robert-frost
Contributed by: Christina
I married a monster from outer space
I married a monster from outer space
By: John Cooper Clark
I fell in love with an alien beingWhose skin was jelly, whose teeth were greenBig bug eyes, death ray glareFeet like water wings, purple hairI was over the moon, I asked her back to my placeAnd then I married the monster from outer spaceThe days were numbered the nights were spentIn a rent free furnished oxygen tentWhen a cyborg chef served up moon beamsDone super rapid on a laser beamI needed nutrition to keep up the paceWhen I married the monster from outer space
We walked out tentacle in handYou could sense that the earthlings would not understandThey'd go nudge nudge when we got off the busSaying it's extra-terrestrial not like usAnd it's bad enough with another raceBut stuff me a monster from outer space
In a cybernetic fit of rageShe slid off to another ageShe lives in 1999With her new boyfriend a blob of slimeEach time I see her translucent faceI remember the monster from outer space
Contributed and adapted by: John and his Dad
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
Contributed by: Miriam
Sam, Who Only Ate Jam
Sam, Who Only Ate Jam
by: Kenn Nesbitt
There was a boy whose name was Sam.The only thing he ate was jam.When offered any other food,he’d claim he wasn’t in the mood.He’d say, “I’m fairly full today,”and push that other food away.And so he never tasted pie,or gave spaghetti sauce a try,and even if you asked him, “Please?”he wouldn’t chew on cheddar cheese.He couldn’t stand potato chips.Bananas never crossed his lips.And not a bit of beef or lambor deviled egg or candied yamwould wind up on his dinner plate,for jam was all he ever ate.
Now, as it happened, late one daypoor Sam expired. He passed away.We don’t know why. It might have beensome mineral or vitaminwas missing from the food he ateand caused this clearly awful fateor maybe all that sugar madehim fall to pieces, start to fade,until the day that eating jamat last became the end of Sam.
We can’t be certain why he diedbut, maybe, if he’d only triedsome yogurt or some celery,a piece of toast, a pear, a pea,a pizza crust, a grain of rice,a half an herb, a single spice,a spoon of soup with just one clam,then, maybe, we would still have Sam.
Alas, he never ate a grapeor chocolate bar or Belgian crepeor lobster bisque or Irish stewor sauerkraut or cheese fondueor casserole or sloppy joe,so this is all we’ll ever know:Since jam was all he had to eat,his life was rather short and sweet.
Now, as it happened, late one daypoor Sam expired. He passed away.We don’t know why. It might have beensome mineral or vitaminwas missing from the food he ateand caused this clearly awful fateor maybe all that sugar madehim fall to pieces, start to fade,until the day that eating jamat last became the end of Sam.
We can’t be certain why he diedbut, maybe, if he’d only triedsome yogurt or some celery,a piece of toast, a pear, a pea,a pizza crust, a grain of rice,a half an herb, a single spice,a spoon of soup with just one clam,then, maybe, we would still have Sam.
Alas, he never ate a grapeor chocolate bar or Belgian crepeor lobster bisque or Irish stewor sauerkraut or cheese fondueor casserole or sloppy joe,so this is all we’ll ever know:Since jam was all he had to eat,his life was rather short and sweet.
Contributed by: Noyan and his Mom
The Three Little Pigs
The Three Little Pigs
By Roald Dahl
The animal I really dig,Above all others is the pig.Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,Pigs are courteous. However,Now and then, to break this rule,One meets a pig who is a fool.What, for example, would you say,If strolling through the woods one day,Right there in front of you you sawA pig who'd built his house of STRAW?The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,And said, 'That pig has had his chips.' 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!''No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!''Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'
The little pig began to pray,But Wolfie blew his house away.He shouted, 'Bacon, pork and ham!Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!'And though he ate the pig quite fast,He carefully kept the tail till last.Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.Surprise, surprise, for soon he notedAnother little house for pigs,And this one had been built of TWIGS!
'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!''No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!''Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'
The Wolf said, 'Okay, here we go!'He then began to blow and blow.The little pig began to squeal.He cried, 'Oh Wolf, you've had one meal!Why can't we talk and make a deal?The Wolf replied, 'Not on your nelly!'And soon the pig was in his belly.
'Two juicy little pigs!' Wolf cried,'But still I'm not quite satisfied!I know how full my tummy's bulging,But oh, how I adore indulging.'So creeping quietly as a mouse,The Wolf approached another house,A house which also had insideA little piggy trying to hide.'You'll not get me!' the Piggy cried.'I'll blow you down!' the Wolf replied.'You'll need,' Pig said, 'a lot of puff,And I don't think you've got enough.'Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.The house stayed up as good as new. 'If I can't blow it down,' Wolf said,I'll have to blow it up instead.I'll come back in the dead of nightAnd blow it up with dynamite!'Pig cried, 'You brute! I might have known!'Then, picking up the telephone,He dialed as quickly as he couldThe number of red Riding Hood.
'Hello,' she said. 'Who's speaking? Who?Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?'Pig cried, 'I need your help, Miss Hood!Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?''I'll try of course,' Miss Hood replied.'What's on your mind...?' 'A Wolf!' Pig cried.'I know you've dealt with wolves before,And now I've got one at my door!'
'My darling Pig,' she said, 'my sweet,That's something really up my street.I've just begun to wash my hair.But when it's dry, I'll be right there.'
A short while later, through the wood,Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,And yellowish, like mayonnaise.His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,And spit was dripping from his jaw.Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.She draws the pistol from her knickers.Once more she hits the vital spot,And kills him with a single shot.Pig, peeping through the window, stoodAnd yelled, 'Well done, Miss Riding Hood!'
Ah, Piglet, you must never trustYoung ladies from the upper crust.For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,Not only has two wolfskin coats,But when she goes from place to place,She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE.
The little pig began to pray,But Wolfie blew his house away.He shouted, 'Bacon, pork and ham!Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!'And though he ate the pig quite fast,He carefully kept the tail till last.Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.Surprise, surprise, for soon he notedAnother little house for pigs,And this one had been built of TWIGS!
'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!''No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!''Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'
The Wolf said, 'Okay, here we go!'He then began to blow and blow.The little pig began to squeal.He cried, 'Oh Wolf, you've had one meal!Why can't we talk and make a deal?The Wolf replied, 'Not on your nelly!'And soon the pig was in his belly.
'Two juicy little pigs!' Wolf cried,'But still I'm not quite satisfied!I know how full my tummy's bulging,But oh, how I adore indulging.'So creeping quietly as a mouse,The Wolf approached another house,A house which also had insideA little piggy trying to hide.'You'll not get me!' the Piggy cried.'I'll blow you down!' the Wolf replied.'You'll need,' Pig said, 'a lot of puff,And I don't think you've got enough.'Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.The house stayed up as good as new. 'If I can't blow it down,' Wolf said,I'll have to blow it up instead.I'll come back in the dead of nightAnd blow it up with dynamite!'Pig cried, 'You brute! I might have known!'Then, picking up the telephone,He dialed as quickly as he couldThe number of red Riding Hood.
'Hello,' she said. 'Who's speaking? Who?Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?'Pig cried, 'I need your help, Miss Hood!Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?''I'll try of course,' Miss Hood replied.'What's on your mind...?' 'A Wolf!' Pig cried.'I know you've dealt with wolves before,And now I've got one at my door!'
'My darling Pig,' she said, 'my sweet,That's something really up my street.I've just begun to wash my hair.But when it's dry, I'll be right there.'
A short while later, through the wood,Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,And yellowish, like mayonnaise.His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,And spit was dripping from his jaw.Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.She draws the pistol from her knickers.Once more she hits the vital spot,And kills him with a single shot.Pig, peeping through the window, stoodAnd yelled, 'Well done, Miss Riding Hood!'
Ah, Piglet, you must never trustYoung ladies from the upper crust.For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,Not only has two wolfskin coats,But when she goes from place to place,She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE.
Contributed by Jamie and his Mom
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