Poems by Paul L. Kennedy

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Childhood Memories
- Published: April 2020
Remembering Fun Times Of Childhood

in Change Poems

I was happy when I was a lad.
It wasn't all good, but it wasn't half bad.

We played with sticks we played with stones;

I was happy when I was a lad.
It wasn't all good, but it wasn't half bad.

We played with sticks we played with stones;
we built ourselves dens that we called homes.

We explored the woods, we climbed the trees,
and we played with marbles on our knees.

Conkers in season we threaded with string.
If your opponent missed, your knuckles would sting.

We built trolleys with old pram wheels.
We were often too busy to go home for our meals.

We made catapults, bows and arrows and spears,
quite often resulting in painful tears.

We scrumped apples, plums and pears;
of getting caught, we had no cares.

In fact, we were often caught, and our ears clipped,
no smart replies - we never lipped.

During the long school summer holidays when the sun shone bright,
we played outside from morning to night.

War games, tin can tommy, hide and seek,
Such fun we'd have, what havoc we'd wreak.

Raiding allotments, pinching what grew.
We'd get a good hiding if our parents knew.

Round blazing open fires on logs we would sit.
In the pitch-black night our faces it lit.

We'd have singsongs and tell tales of ghosts,
of things we had done, exaggerated boasts.

Now looking back, such a long time it seems.
Sometimes I wonder was it all in my dreams.

But then I remember all the things that I did
could only be done when I was a kid!
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Sitting Here Pen In Hand, Brain In Neutral!
- Published: January 2020
Sitting Down To Write A Poem

in Creative Poems

I want to write a poem, but I don't know where to start.
Should it be an ode to love and come straight from the heart?

Or should it wax lyrical of sky and moon and stars,

I want to write a poem, but I don't know where to start.
Should it be an ode to love and come straight from the heart?

Or should it wax lyrical of sky and moon and stars,
or of planets of our universe Pluto, Jupiter, or Mars?

It could be of the flora or fauna of this, our wonderful land,
or of walking barefoot on a lonely beach kicking up the sand.

Of countries and of places where the surroundings seem so strange,
frozen lands, dense jungles, valleys deep and of vast mountain's range.

Rivers long, the life blood of lands they pass along their way,
irrigating crops and refreshing thirsts continually night and day.

Or of the sheer beauty of Mother Nature we can experience all around,
from the gigantic right down to microscopic, many wondrous things abound.

Maybe of the sadness felt when the highest price is paid,
be it that of unselfish sacrifice of life or whenever it is made.

Well, after all those varied thoughts, I have no idea how to carry on.
I only wish I had learned some music, and then I'd have written a song!
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It's SNOT Funny
- Published: April 2018
Funny Poem About An Elephant

in Animal Poems for Kids

It's "snot" funny being an elephant when you need to blow your nose.
My trunk is long, and I have no hands as I'm sure the whole world knows.

And where would I keep my tissues, as pockets I have none,

It's "snot" funny being an elephant when you need to blow your nose.
My trunk is long, and I have no hands as I'm sure the whole world knows.

And where would I keep my tissues, as pockets I have none,
so having a runny nose for me is really not much fun.

Another major drawback is because my trunk is so long,
it has to be blown so very hard, and I'm really not that strong.

That's all fine when you're an adult, and fully grown up too,
but not if you're just a little calf like me; then it's very hard to do.

Mother Nature is a wondrous thing, but in the case of me,
she hasn't done me any favors, of that I'm sure you see.

The answer might just be, if only my trunk was much shorter,
but there again how would I be able to suck up any water?

This, my friends, is an evolutionary problem that I cannot see going away.
My Woolly Mammoth ancestors must have suffered in the exact same way.

But I suppose there's no sense in complaining, if I did to whom would it be?
As our trunks have been part of being an elephant for millions of years of history

So next time you see an elephant, just remember these words that you've read,
and think yourself lucky that you haven't got such a thing permanently attached to your head.
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Sleepyhead
- Published: January 2020
Getting Up Mornings For School

in School Poems For Kids

Oh, please let me have another half hour in bed.
It feels like the pillow is stuck to my head.

I'm cozy and I'm warm and my dreams are all nice.

Oh, please let me have another half hour in bed.
It feels like the pillow is stuck to my head.

I'm cozy and I'm warm and my dreams are all nice.
I don't want to face a day of frost and of ice,

My eyes keep on closing, my brain's in a fuzz.
If I don't get up soon, I'll miss the school bus.

Why is the best sleep when it's time to arise?
I only wish now I could open my eyes.

I'm drifting again; the world's going dim;
it's the Land of Nod that I'm entering in.

Then suddenly I'm awake, with a start and a jump.
I say to myself you are a great chump.

School is no-go, at least for today.
Why is that so? Because it's Saturday-hooray.
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Featured Shared Story

How many times have we all woken in the morning and felt that lovely warm cosy feeling of being snuggled up safely in our bed, and rather not get up and face the cold harsh real world?

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An English Winter's Day
- Published: January 2020
Morning Walk In Winter

in Winter Poems

On those cold and frosty winter's mornings when the grass crunches beneath your feet,
and you're wrapped up in layers, hats and scarves, as is everyone else you meet

When each time you exhale a breath of steam quickly disappears into the chilled air,

On those cold and frosty winter's mornings when the grass crunches beneath your feet,
and you're wrapped up in layers, hats and scarves, as is everyone else you meet

When each time you exhale a breath of steam quickly disappears into the chilled air,
and any part of you that is open or exposed is numbed and quickly covered, or beware

Often every outside surface is dusted with winter's cold makeup white,
and Jack Frost at your nose your ears and fingertips tries to take a bite.

Icicles form to look just like the teeth of some long since past prehistoric beast.
Winter's grip in some places on this our Earth holds on; we hope never ever to cease.

The winter sun is low in the sky and its weak rays have little warmth, if any.
God's creatures brave the cold in search of food, but really not that many.

Snug in their winter's long sleep, others see neither day nor night.
The world outside of which they knew now blanketed cold and white.

Eventually when the night draws in and there are no clouds and the sky is clear,
and the only light is from the moon, its silvery glow throughout the heavens appear.

The temperature drops until the very air you breathe chills your lungs with every gasp,
and even the tiniest sound seems to be magnified and its echo all around is cast.

And when the morning light again returns as the sun is again risen from its slumber,
the beauty of our treasured land we once more behold, with eyes of awe and wonder.
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- Rating 4.18
Featured Shared Story

Thank you for your kind words, it's a great feeling to know that something I wrote is enjoyed by others, and those so far away. Kind regards -Paul

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1 - 5 of 5

Poems by Paul L. Kennedy

Childhood Memories

Sitting Here Pen In Hand, Brain In Neutral!

It's SNOT Funny

Sleepyhead

An English Winter's Day