If you have been worried about introducing poetry to your children your worries are over. Here are 19 great poems that are fun and unique enough to get your children thinking. The fun part about poetry is that it is up to the reader to decide what it means to them. Don't get bogged down with trying to figure out exactly what the poet was thinking when he or she wrote the poem. Just ask your kids questions and see what they thinik it means. To get you started try some of these questions...
1.What do you think it's talking about?
2.What does it mean to you?
3. Do you think the poem was written frmo the poets experience or from their imagination?
4. Did you like the poem?
If your children are young I highly recamend reading a poem to your children after they are tucked into bed. You will have their attention and they will enjoy the little more parent time. Lunch time is another great time.
If you would like to print them out download it below
The Bumblebee
By James Whitcomb Riley
You better not fool with a Bumblebee!—
Ef you don't think they can sting—you'll see!
They're lazy to look at, an' kind o' go
Buzzin' an' bummin' aroun' so slow,
An' ac' so slouchy an' all fagged out,
Danglin' their legs as they drone about
The hollyhawks 'at they can't climb in
'Ithout ist a-tumble-un out ag'in!
Wunst I watched one climb clean 'way
In a jimson-blossom, I did, one day,—
An' I ist grabbed it — an' nen let go—
An' "Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so!"
Says The Raggedy Man; an' he ist run
An' pullt out the stinger, an' don't laugh none,
An' says: "They has be'n folks, I guess,
'At thought I wuz predjudust, more er less,—
Yit I still muntain 'at a Bumblebee
Wears out his welcome too quick fer me!"
The Swing
By Robert Louis Stevenson
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
Looking Forward
By Robert Louis Stevenson
When I am grown to man's estate
I shall be very proud and great,
And tell the other girls and boys
Not to meddle with my toys.
To Any Reader
By Robert Louis Stevenson
As from the house your mother sees
You playing round the garden trees,
So you may see, if you will look
Through the windows of this book,
Another child, far, far away,
And in another garden, play.
But do not think you can at all,
By knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is all on his play-business bent.
He does not hear; he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book.
For, long ago, the truth to say,
He has grown up and gone away,
And it is but a child of air
That lingers in the garden there.
We Have A Little Garden
By Beatrix Potter
WE have a little garden,
A garden of our own,
And every day we water there
The seeds that we have sown.
WE love our little garden,
And tend it with such care,
You will not find a faced leaf
Or blighted blossom there.
Three Blind Mice
By Thomas Ravenscroft
Three blind mice. Three blind mice.
See how they run. See how they run.
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such a sight in your life
As three blind mice?
The Crocodile
By Lewis Carroll
How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!
Mix A Pancake
By Christina Rossetti
Mix a pancake,
Stir a pancake,
Pop it in the pan;
Fry the pancake,
Toss the pancake—
Catch it if you can.
Half Way Down
BY A.A. Milne
Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn't any
other stair
quite like
it.
i'm not at the bottom,
i'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.
Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!
Sneezles
By A.A. Milne
Christopher Robin
Had wheezles
And sneezles,
They bundled him
Into
His bed.
They gave him what goes
With a cold in the nose,
And some more for a cold
In the head.
They wondered
If wheezles
Could turn
Into measles,
If sneezles
Would turn
Into mumps;
They examined his chest
For a rash,
And the rest
Of his body for swellings and lumps.
They sent for some doctors
In sneezles
And wheezles
To tell them what ought
To be done.
All sorts and conditions
Of famous physicians
Came hurrying round
At a run.
They all made a note
Of the state of his throat,
They asked if he suffered from thirst;
They asked if the sneezles
Came after the wheezles,
Or if the first sneezle
Came first.
They said, "If you teazle
A sneezle
Or wheezle,
A measle
May easily grow.
But humour or pleazle
The wheezle
Or sneezle,
The measle
Will certainly go."
They expounded the reazles
For sneezles
And wheezles,
The manner of measles
When new.
They said "If he freezles
In draughts and in breezles,
Then PHTHEEZLES
May even ensue."
Christopher Robin
Got up in the morning,
The sneezles had vanished away.
And the look in his eye
Seemed to say to the sky,
"Now, how to amuse them to-day?"
Wind On The Hill
By A.A. Milne
No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.
It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.
But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.
And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.
So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes…
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.
The Purple Cow
By Gelett Burgess
I never saw a purple cow,
I never hope to see one,
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one!
There Was An Old Man With A Beard
By Edward Lear
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said “It is just how I feared—
Two Owls and a hen,
Four Larks and a wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!”
Leap Year Poem
By Mother Goose
Thirty days hath September,
April, June and November.
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting February alone.
And that has twenty-eight days clear,
And twenty-nine in each leap year.
Little Things
By Julia Abigail
Little drops of water,Little grains of sand,Make the mighty ocean,And the pleasant land.
So the little moments,Humble though they be,Make the mighty ages,Of Eternity.
So the little errors,Lead the soul away,From the paths of virtue,Far in sin to stray.
Little deeds of kindness,Little words of love,Help to make earth happy,Like the Heaven above.
At The Zoo
By William Makepeace Thackery
First I saw the white bear, then I saw the black;
Then I saw the camel with a hump upon his back;
Then I saw the grey wolf, with mutton in his maw;
Then I saw the wombat waddle in the straw;
Then I saw the elephant a-waving of his trunk;
Then I saw the monkeys—mercy, how unpleasantly they smelt!
Happy Thoughts
By Robert Louis Stevenson
The world is so full of a number of things,
I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin
By Robert Browning
Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,By famous Hanover city;The river Weser, deep and wide,Washes its wall on the southern side;A pleasanter spot you never spied;But, when begins my ditty,Almost five hundred years ago,To see the townsfolk suffer soFrom vermin, was a pity.
Rats!They fought the dogs, and killed the cats,And bit the babies in the cradles,And eat the cheeses out of the vats,And licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladles,Split open the kegs of salted sprats,Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats,And even spoiled the women’s chatsBy drowning their speakingWith shrieking and squeakingIn fifty different sharps and flats.
The Months
By Sara Coleridge
January brings the snow,makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,Skipping by their fleecy damns.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,Fills the children’s hand with posies.
Hot July brings cooling showers,Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm September brings the fruit,Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasants,Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast,Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
Comments