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Limericks
There once was a man from Old Bar
Who had a very strange car&
Help with essay on Poems
It was blue with white spots
And yellow polka dots
And on the top there was a pink star.
There once was a man from Sirreat
Who dearly loved to eat
He ate so much that
He became really fat
And couldn't see down to his feet
Haiku
Rain, rain cooling drops
Pitter patter on the roof
Oh beautiful rain
Ballad
I went to war that downcast day
The sky was grey and somber
I left my wife and kids behind
I went on a big bomber
When I arrived at Vietnam
My friends were all but dead
The enemy had sought them out
Then left them while they bled
It was too easy to get lost
In that forsaken jungle
When we were in that cursed war
There was no time for bungle
It rained and rained and never stopped
The mud was ankle deep
But by the time the night had fallen
There was no time for sleep
The dreary war went on for years
The death toll got so high
Until the president told us
To wave and say goodbye
On our way home, our plane was shot
We fell down with a cry
I was the only person there
Who didn't burn and die
For twenty-seven miles I trekked
Until I wasn't alone
The enemy had captured me
And beat me with their stone
They took me to their camp of war
And kept me there for years
Until they finally set me free
Escaping from my fears
When I got home my kids had gone,
Had families of their own
My wife was dead and I was left
Sorrowed and alone
And now I leave you with these words
Don't ever go to war
Unless you wish to lose your life,
Your family and your all.
Acrostic poem
Around me I heard the shouting of dying men
Next to me my best friend was shot dead
Zero. That's how many expected war to be bad
Arrival had the biggest death toll
Constant news of my soldiers dying came to me
Dreading waking up each day
At Gallipoli I was captured.
Year after year at that prisoner of war camp
Task
Students read widely to find a poem of their own choice which they have enjoyed. The poem of choice will be accompanied by a written explanation as to why they liked (and chose) the poem.
MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE
Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;
He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
The grinning shop assistant said, Excuse me, can you ride?
See here, young man, said Mulga Bill, from Walgett to the sea,
From Conroys Gap to Castlereagh, theres none can ride like me.
Im good all round at everything as everybody knows,
Although Im not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.
But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;
Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight.
Theres nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,
Theres nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,
But what Ill sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight
Ill ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight.
Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,
That perched above Dead Mans Creek, beside the mountain road.
He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,
But ere hed gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.
It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver steak,
It whistled down the awful slope, towards the Dead Man's Creek.
It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box
The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,
The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,
As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.
It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,
It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;
And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek
It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Mans Creek.
Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore
He said, Ive had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;
Ive rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,
But this was the most awful ride that Ive encountered yet.
Ill give that two-wheeled outlaw best; its shaken all my nerve
To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.
Its safe at rest in Dead Mans Creek, well leave it lying still;
A horses back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill.
A. B. Paterson
The poem I have chosen is Mulga Bill's Bicycle By A. B. Paterson .I like, and have chosen, this poem because it is humorous, it tells a story of a man catching the cycling craze, then when someone asks him if he knows how to ride he boasts saying everyone knows I'm the best at everything. When he tries to ride he goes out of control and falls into the Dead Mans Creek. The poem also uses metaphor e.g. but riding is my special gift. It has a rhyming scheme of AABBCC etc.
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