Kids Read To Us

This is a short poem about a girl/boy looking out of his window and telling us what he sees. He tells us about the boats, lights and other things he sees. Escape at Bedtime Robert Louis Stevenson The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out Through the blinds and the windows and bars;And high overhead and all moving about, There were thousands of millions of stars. There ne’er were such thousands of leaves on a tree, Nor of people in church or the Park, As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, And that glittered and winked in the dark. The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, And the star of the sailor, and Mars, These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall Would be half full of water and stars. They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries, And they soon had me packed into bed; But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, And the stars going round in my head.

This reading  has four poems in it. I got the idea from the book of poetry whisper and shout. these poems are from different poem writers. hope you like the poems! 

this is the long version of twinkle twinkle little star.

This poem is about a centipede telling James (in the book James and the Giant Peach) how the centipede eats. I wish I could eat everything the centipede eats but I'm sure my stomach will hurt. Maybe I'll stick to the peach! ‘I’ve eaten many strange and scrumptious dishes in my time, Like jellied gnats and dandyprats and earwigs cooked in slime, And mice with rice – they’re really nice When roasted in their prime. (But don’t forget to sprinkle them with just a pinch of grime.) ‘I’ve eaten fresh mudburgers by the greatest cooks there are, And scrambled dregs and stinkbugs’ eggs and hornets stewed in tar, And pails of snails and lizards’ tails, And beetles by the jar. (A beetle is improved by just a splash of vinegar.) ‘I often eat boiled slobbages. They’re grand when served beside Minced doodlebugs and curried slugs. And have you ever tried Mosquitoes’ toes and wampfish roes Most delicately fried? (The only trouble is they disagree with my inside.) ‘I’m mad for crispy wasp-stings on a piece of buttered toast, And pickled spines of porcupines. And then a gorgeous roast Of dragon’s flesh, well hung, not fresh – It costs a pound at most, (And comes to you in barrels if you order it by post.) ‘I crave the tasty tentacles of octopi for tea I like hot-dogs, I LOVE hot-frogs, and surely you’ll agree A plate of soil with engine oil’s A super recipe. (I hardly need to mention that it’s practically free.) ‘For dinner on my birthday shall I tell you what I chose: Hot noodles made from poodles on a slice of garden hose – And a rather smelly jelly Made of armadillo’s toes. (The jelly is delicious, but you have to hold your nose.) ‘Now comes,’the Centipede declared,’the burden of my speech: These foods are rare beyond compare – some are right out of reach; But there’s no doubt I’d go without A million plates of each For one small mite, One tiny bite Of this FANTASTIC PEACH!’

This is a very interesting and intense poem. It is interesting because there are lots of words that aren't really words at all and that I don't understand. It's intense because it's about killing a creature and it's dark, maybe at night. It is scary and fun to read. Jabberwocky BY LEWIS CARROLL ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!” He took his vorpal sword in hand; Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” He chortled in his joy. ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

Thank you for listening to my podcast over the last year. I was feeling super shy when I started the podcast because I didn't want to share my voice. I didn't want to talk to anyone but my family. I read something on a tab my mom had opened on her computer that told me it's okay to use your voice. I started telling myself that I need to use my voice more often. Through this podcast I have been able to practice this and I thank you for listening and encouraging me to do more podcasts.  This year I'm sure everyone will have a lot of fun with me as I bring you new poems and stories and I plan to publish episodes more often. Also, I want to thank you all for your comments and emails as I continue to develop this podcast. Have a very happy new year! New Years Poem - Author Unknown At the sound of the tolling midnight bell a brand new year will begin. Let's raise our hopes in a confident toast, to the promise it ushers in. May your battles be few, your pleasures many, your wishes and dreams fulfilled.  May your confidence stand in the face of loss and give you the strength to rebuild. May peace of heart fill all your days and may serenity grace your soul. May tranquil moments bless your life and keep your spirit whole.  This is my wish for you - Ralph Waldo Emerson This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, Love to complete your life.

This poem is about 600 men riding into a battle. 

This is a long poem. It is a poem about Mike Teavee. Mike Teavee is a character from Charlie and the chocolate factory who always watches TV. It is my favorite poem because it is long and funny. It tells us about what happens to you when you watch too much TV. I had fun singing it, too. I  hope you have fun listening to it.  Roald Dahl is my favorite  writer. I also read all the time.  The most important thing we’ve learned, So far as children are concerned, Is never, NEVER, NEVER let Them near your television set — Or better still, just don’t install The idiotic thing at all. In almost every house we’ve been, We’ve watched them gaping at the screen. They loll and slop and lounge about, And stare until their eyes pop out. (Last week in someone’s place we saw A dozen eyeballs on the floor.) They sit and stare and stare and sit Until they’re hypnotised by it, Until they’re absolutely drunk With all that shocking ghastly junk.Oh yes, we know it keeps them still, They don’t climb out the window sill, They never fight or kick or punch, They leave you free to cook the lunch And wash the dishes in the sink – But did you ever stop to think, To wonder just exactly what This does to your beloved tot? IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD! IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD! IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND! IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND! HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE! HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE! HE CANNOT THINK — HE ONLY SEES!‘ All right!’ you’ll cry. ‘All right!’ you’ll say, ‘But if we take the set away, What shall we do to entertain Our darling children? Please explain!’ We’ll answer this by asking you, ‘What used the darling ones to do? ‘How used they keep themselves contented Before this monster was invented?’ Have you forgotten? Don’t you know? We’ll say it very loud and slow: THEY … USED … TO … READ! They’d READ and READ, AND READ and READ, and then proceed To READ some more.

I hope you have fun listening to this very funny poem. If you like you can write your own poem about your name. What are your favorite things? What silly ideas for a name do you have? Write to me and let me know your ideas! My name is... - Pauline Clarke  My name is Sluggery-wuggery My name is Worms-for-tea My name is Swallow-the-table-leg My name is Drink-the-sea My name is I-eat-saucepans My name is I-like-snails My name is Grand-piano-George My name is I-ride-whales My name is Jump-the-chimney MY name is Bite-my-knee My name is Jiggery-pokery And Riddle-me-ree, and ME.

"O Captain! My Captain!" is a poem written by Walt Whitman in 1865 about the death of U.S. President Abraham Lincoln. Walt Whitman lived from May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892 and was an American poet, essayist, and journalist.  O Captain! My Captain! BY WALT WHITMAN  O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

This is a short poem about a little girl/boy sitting on her/his favorite step on the stairs. It is a fun poem and I like it. It reminds me of my grandmas staircase.

This is one of my mom's favorite poems. She likes Robert Frost. I think you will like listening to this because it is a rhyming poem, short and fun to listen to.  THE ROAD NOT TAKEN BY ROBERT FROST Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

This poem is a short poem and it is about wind. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I. When the leaves hang trembling, the wind is passing through. You have to listen and see what is next! Who Has Seen the Wind? BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.

This is a poem about color. I hope that you enjoy listening to this funny poem.  Color BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI What is pink? a rose is pink By a fountain's brink. What is red? a poppy's red In its barley bed. What is blue? the sky is blue Where the clouds float thro'. What is white? a swan is white Sailing in the light. What is yellow? pears are yellow, Rich and ripe and mellow. What is green? the grass is green, With small flowers between. What is violet? clouds are violet In the summer twilight. What is orange? Why, an orange, Just an orange!

this is a short poem about a pancake. it is funny. I hope you enjoy the poem.

This is a short poem about a grandmother kissing a lot of little things. She kissed a pumpkin, a crayon, a balloon, a chipmunk. You will have to listen to hear the rest of the poem. I hope you have fun listening to my poem.  Special thanks to Darren Sardelli for giving me permission to read his poem. His poems make me happy. They are funny and sweet poems. You can learn more about Darren Sardelli at laughalotpoetry.com. Hope you enjoy listening to this reading!

This poem is about gathering leaves in the fall and the work that needs to be done each year without stop.  Gathering Leaves BY ROBERT FROST Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as balloons. I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer Running away. But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face. I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use, But a crop is a crop, And who’s to say where The harvest shall stop?

This is a poem about  Recess. Lots of kids are on the playground and they are talking about how Recess makes them happy. Maybe Recess makes you happy, too? I hope you enjoy listening to this poem.   Special thanks to Darren Sardelli for giving me permission to read his poem. This poem is from his book, Galaxy Pizza And Meteor Pie. Darren Sardelli is one of my favorite poets. His poems make me happy. They are funny and sweet poems. You can learn more about Darren Sardelli at laughalotpoetry.com. Hope you enjoy listening to this reading!

This is about Daffodils dancing in the breeze. It is one of England's most famous poems. Wordsworth wrote it in 1804, remembering a walk with his sister two years earlier. It was first published in 1807. Launch Audio in a New WindowI Wandered Lonely as a Cloud BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

In this story Frog buys toad a hat for his birthday. When the hat is too big for Toad, he trips and bumps into a tree and falls into a hole. That night Toad thinks big thoughts. You'll have to listen to find out what happens next! and just keep listening!