Poems of a life time

I love thease poems do you?

Halfway Down

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 isn't down. It isn't in the nursery, It isn't in the town. And all kinds of funny thoughts Go running round my head: "It isn't really anywhere! It's somewhere else instead!"

Macavity - the Mystery Cat,
by T.S. Eliot

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw -
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air -
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

Mcavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square -
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!

And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -
But it's useless to investigate - Mcavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
`It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long-division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spaer:
At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

They are just amazing
this blog post was posted by Sophie Ladley

Descriptions

Here is a description of someone I made up:


She stood there small with red beady eyes. Her lips crumpled and had bright red lip stick on them. Her hair was grey and bedraggled and she also had a small red hat on. Her skin was wrinkled she wore a long blue dress with flowers along it. Upon her feet she wore brown leather shoes with big silver buckles. Skin colour stockings and a peach cardigan, she also wore. She was very skinny and cautious snooped around at night. She could tell many story's of what she had seen. But she did not say a word.

Another description:

She looked at me with soft milky green eyes, and her lips were a light peachy colour. When she spoke it was like the wind on the sea brushing past you. Her hair was chestnut with loose curls, it flowed like the ripples on the ocean. She wore a crimson top with baggy sleeves and pale green leggings that flowed in to her black buckled boots. Her face was pale she had a loving gaze. She would always talk, tell little tales.

One more description:

She staggered towards me, she was plump and short. She would bellow each word and never shut up. She was a laugh. She stumbled as she walked. Her eyes were blue, she had a perfect blond  bob with a curl at the end. She had pink lips and rosy red cheeks. She was always happy and would never sigh. She wore a long sleeved green top and grey cords and right at the bottom she would wear red converse.

Last Description:

She looked evil, she was. Her eyes were black and like never ending black holes. Her nose was small. Black lips lay upon her face. Her hair was long and straight, it was red. She hunched over as she walked. She had a mad stare and dark cackle. She wore a long black dress with a long black hooded cloak that was torn and battered. If you passed her she would suck the life out of you!

My Poem

Surprise

There's a little box,

with a bow on top,

"open me." it's saying,

I don't know what it is,

all I know is its sitting there gleaming at me.

The lid slides off,

the surprise cannot hide,

do you know what it is?

"Woof" should I tell you what it is?

Could it's face mean trouble,

or is it just up for a cuddle,

do you know what it is?

Well it's a puppy of coarse.

this is a poem I wrote at school and my teacher said it was amazing!!

This post was written by Sophie Ladley.






Image from - graphicsfairy.blogspot.com

Another poem I wrote!

Without Seasons 

NO copper leaves falling down down down,

NO shedding leaves for winter to come all around,

NO little chill in the air,

NO Harvest fair,

now moving on 

NO joy and presents for every one!

NO silky white winters with frost on the ground,

NO unique little snow flacks falling all around,

NO little birds puffing up a feather,

NO mounts and mounts of snow covered heather. 

NO new time to melt into spring,

NO flower to ping,

NO baby birds to chirp chirp chirp,

NO sly little cat to lurk,

NO baby foxes playing in the sun,

you'd think its all over but it's no nearly done!

Cos next comes summer,

NO jump in the sea,

NO heat from the sun just for me,

NO ripe fruit berries,

NO time to be merry,

cos soon it won't be Harvest,

and then it will start up all over again!

By Sophie Ladley

Images from-

telegraph.co.uk

uiuccmda.wordpress.com 

allposters.co.uk

chloesbiglife.blogspot.com