The wren

Wren, oh wren,
you King of the birds,
listen to me
and hear my words.

Come right here
and fight me now,
I'll take your crown
For this I vow.

Although you have
a powerful voice,
to me its just
a terrible noise.

 Your tail that you
stick in the air.
Listen to me,
it looks bad there.

Your big long beak
you think so fine
is awfully weak
compared with mine.

Your time has come
and you must die
as light's returning to the sky.

The world will turn
and now I thrive
and sadly you
can't stay alive.

The wren flew up
into a tree.
He sat quite still,
he did not flee.

The robin flew
above the wren
and struck him
with his talons, then

the wren fell down
and hit the ground.
A lifeless body
people found.

The robin sat
upon the tree.
A victory song
he sang to me.

Toblerone (by special request)

There's one thing I would like to own
A nice delicious Toberone
I wouldn't give it to my mum
Coz even though she'd give me some
I know that I would eat it all
That Toblerone is very small
I wish the Toblerone was bigger
I'd have to fetch it in a digger

written down in best handwriting for Nick   June 2015

How to cook a teacher (rhythm of the Sugar plumb fairy)

However do you cook at teacher?

I wanna go and cook my giant teacher

I love eating teacher

Has to be my teacher

Chocolate teacher

Tasty teacher

Vanilla teacher.

First you boil him in a saucepan

Yes, you have to boil him in a saucepan

Boil him in a saucepan

Boil him in a saucepan

Cook him right now

In the sauce pan

Them you take him out.

Then you pick him up and salt him

Then you have to stick him in the oven

Cook him for ten minutes

Roast him for ten minutes

Then you have to

Chop him up and

Serve him to Charlie.

The Wren

Wren oh wren
You king of birds
Listen to me
And hear my words

Come right here
And fight me now
I'll take your crown
For this I vow

Although you have
A powerful voice
To me it's just
A dreadful noise

Your tail, that you
Stick in the air
Listen to me
It looks bad there

Your big long beak
You think so fine
It's awfully weak
Compared to mine

Your time has come
And you must die
As light's returning
To the sky

The world will turn
And now I thrive
And sadly you
Can't stay alive

The wren flew up
Into a tree
He sat quite still
And did not fee

The robin flew
Above the wren
And struck him
With his talons, then

Down the wren fell
And hit the ground
A lifeless body
People found
The robin sat
Upon the tree
A victory song
He sang to me.

Poem created by Tom Walters with Nick owen

Vote for our national bird or stay at home with family favourites..

Since we are not allowed to campaign today, I thought I would share Tom's family favourites poem with you. Check out the earlier posts we did on birds standing for election today . Maybe the poems we shared so far will help you make up your mind.

http://www.votenationalbird.com/#vote

My own Barn Owl shot

Candidates are

The Swan 

The Puffin

The Blackbird

The Wren (in progress)

The King fisher (my poem added here for interest)

The Red Kite

The Robin

The Hen Harrier

The Barn Owl

The Blue Tit

Family Favourites                                   by  Tom

A Wispa is delicious

They’re very very nice

And although you’ll think I’m vicious

I would steal yours in a trice.

There’s one thing I would like to own

A nice delicious Toblerone

I wouldn’t give it to my mum

‘Cos even though she’d give me some

I know that I would eat it all

That Toblerone is very small

I wish the Toblerone was bigger

I’d  have to fetch it in a digger

My brother, he likes Jelly Tots

And though he likes them lots and lots

They often bring him out in spots

And then he’ll have to go to bed

Especially if the spots are red

And go to sleep like mummy said

But if the spots are also blue

We won’t know what we’ll have to do

But hope he vomits in the loo

I think I’d like to eat your toes

They’d taste much nicer than your nose

I don’t think they would taste delicious

Even if they are nutritious

I think they might be tasty food

But only if I’m in the mood

My own poem adds the Barn Owl and the Kingfisher to the mix

Sadly we did not finish poems on the other birds in time for election day.

King Fisher

Today I saw the kingfisher

Resplendent in a tree

This is really something

That makes a difference to me

Oh, I have seen a badger

That came begging at my door

I saw him round the wheely bins

A hundred times or more

The first time that I saw him

Was a very big surprise

Opening my back door

To his big soft upturned eyes

And I have seen three foxes

At a moon-lit mile cross meet

Each departing different ways

From my approaching feet

And I have known two barn owls

As companions on the road

Flying along beside me

Like a destiny bestowed

I used to see the kingfisher

Blue arrow down the river

Each time I saw his brilliant hew

My body gave a shiver

But now I've seen the Kingfisher

Go diving in the stream

Did he catch a tiny trout

Was this my Fisher King

Contentedly he flew past me

Wings bluer than the sky

And could it be, he winked at me

As he swept by

At last I watched the kingfisher

Go perching in a tree

This is really something

Makes all the difference to me

  

Copyright Nick Owen

The swan: another candidate for our National Bird

The Swan

Look at the swan.

He won’t be gone

He’s only busking.

Look at the swan.

He won’t be gone

He’s just a busking.

The swan is lifting up his wings,

Immense and white and powerful things.

Above the water feathers sweep,

Enough to make the fearful weep.

For when these wings begin to flap

He really is a scary chap.

These dreadful wings make such a threat;

And does it scare me?  Yes.  You bet.

He does this busking every day

So nothing bad can come his way.

He isn’t bothered by a boat.

He hates some other things that float.

And fish and birds, and you and me

He hates them all, most things he sees

His long and pointy orange beak

Is like a snowy mountain peak.

Although we cannot see his feet

They are still going, beat, beat, beat

But if the breathing was to stop

The swan would shout, “Oh.  Fizzle Pop.”

The Puffin: a poem for the National Bird competition

It's often late in April
when the puffins all arrive,
and soon they've started breeding
so the colony can thrive.

The thing about the puffin
is its most amazing beak.
If he wasn't quite so handsome
then you'd say he was a freak.

Trying to describe that beak;
it's like a wonky cone.
It's really hard to miss him;
he's a picture with your phone.
The most surprising thing
about the mum and daddy puffin
is how they use those great big beaks
and all the fish they stuff in.

All the puffin babies
are called pufflings, don't you know?
Without those bright red beaks
it's hard to find them in the snow.

But somehow mum and dad
come home and find them on their ledge.
They were getting bored, so they
decided to go fledge.

The pufflings fly out on the sea
but soon become confused
The lights from town mislead them
and their mums are not amused.

The pufflings crash into the streets
to mum and dad's dismay,
but lots of human children come
and help them on their way.

The children hunt the pufflings
where they're hiding in the dark
They carry great big flash lights
and they catch them in the park.

When morning comes they carry
all the pufflings to the sea.
They're kept in cardboard boxes
which seems slightly odd to me.

Before you throw the pufflings off
you have to hold them right
You grip them by their bodies
So the wings are free for flight.

Written by Nick and Tom for the National Bird choosing project

The red kite

Ooh! Is it night time already
I think I'll go and get my teddy
Wait! It looks like day again
Or maybe it was just a plane
Flying by
Across the sky                                                      

Oh dear! Perhaps it was a kite
Which turned my daytime into night
I hope that he will disappear
But how to cope if he comes near?

I think I'd better dig a hole
And dig it quicker than a mole
He will not see me form the sky
He might as well move on and sigh.

But oh-what's this? What have I found?
I found it close under the ground
Oh dear-it seems to be a rock
My quick escape it's sure to block.

And so he raised his head again,
Which roved he had but little brain.
Oh dear, oh dear; what's this I see?
Oh help! A kite! Now I must flee.

Long reddish feathers swooping by
Suddenly filled up the sky
Two golden talons are grabbing me
A yellow beak is eating me.

Tom had a wonderful idea of a worm's eye view for this poem about the red kite.
It lives mostly off worms. I think he has carried off the idea very well.

What do you think, dear reader?

The Kestrel

http://www.rspb.org.uk/discoverandenjoynature/discoverandlearn/birdguide/name/k/kestrel/

I very much enjoy taking children and adults on mindful walks through English nature. The things we find and photograph become subjects for nature poetry.

Out on a poem-picture walk, Tom and I  saw and photographed a Kestrel, hovering by the river bank and then flying over some scrub-land. Kestrels have become fairly rare around Oxfordshire, where they used to be very common. There are signs of a comeback, I think.

I am not sure what a normal child of nine would make of Hopkins' Wind Hover, but Tom found it helpful in constructing our poem about this small but fascinating raptor.


Kestrel, Kestrel
Why do you fly so low in the sky?
If I was a bird
I'd call it absurd
Not to go flying impossibly high.

Well, Hello Tom, my friend
I am not round the bend
It's just I like flying quite low
And then you'll agree that it's easy to see
All of those creatures below.

How on earth do you manage to hover so much
When it's blowing a gale in the sky?
It's the way I evolved;
It's a problem that's solved;
And I really don't have to know why.

Sometimes you look like the angel of death
Oh, why do you steal from these creatures, their breath?
They make such very tasty meals.
I love to take a thing that squeals
And I don't care if it appeals.

Getting started

Occasionally you find a child who really likes writing poetry, and even prefers poetry to prose.

I have worked with many children over the years, in and out of schools, some of whom had refused to write anything at all until they were inspired to pick up a pen by my fairy tales about modern children's lives, "Telling it like it is."

I have developed an approach to teaching based on co-creativity where the student and I write poems together.

We start with rhyme and rhythm and go on from there.

It can be enormous fun.

Everyone enjoys a Limerick and that is where we start.

Here is an offering from Tom Walters

The Spider

My auntie is really a spider

So, some people cannot abide her

She likes to spin webs

With all of her legs

Catching flies that go wiggle inside her