Don't stay away & avoid this person you once knew. Reach out, still be a friend, you know, this could be you. The Owl and the Pussy- Cat BY EDWARD LEAR I The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, \"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!\" II Pussy said to the Owl, \"You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?\" They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-Tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose. III \"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?\" Said the Piggy, \"I will.\" So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.
Long Poems We Bought a Lot of Candy Bars We bought a lot of candy bars. We thought it would be neat to have a ton for all the kids who came to trick-or-treat. We bought them early in the month when they were all on sale. We dragged the bags in from the car and set them on the scale. The candy weighed a hundred pounds! I’m sure we got enough. In fact, we may have had too much of all that yummy stuff. It wouldn’t hurt to just eat one, or two, or three, or four. We bought so much that we could even eat a dozen more.
So every day we had a few; a minuscule amount. How many? I can’t say for sure. I wasn’t keeping count. Our pile grew smaller every day by ten, fifteen, or twenty. But, still, it didn’t matter. We were certain we had plenty. When Halloween arrived we checked the candy situation, and found that we had given in to way too much temptation. A single bar was all we had. We’d eaten all the rest. So, if our lights are off tonight, I think that’s for the best. Fern Hill Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953 •
• • • • • Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with daisies and barley Down the rivers of the windfall light. And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home, In the sun that is young once only, Time let me play and be Golden in the mercy of his means, And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold, And the sabbath rang slowly In the pebbles of the holy streams. All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air And playing, lovely and watery And fire green as grass. And nightly under the simple stars As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away, All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars Flying with the ricks, and the horses Flashing into the dark. And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all Shining, it was Adam and maiden, The sky gathered again And the sun grew round that very day. So it must have been after the birth of the simple light In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm Out of the whinnying green stable On to the fields of praise.
And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long, In the sun born over and over, I ran my heedless ways, My wishes raced through the house high hay And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs Before the children green and golden Follow him out of grace, Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand, In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him fly with the high fields And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land. Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
The Fish Elizabeth Bishop - 1911-1979 • • • • • • I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn't fight. He hadn't fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker brown was like wallpaper: shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green weed hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen —the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly— I thought of the coarse white flesh packed in like feathers, the big bones and the little bones, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. —It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip —if you could call it a lip—
grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-line, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier lines, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and snap when it broke and he got away. Like medals with their ribbons frayed and wavering, a five-haired beard of wisdom trailing from his aching jaw. I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels—until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
Funny Poems 1. “Invitation” Where the Sidewalk Ends
2. “Runny’s Heading Rabits” Runny Babbit
3. “Homework Machine” A Light in the Attic
4. “For Sale” Where the Sidewalk Ends
5. “Gardener” Falling Up Special Edition
6. “Falling Up” Falling Up
7. “The Wild Cherote” Don’t Bump the Glump
8. “Put Something in” A Light in the Attic
9. “Snowball” Falling Up
10. “Flag” Where the Sidewalk Ends
11. “Frozen Dream” A Light in the Attic
12. “Superstar” Every Thing On It
13. “Pancake?” Where the Sidewalk Ends
14. “Monsters I’ve Met” A Light in the Attic
15. “The Voice” Falling Up
16. “The Bibely” Don’t Bump the Glump!
17. “Runny’s Hew Nobby” Runny Babbit
18. “Noise Day” Falling Up
19. “School” Every Thing On It
20. “Eighteen Flavors” Where the Sidewalk Ends
21. “Superstitious” A Light in the Attic
Mohammad Grows up in London with a Mum called Halima, a dad called Sofi and a naughty sister called Sanaya . He Dreams of becoming a doctor but currently is being an author and poet .
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