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TOPIC: Favorite childhood poem

Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3643538

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Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
I wish, I wish he'd go away...

When I came home last night at three,
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...

Hugo Mearns
The following user(s) said Well Said: Keeper, Aida

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The Cornish Pasty

Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3643769

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I wonder if anyone can help me here, when I was about 5yrs old my big sister had this old book that was ripped and had no cover but it had many interesting things inside and one of those things was a poem about a lady hanging her clothes out on a windy day, I can only remember a small piece of it and wonder if anyone knows the rest? .......... and wouldn't you be a little upset if the wind blows off your hat, but Mary Magee is wiser you see and when the wind blows you can hear her cry, never mind Mr Breeze the more you tease the quicker my clothes will dry....... sorry but that all I can think of, does anyone have any ideas?

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Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3644128

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Trila wrote:

Serena77 wrote: I became a young aunt and entertained my nieces.... one of the poems I memorized
by heart after reciting it so many times. They loved it!

It is referred to as a 'nonsense' poem. Lear wrote the poem for a three-year-old girl, Janet Symonds, the daughter of Lear's friend poet John Addington Symonds and his wife Catherine Symonds.

It was first published during 1871 as part of his book Nonsense Songs, Stories, Botany, and Alphabets.

The term "runcible", used for the phrase "runcible spoon", was invented for the poem.




The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

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.


That is so cute!!!


Thanks... my little nieces wore me out reciting it.. but it was from the same book
as illustrated.. and it was really fun! smile.png

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"money buys everything,
but ............common sense."

Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3644152

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I was - and still am - an avid reader, but poetry just didn't engage my interest at all when I was a kid. In my teens I liked The Metaphysical Poets and even now I get my tattered old copy of them out and read them.

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Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3644204

  • Trila
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Sirfurryanimal wrote: Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
I wish, I wish he'd go away...

When I came home last night at three,
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...

Hugo Mearns


I like that!!!!

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Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3644272

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Only one I remember
Roses are red
violets are blue
leaves are green

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Schöne Dinge passieren in Ihrem Leben, wenn Sie sich distanzieren und negative Dinge und Menschen entfernen.

Favorite childhood poem 7 months 2 weeks ago #3644304

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In high school in 1954, I memorized this poem. I can still recite it today.

Old Ironsides
BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES SR.

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle shout,
And burst the cannon’s roar;—
The meteor of the ocean air
Shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes’ blood
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o’er the flood
And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor’s tread,
Or know the conquered knee;—
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!

O, better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave;
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every thread-bare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,—
The lightning and the gale!

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Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end

Favorite childhood poem 4 months 4 weeks ago #3683503

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Eira wrote: Gosh, I wouldn’t where to start on my favourite childhood poems ... I have favourite sad poems, happy poems, nonsense poems, thought-provoking poems .... how long have you got?!

When I was 7, my father gave me a children’s Book of a Thousand Poems - I read them all, loved a lot and recited quite a few of them so often, I learned them by heart.

Then from about age 11, I got into all the 20th Century poets and wartime poets.

In the spirit of transatlantic relations, I’ll add one of my favourites from my favourite American poet, Robert Frost.
I love all his poems, a serious message with a leavening of humour.

Mending Wall
Robert Frost - 1874-1963

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'


I love that poem, but I love Robert Frost generally - Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening sends shivers down my spine.

As someone who was always very nostalgic I had a soft spot for John Betjeman, and in particular the Poem Norfolk:

How did the Devil come? When first attack?
These Norfolk lanes recall lost innocence,
The years fall off and find me walking back
Dragging a stick along the wooden fence
Down this same path, where, forty years ago,
My father strolled behind me, calm and slow.

I used to fill my hands with sorrel seeds
And shower him with them from the tops of the stiles,
I used to butt my head into his tweeds
To make him hurry down those languorous miles
Of ash and alder-shaded lanes, till here
Our moorings and the masthead would appear.

There after supper lit by lantern light
Warm in the cabin I could lie secure
And hear against the polished sides at night
The lap lap lapping of the weedy Bure,
A whispering and watery Norfolk sound
Telling of all the moonlit reeds around.

How did the Devil come? When first attack?
The church is just the same, though now I know
Fowler of Louth restored it. Time, bring back
The rapturous ignorance of long ago,
The peace, before the dreadful daylight starts,
Of unkept promises and broken hearts.

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Favorite childhood poem 4 months 4 weeks ago #3683537

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Here's an old schoolyard poem..

Mary had a little lamb, she thought it was quite silly,
To throw him up into the air and catch him by his,
Willy was a sheepdog, running through the grass,
Along came a bee and stung him on the,
Ask no questions, tell no lies,
I saw a policeman open up his,
Flies are a nuisance, bees are worse,
That is the end of my little verse.

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Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end

Favorite childhood poem 2 months 4 days ago #3721061

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Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight run of Paul Revere
Under the blankets and under the sheets
And the 50 yard dash to the toilet seat.

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