Tag Archives: nz poems by children

An Ode to Autumn is a very fine thing

Ewen wrote a magnificent ode to autumn so I thought I would post it as we are now in the thick of this season. The mornings are crispy cold at the beach. The leaves are starting to fall. I love the sound of Ewen’s poem and the the way the images and the mood grows. Wonderful!

This is what Ewen said:

I wrote my ode about Autumn. The last and second to last lines rhyme, even though they didn’t need to but I thought they sounded better that way. I also read an ode  which was called Ode to Pablo’s Shoes. I liked how it sounded good when I read it out.

Ode to Autumn

From majestic trees
drop brown leaves,
the wind sweeping them
into nearby gutters.

Rain comes to visit
along with dark sky,
out from hibernation
and into their time.

The flowers of spring
limp and brown,
the sun of summer
chased far away,
the scarves of winter
not yet to be found,
but the leaves of Autumn,
are in abundance all ’round.

Ewen W aged 12, Year 8, Cobham Intermediate School, Christchurch

Using your ears: some of my favourite poems

Letterbox Cat

There was a slight mix-up with ‘storm‘ being a topic for two weeks in a row. But they were two different challenges! Thanks for sending in all the poems. I loved reading them.

With this challenge I asked you to use your ears. To listen to what you wrote as you wrote and after you had written it.

It was very easy for me to pick these two favourites as they sing in my ear so beautifully. They sound so very, very good. I love the way the words pop on the lines, the different lengths of lines (poems can have same length lies too!), the way the lines flow. Test them out for yourself!

Because they sound so good they make strong moods in the poems too.

I am sending both young poets a copy of my book The Letterbox Cat. Congratulations!


I Know It’s Raining

Just me and him,
Behind the sofa,
Next to the fire.

He’s purring,
His soft, grey fur is vibrating on my lap,
But I can’t hear him.
Because it’s raining.

I know it’s raining.
The fat drops were endlessly throwing themselves before carelessly splashing the wet window.

He stares out the window, glad to be inside.
It’s dark outside but we can hear it.
Like thunder,
You can just hear the wind,
Howling like an unloved dog.

Torrential rain,
The fire,
And us,
From the storm, that we know is there.

by Beth M, aged 7, Ramarama School



The Storm

Dark, gloomy, cold.

A place of sadness,

A place of wildness,

No life remains.


The sun is hidden

Behind thick rain clouds in the sky.

The world is grey and dull.

The sea washes onto the beach,

The sand disappears under piles of trash.

The once busy pier

Is deserted and crumbling into the sea.


By Maya W Age 7 St Andrews College, Christchurch