Children poems
/ page 211 of 244 /Soliloquy in Circles
© Ogden Nash
Being a father
Is quite a bother.You are as free as air
With time to spare,You're a fiscal rocket
With change in your pocket,And then one morn
Possessions Are Nine Points Of Conversation
© Ogden Nash
Some people, and it doesn't matter whether they are paupers or millionaires, Think that anything they have is the best in the world just because it is theirs
One Third Of The Calendar
© Ogden Nash
In January everything freezes.
We have two children. Both are she'ses.
This is our January rule:
One girl in bed, and one in school.
Look What You Did, Christopher!
© Ogden Nash
In fourteen hundred and ninety-two,
Someone sailed the ocean blue.
Somebody borrowed the fare in Spain
For a business trip on the bounding main,
I Didn't Go To Church Today
© Ogden Nash
I didn't go to church today,
I trust the Lord to understand.
The surf was swirling blue and white,
The children swirling on the sand.
Timothy Winters
© Charles Causley
Timothy Winters comes to school
With eyes as wide as a football pool,
Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:
A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.
Mike Teavee...
© Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
The Old-Home Folks
© James Whitcomb Riley
Who shall sing a simple ditty all about the Willow,
Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray
That dandles high the happy bird that flutters there to trill a
Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May.
Damascus, What Are You Doing to Me?
© Nizar Qabbani
3
I return to the womb in which I was formed . . .
To the first book I read in it . . .
To the first woman who taught me
The geography of love . . .
And the geography of women . . .
The Beggar
© John Newton
Encouraged by thy word
Of promise to the poor;
Behold, a beggar, Lord,
Waits at thy mercy's door!
No hand, no heart, O Lord, but thine,
Can help or pity wants like mine.
Ultima Thule: From My Arm-Chair
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Am I a king, that I should call my own
This splendid ebon throne?
Or by what reason, or what right divine,
Can I proclaim it mine?
Columbus
© Ogden Nash
Once upon a time there was an Italian,
And some people thought he was a rapscallion,
But he wasn't offended,
Because other people thought he was splendid,
Children's Party
© Ogden Nash
May I join you in the doghouse, Rover?
I wish to retire till the party's over.
Since three o'clock I've done my best
To entertain each tiny guest. My conscience now I've left behind me,
At the Vietnam War Memorial
© Craig Erick Chaffin
Black granite stretches its harsh, tapering wings
up to pedestrian-level grass
but sucks me down, here, at the intersection of names.
I forgive, I must, though I wish something
could heal this wound in the earth.
Paragraphs from a Day-Book
© Marilyn Hacker
Cherry-ripe: dark sweet burlats, scarlet reverchons
firm-fleshed and tart in the mouth
bigarreaux, peach-and-white napoléons
as the harvest moves north
Morning News
© Marilyn Hacker
Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread
and fried potatoes, tips green on the branches,
repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war.
A cinder-block wall shared by two houses