Make Fun Of Life!

Come Join Us for a Hayride

1/24/2019

Come Join Us for a Hayride

The wagon waiting by the barn
     Is filled with new-mown hay,
So come and join us for a ride
     At eventide today.

The harvest moon will lead us
     Down the shadowed winding lane;
And as we cuddle close, we’ll sing,
     An old time refrain.

The chilly breeze at dusk will bring
     The scent of ripened wheat.
What other scent has nature made
     More delicately sweet!

Beyond the cornstalks piled high
     Like wigwams, we will pass
And gather golden pumpkins from the
     Frosty meadow grass.

Then dreaming solitary dreams
     Of other autumns past
When we were young, we’ll reminisce
     And head back home at last.

There’ll be cider, hot and steamy,
     So please say that you will stay,
And come and join us for a ride
     At eventide today.

by Nita Cain

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Let's Go Coasting

1/18/2019

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Let’s Go Coasting

Let us go coasting
     On my brand-new sled.
It is new and shiny;
     And is painted red!

It is big and roomy;
     We can ride it double.
Two can get on it
     Without any trouble.

You can help me pull it;
     We can ride together.
Let us go coasting,
     For it’s splendid weather!

Get your coat and mittens;
     All the world is white.
Let us go coasting
     While the snow is just right!

by Nona Keen Duffy

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Four Seasons

1/17/2019

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Four Seasons

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
     These are the seasons, four in all.
Weather alternates, sun and rain and snow,
     Leaves fall down or flowers upward grow.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
     These are the seasons, four in all.
Look outside anytime and you will see
     Just what season it is supposed to be!

by Author Unknown

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Leaves

1/2/2019

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Leaves

In autumn when the trees are brown
     The little leaves come tumbling down
They do not make the slightest sound
     But lie so quietly on the ground
Until the wind comes puffing by
     And blows them off towards the sky.

by Author Unknown

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Bed of Leaves

12/30/2018

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Bed of Leaves

The nicest bed I know
     Isn’t a bed of soft white snow.
Isn’t a bed of cool green grass
     After the noisy mowers pass.
Isn’t a bed of yellow hay
     Making me itch for half a day
But Autumn leaves in a pile that high,
     Deep and smelling like fall and dry.
That’s the bed where I like to lie
     And watch the flutters of Fall go by.

by Aileen Fisher

Aileen Lucia Fisher was born on 9 September 1906 in Iron River, Michigan, United States of America. She became a writer of poetry, children’s books, biographies, plays, and magazine articles. Aileen Lucia Fisher passed on at 96 years of age on 2 December 2002 in Boulder, Colorado, United States of America.

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Song of Summer

12/17/2018

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Song of Summer

Here comes a bunny
     The first to stray
Out of April
     And into May.

And here comes a robin
     The first to fly
Out of June
     And into July.

Here are the fireflies
     Last to remember
The end of August
     And first of September.

And here comes a caterpillar
     The last to creep
Out of summer
     And into sleep.

by Margaret Wise Brown

Margaret Wise Brown was born on 23 May 1910 in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. She became a poet and a writer of children’s books. Her published works include, “Goodnight Moon” (1947). Margaret Wise Brown passed on at 42 years of age on 13 November 1952 in Nice, France.

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Winter

12/12/2018

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Winter

Cold and raw the north wind doth blow,
     Bleak in the morning early;
All the hills are covered with snow,
     And winter’s now come fairly.

When the Snow is on the Ground
     The little robin grieves
When the snow is on the ground,
     For the trees have no leaves,
And no berries can be found.

The air is cold, the worms are hid;
     For robin here what can be done?
Let’s strow around some crumbs of bread,
     And then he’ll live till snow is gone.

by Author Unknown

* strow: an old form of the word ‘strew,’ which means ‘to scatter, or throw about in a disorderly manner.’

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Wishing for Tomorrow

11/23/2018

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Wishing for Tomorrow

To see the tulips peek their heads
To see the green of lawns
To feel the warmth of quiet sunshine
To see the young foals romping
     But this is winter and I long for spring.

To have a picnic in the park
To see the harvest fields of grain
To see the visitors to the mountain
To ride horseback up the trails
     But this is spring and I long for summer.

To see the changing colors of the leaves
To see the children waiting for the bus
To feel the crispness in the air
To see the frost on the garden
     But this is summer and I long for fall.

To see the beautiful banks of snow
To see the Christmas lights on trees
To spend some time on the ski slopes
To enjoy a long President’s Day weekend
     But this is fall and I long for winter.

To wish for seasons still to come
To wish away one’s life.
How much better to enjoy
The seasons as they are
     Than always wishing for tomorrow.

by Bob Ohlsen

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Autumn

10/23/2018

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Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,
     The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
     The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
     The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
     I’ll put a trinket on.

by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson was born on 10 December 1830 in Amherst, Massachusetts, United States of America. Though considered one of the great poets, she was shy and reclusive. She never married, seldom left her house, and had few visitors. Only seven of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime, all anonymously. Emily Dickinson passed on at 55 years of age on 15 May 1886 in Amherst, Massachusetts, United States of America. The first collection of her verse, titled “Poems,” was published four years later.

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Winter Animals

10/2/2018

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Winter Animals

Winter is cold
     There is snow in the sky
The squirrel gathers nuts
     And the wild geese fly
The fluffy red fox
     Has his fur to keep warm
The bear’s in her cave
     Sleeping all through the storm.

by Author Unknown

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Spring Is Here

9/18/2018

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Spring Is Here

Spring is here,
     In the air,
You can smell it coming,
     On the trees,
Leaves are green,
     Caterpillars sunning.

Birds are back,
     Grass is out,
Busy bees are humming,
     On the trees,
Leaves are green,
     Caterpillars sunning.

by Author Unknown

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At the Beach

9/16/2018

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At the Beach

Summer brings us nice warm sun
     For swimming, fishing, and lots of fun;
For finding seashells in the sand;
     For sunbathing to get a tan;
To do all these things and more
     At the beach and seashore.

by Author Unknown

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Spring Rain

9/15/2018

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Spring Rain

The storm came up so very quick
     It couldn’t have been quicker.
I should have brought my hat along;
     I should have brought my slicker.

My hair is wet, my feet are wet,
     I couldn’t be much wetter.
I fell into a river once
     But this is even better.

by Marchette Chute

Marchette Gaylord Chute was born on 16 August 1909 in Wayzata, Minnesota, United States of America. She became a biographer, a fiction writer, and a poet. Marchette Gaylord Chute passed on at 84 years of age on 6 May 1994 in Montclair, New Jersey, United States of America.

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An Autumn Greeting

9/2/2018

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An Autumn Greeting

“Come,” said the Wind to the Leaves one day.
“Come over the meadow and we will play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold.
For summer is gone and the days grow cold.”

by Author Unknown

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The Wind and the Leaves

8/20/2018

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The Wind and the Leaves

“Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day.
     “Come o’er the meadows with me, and play
Put on your dress of red and gold, -
     Summer is gone, and the days grow cold.”

Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call,
     Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
     Singing the soft little songs they knew.

“Cricket, good-by, we’ve been friends so long;
     Little brook, sing us your farewell song, -
Say you are sorry to see us go;
     Ah! you will miss us, right well we know.”

“Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,
     Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we’ve watched you in vale and glade;
     Say, will you dream of our loving shade?”

Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went;
     Winter had called them, and they were content.
Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
     The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

by George Cooper

Which of the seasons is this poem about?

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The Miracle

8/17/2018

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The Miracle

I had waited all the winter for a sign
     Something wondrous, a miracle divine;
Today it came, a very lovely thing,
     A crocus in the close a-blossoming.
Blue wings a-gleam, a song bird’s sweetest strain,
     In gladness for spring’s miracle again.

by Annie Stone

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A Winter Surprise

7/14/2018

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A Winter Surprise

Last night while I was sleeping
     The snow came softly down
And slipped on all the shrubbery
     A shining snowflake gown.

I guess that every little bush
     Felt startled with surprise
To find itself a cotton plant
     On opening up its eyes.

by Solveig Paulson Russell

Solveig Paulson Russell was born on 28 March 1904 in Salt Lake City, Utah, United States of America. She was a schoolteacher, a writer of children’s books, and a poet. She wrote 45 books and more than 3,400 items for periodicals. Among her books are, “Twist and Twine: The Story of Cordage” (1969) and “Peanuts, Popcorn, Ice Cream, Candy, and Soda Pop, and How They Began” (1970).

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Springtime

7/13/2018

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Springtime

A small green frog
     On a big brown log;
A black and yellow bee
     In a little green tree;
A red and yellow snake
     By a blue-green lake,
All sat and listened
     To a red bird sing,
“Wake up, everybody,
     It’s spring! It’s spring!”

by Author Unknown

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We See Leaves

7/8/2018

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We See Leaves

We see orange,
     We see brown,
We see leaves,
     On the ground.

We see yellow,
     We see red,
We see leaves,
     Above our head.

by Author Unknown

Which one of the four seasons of the year does this poem describe?

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The First Robin

7/8/2018

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The First Robin

Through the chill of an early April rain
     I hear the note of a sweet refrain -
Has the robin come so soon?
     Heavy and dull are the skies without,
And my heart is filled with a dreary doubt,
     But the song is a song of June.

Robin, robin, you shame my faith,
     Your cheery song to my spirit saith:
Believe, and away with fear:
     I am not afraid, though the cold winds blow,
I am come at the call of God, and know
     That spring is surely here.

“So I seek my mate, and I build my nest,
     And I sing my song with a keener zest,
For the joy that is yet to be;
     Already the fullness of joy I share,
When my nest shall swing in the summer air
     On the bough of the maple-tree.”

Sing on, brave robin, your song shall be
     An inspiration of faith to me,
I, too, will begin to sing.
     Though my heart is chilled, and my pulse is low,
And my hopes lie buried under the snow,
     I am sure of a coming spring.

by Maria Upham Drake

Maria Upham Drake was born on 2 October 1847 in Baptist, Oklahoma, United States of America. She was a poet and a lecturer. Maria Upham Drake passed on at 72 years of age on 16 September 1920 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America.

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