Children's Corner; Poetry

The World Cup

Even Though I Am a Girl
The world cup would be amazing
Although it would be so hard to concentrate
With all those giraffes grazing

I mean Rooney could kick a ball
Score a goal and sing a song
But it's nothing compared to the sight
Of a baby elephant plodding along

I mean, John Terry can go for a tackle
Break some bones and be in pain
It's a shock, and then no one cares
There's a lion with a purple mane!

I think I would be too distracted
Because that word explains me
So I think I'll stay home and save some money
So I can watch it on a 60 inch TV




by Olivia Rix (aged 11)

Children's Corner; Poetry

Rathers

I know very well what I’d rather be
If I didn’t always have to be me!
I’d rather be an owl,
A downy feathered owl,
A wink-ity, blink-ity, yellow-eyed owl
In a hole in a hollow tree.
I’d take my dinner in chipmunk town,
And wouldn’t I gobble the field mice down,
If I were a wink-ity, blink-ity owl,
And didn’t always have to be me!

I know very well what I’d like to do
If I didn’t have to do what I do!
I’d go and be a woodpecker,
A rap-ity, tap-ity, red-headed woodpecker
In the top of a tall old tree.
And I’d never take a look
At a lesson or a book,
And I’d scold like a pirate on the sea,
If I only had to do what I like to do,
And didn’t always have to be me!

Or else I’d be an antelope,
A pronghorned antelope,
With lots of other antelope
Skimming like a cloud on a wire-grass plian.
A bounding, bouncing antelope,
You’d never get me back to my desk again!

Or I might be a puma,
A singe-colored puma,
A slinking, sly-foot puma
As fierce as fierce could be!
And I’d wait by the waterholes where antelope drink
In the cool of the morning
And I do
not
think
That ever any antelope could get away from me.

But if I were a hunter,
A red Indian hunter –
I’d like to be a hunter, –
I’d have a bow made of juniper wood
From a lightning-blasted tree,
And I’d creep and I’d creep on that puma asleep
A flint tipped arrow,
An eagle feathered arrow,
For a puma kills calves and a puma kills sheep,
And he’d never eat any more antelope
If he once met up with me!


Mary Austin

Source: Rathers, Famous Children Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/rathers-by-mary-austin#ixzz2rvOml177
Family Friend Poems

Children's Corner; Poetry

Flight 

On silver sand where ripples curled

I counted sea-gulls seven;

Shy, secret screened from all the world,

And innocent as heaven.

They did not of my nearness know,

For dawn was barely bright,

And they were still, like spots of snow

In that pale, pearly light.

Then one went forth unto the sea

That rippled up in gold,

And there were rubies flashing free

From out its wing-unfold;

It ducked and dived in pretty play,

The while the other six

So gravely sat it seemed that they

Were marvelled by its tricks.

Then with a sudden flurry each

Down-rushed to join its mate,

And in a flash that sickle beach

With rapture was elate.

With joy they pranked till everyone

Was diamonded with spray,

Then flicked with flame to greet the sun

They rose and winged away.

But with their going, oh, the surge

Of loss they left in me!

For in my heart was born the urge,

The passion to be free.

And where each dawn with terror brings

Some tale of bale and blight,

Who would not envy silver wings,

The sea-gull in its flight!

Let me not know the soils of woe

That chain this stricken earth;

Let me forget the fear and fret

That bind men from their birth;

Let me be the one with wind and sun,

With earth and sky and sea. . . .

Oh, let me teach in living speech

God's glory - Liberty.

BY 

Robert Service

Children's Corner; Short Stories

Aesop's Fables - The Heron

A Heron was walking sedately along the bank of a stream, his eyes on the clear water, and his long neck and pointed bill ready to snap up a likely morsel for his breakfast. The clear water swarmed with fish, but Master Heron was hard to please that morning.

"No small fry for me," he said. "Such scanty fare is not fit for a Heron."

Now a fine young Perch swam near.

"No indeed," said the Heron. "I wouldn't even trouble to open my beak for anything like that!"

As the sun rose, the fish left the shallow water near the shore and swam below into the cool depths toward the middle. The Heron saw no more fish, and very glad was he at last to breakfast on a tiny Snail.

Do not be too hard to suit or you may have to be content with the worst or with nothing at all.

Copyright © 2011 House of Lore

Poems For Kids 

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Origin of Thanksgiving

After landing in Plymouth, the Pilgrims had to struggle to survive through their first wretched and miserable winter in Massachusetts. When spring and summer came it was a welcome relief. They learned so many things that first year. They had planted and cared for their first fields of corn. They had found wild strawberries in the meadows, raspberries on the hillsides, and wild grapes in the woods.In the forest just back of the village wild turkeys and deer were easily shot. In the shallow waters of the bay there was plenty of fish, clams, and lobsters.The summer had been warm, with a good deal of rain and much sunshine; and so when autumn came there was a fine crop of corn.They wanted to celebrate and give thanks to God for all he had provided for them.

"Let us gather the fruits of our first labors and rejoice together," said Governor Bradford.

"Yes," said Elder Brewster, "let us take a day upon which we may thank God for all our blessings, and invite our Indian friends who have been so kind to us."

The great Indian chief, Massasoit, came with ninety of his bravest warriors, all dressed in deerskin's, feathers, and fox tails, with their faces smeared with red, white, and yellow paint.

Now there were only eleven buildings in the whole village, four log storehouses and seven little log houses; so the Indian guests ate and slept outside. This was no problem though, for it was one of those warm weeks in the season we call Indian summer.

To supply meat for the occasion four men had already been sent out to hunt wild turkeys. They killed enough in one day to last the whole company almost a week.Massasoit helped the feast along by sending some of his best hunters into the woods. They killed five deer, which they gave to their paleface friends, that all might have enough to eat.

Under the trees were built long, simple tables on which were piled baked clams, broiled fish, roast turkey, and deer meat.The young Pilgrim women helped serve the food to the hungry Indians. One was Mary Chilton, who leaped from the boat at Plymouth Rock; the other was Mary Allerton. She lived for seventy-eight years after this first Thanksgiving, and of those who came over in the Mayflower she was the last to die.

What a merry time everybody had during that week! Young John Howland was there. While they were sailing in mid ocean, he fell overboard but was quick enough to catch hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after dinner he invited Elizabeth Tilley, whom he afterward married, to sail over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.

With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose love story is so sweetly told by Longfellow.

One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy, Peregrine White, who was the first baby born in Plymouth.

And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played games, and had a shooting match. Every night the Indians sang and danced for their friends; and to make things still more lively they gave every now and then a shrill war whoop that made the woods echo in the still night air.

The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles Standish. Some of them called him "Boiling Water" because he was easily made angry. Others called him "Captain Shrimp," on account of his small size.

During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack Billington did not play some prank on the Indians. He was the boy who fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder, in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower.

After the third day, the Indian king and his warriors said farewell to their English friends and began their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope Bay.

On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service of prayer and praise. Elder Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving sermon. After thanking God for all his goodness, he did not forget the many loved ones buried on the hillside.

He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of worry and overwork.

Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain Miles Standish, whose death was caused by cold and lack of good food.

And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had fallen overboard from the Mayflower in Provincetown harbor.

The first Thanksgiving took place nearly three hundred years ago. Since that time in 1621, almost without interruption, Thanksgiving has been kept as a day to be thankful for all God has given us whether in good times or bad. At this time children and grandchildren return home, the long table is spread, and brothers and sisters, separated often by many miles, again sit side by side.

Today Thanksgiving is observed in the United States as a season of sweet and blessed memories of that first thanksgiving.

Children's Corner; Poetry

A Thanksgiving Fable

Thanksgiving Mouse, It was a hungry pussy cat, 

upon Thanksgiving morn,

And she watched a thankful little mouse, 

that ate an ear of corn.

"If I ate that thankful little mouse, 

how thankful he should be,

When he has made a meal himself, 

to make a meal for me!

"Then with his thanks for having fed, 

and his thanks for feeding me,

With all his thankfulness inside, 

how thankful I shall be!"

Thus mused the hungry pussy cat, 

upon Thanksgiving Day;

But the little mouse had overheard

and declined (with thanks) to stay.

by Oliver Herford

Children's Corner; Poetry

All Things Bright and Beautiful 

~Cecil Frances Alexander

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Origin of Thanksgiving 

After landing in Plymouth, the Pilgrims had to struggle to survive through their first wretched and miserable winter in Massachusetts. When spring and summer came it was a welcome relief. They learned so many things that first year. They had planted and cared for their first fields of corn. They had found wild strawberries in the meadows, raspberries on the hillsides, and wild grapes in the woods.In the forest just back of the village wild turkeys and deer were easily shot. In the shallow waters of the bay there was plenty of fish, clams, and lobsters.The summer had been warm, with a good deal of rain and much sunshine; and so when autumn came there was a fine crop of corn.They wanted to celebrate and give thanks to God for all he had provided for them.

"Let us gather the fruits of our first labors and rejoice together," said Governor Bradford.

"Yes," said Elder Brewster, "let us take a day upon which we may thank God for all our blessings, and invite our Indian friends who have been so kind to us."

The great Indian chief, Massasoit, came with ninety of his bravest warriors, all dressed in deerskin's, feathers, and fox tails, with their faces smeared with red, white, and yellow paint.

Now there were only eleven buildings in the whole village, four log storehouses and seven little log houses; so the Indian guests ate and slept outside. This was no problem though, for it was one of those warm weeks in the season we call Indian summer.

To supply meat for the occasion four men had already been sent out to hunt wild turkeys. They killed enough in one day to last the whole company almost a week.Massasoit helped the feast along by sending some of his best hunters into the woods. They killed five deer, which they gave to their paleface friends, that all might have enough to eat.

Under the trees were built long, simple tables on which were piled baked clams, broiled fish, roast turkey, and deer meat.The young Pilgrim women helped serve the food to the hungry Indians. One was Mary Chilton, who leaped from the boat at Plymouth Rock; the other was Mary Allerton. She lived for seventy-eight years after this first Thanksgiving, and of those who came over in the Mayflower she was the last to die.

What a merry time everybody had during that week! Young John Howland was there. While they were sailing in mid ocean, he fell overboard but was quick enough to catch hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after dinner he invited Elizabeth Tilley, whom he afterward married, to sail over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.

With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose love story is so sweetly told by Longfellow.

One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy, Peregrine White, who was the first baby born in Plymouth.

And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played games, and had a shooting match. Every night the Indians sang and danced for their friends; and to make things still more lively they gave every now and then a shrill war whoop that made the woods echo in the still night air.

The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles Standish. Some of them called him "Boiling Water" because he was easily made angry. Others called him "Captain Shrimp," on account of his small size.

During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack Billington did not play some prank on the Indians. He was the boy who fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder, in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower.

After the third day, the Indian king and his warriors said farewell to their English friends and began their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope Bay.

On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service of prayer and praise. Elder Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving sermon. After thanking God for all his goodness, he did not forget the many loved ones buried on the hillside.

He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of worry and overwork.

Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain Miles Standish, whose death was caused by cold and lack of good food.

And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had fallen overboard from the Mayflower in Provincetown harbor.

The first Thanksgiving took place nearly three hundred years ago. Since that time in 1621, almost without interruption, Thanksgiving has been kept as a day to be thankful for all God has given us whether in good times or bad. At this time children and grandchildren return home, the long table is spread, and brothers and sisters, separated often by many miles, again sit side by side.

Today Thanksgiving is observed in the United States as a season of sweet and blessed memories of that first thanksgiving.

Children's Corner; Short Stories

The Little Red Hen

   

The little Red Hen was in the farmyard with her chickens, when she found a grain of wheat.

"Who will plant this wheat?" she said.

"Not I," said the Goose.

"Not I," said the Duck.

"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she planted the grain of wheat.

When the wheat was ripe she said, "Who will take this wheat to the mill?"

"Not I," said the Goose.

"Not I," said the Duck.

"I will, then," said the little Red Hen, and she took the wheat to the mill.

When she brought the flour home she said, "Who will make some bread with this flour?"

"Not I," said the Goose.

"Not I," said the Duck.

"I will, then," said the little Red Hen.

When the bread was baked, she said, "Who will eat this bread?"

"I will," said the Goose

"I will," said the Duck

"No, you won't," said the little Red Hen. "I shall eat it myself.  Cluck! cluck!"  And she called her chickens to help her.

  

Children's Corner; Poetry

All These Things

by Belinda van Rensburg

Jesus cares for you and me
For all the fishes in the sea
For crawling snakes and birds that fly
Upon the earth and in the sky.

Little bugs that buzz and hop
Horses galloping clip clop
Ponies prancing; dolphins dancing
Love birds kissing and romancing.

Sharp-eyed eagles that can soar
Mighty ocean waves that roar
Bleating lambs and chimps that swing
Refreshing showers in the Spring.

All these things and so much more
Jesus Christ loves and adores
He made each thing and everyone
Who lives under the smiling sun. 

© 2010