Linda took up several of my challenges for the Holiday Poem Camp which is awesome so I have decided to post them all! These poems are imaginative but they also use really good detail. Sometimes they rhyme and sometimes they don’t. I like the way the rhyme doesn’t take charge of the poems. It was really interesting for me to see how she used the lines I gave you. I especially liked the last poem because it surprised me and made me smile. Great job Linda, I am delighted to see you are enjoying the camp.
It is also interesting how you find connections. I loved growing up in Northland. I guess that is why beaches are in my blood and I love walking on them every morning. Looking at the water today I thought it was time to start taking my togs! I love swimming and boogie boarding in the waves. And I love going to the beach whatever the weather is like ..as you might know by now!
Hi Paula Green,
It’s Linda again, age:10 (turning 11 in December 11) Year 6 Parnell District School.
It’s nice to be writing to you again! Thank you for posting all my stuff. I read your message on the poetry box. It’s interesting to know that your father grew up in the place where my farm is (and where we are going to move. We spend as much time as we can, staying here every weekend, except if we have a birthday party to go to or a sleepover, and we stay here every holiday. I’m in Maungakaramea right now at my farm typing to you!) and that you went to school in Whangarei! It’s like in the stories (and sometimes movies) where someone has a special connection with a total stranger that you bump into! Any way, how are you? I hope you’re doing well. I forgot to tell you, I also read the poem ideas and got to work straight away. Here is the first poem where I had to start with: In Mrs.Maggee’s hat she keeps….
Here it goes:
The Transporting Hat
In Mrs Maggee’s hat she keeps,
A place where her cat would fancy a sleep;
A huge mouth, open wide,
Inviting you dear children inside,
Would transport you to worlds with no hesitation
To let you show your passport or registration.
But beware of the world it chooses to take you,
The world might be hell, or down in the loo!
Mrs Maggee’s granddaughter crawled in to hide,
Not knowing the terrors that would be inside,
And got transported into a world of pure madness,
And was put into a deep spell of sadness.
That girl, Susan, had never come back,
People thought she was kidnapped with a sack!
Let me tell you a secret,
Mrs Maggee knows, so you’d better keep it!
After the world finished its horror,
It would put her into a room to store her.
Then after a day it would spit her out,
Back into her world out from a spout
Now, close your eyes and count to ten,
And think of the horrors that happened then.
If you pictured it right, you will know,
That it is not a good place to go.
Now, that the first poem is done and over with, here is the second poem which ends with: ‘sleeping in the sun’:
The Nature Cat
Curled fern-frond tail,
Swaying in the gentle breeze
Fluttering by, on butterfly wings.
Two pebble eyes,
At the bottom of a lake,
Sunlight filtering through the clear, fresh water,
Making them glint and gleam.
Four twisting vines,
Until it pounces,
A delicious mouse in its grasp;
A tasty treat between its paws.
Drenched in sunlight,
A huge log covered in patches of moss,
Connects them all together.
A rock resting on the top,
Two soft wiltered leaves on each corner.
The two pebbles,
With just below, a black seed.
Completed with the twig,
Strange purring noises coming from it,
The Nature Cat in full form,
Sleeping in the sun.
Now for my third one, with the ‘jump hop jump’ line in the middle:
The Imaginary Race
Beating down on you
Like a drumroll in the circus,
To wipe beads of sweat
Off your brow,
The bell rings,
The distinct sound,
The children’s laughing and screaming
You have to finish it,
Your mind races,
Jump hop jump,
You’ve done it,
You cry out,
Loud and proud,
The imaginary race,
Against imaginary people,
Has been won,
Now for the final one that has to include: ‘cat’ & ‘chair’ (anywhere I like):
As fast as a hummingbird’s heart drumming,
The drumroll starts,
The ring alight,
Like a matchstick
Drenching the ring,
The audience gives a huge roar,
Like lions, escaped from the zoo.
The curtains, drawn, welcomes the audience,
In open jaws,
Pulling them into a world of wonder.
The cat, standing on the chair,
Cracks his whip,
Sending a distinct ripple of sound outwards,
And the magic of the show begins.