Level 1 Poems

Please, Dad

By Michael Anderson
Read by Ana

As soft winds sweep away the days
I look back on life through a haze.
Remember playgrounds, parks and friends,
In childlike gaze that never ends.
The laughter in a game of catch,
Shall memory ever attach…
To innocence in youthful eyes,
Catching the ball to Dad’s surprise.

I recall my first bike, first wreck,
Who picked me up, said, “What the heck?”
Convinced me to give one more try,
While, knees skinned, I forgot to cry.
Just the joy knowing he was there,
Making him proud my only care.
There was nothing I couldn’t do,
My heart held fast that to be true.

Though teenage years were kind of rough,
I sure wasn’t too big or tough.
You taught me to defend what’s right
And never back down from a fight.
So I learned the hard way to stand,
Still, with each lump, I found your hand.
Drawing from you an inner strength,
And stubborn pride of equal length.

Please, Dad, today just hear my call,
I’m sorry that I dropped the ball.
My life is wrecked, my knees are skinned,
My emotions undisciplined.
I can’t get up although I try,
Please don’t be upset if I cry.
Though I can’t fight what I can’t see,
Please, Dad, say you’re still proud of me.

 

The visionary

By ???
Read by Ion
 
He had a dream
and shared it with the world;
Many listened but others 
would not;
Many learned lessons taught;
Others, sadly, soon forgot;
Nor does it matter, the colour
of his Word,
black or white,whatever,
but its naming, shaming…
exposing pain, prejudices,
homing in on humanity’s
weaknesses – if only to show
how far,yet, we have to go
before life means more than stitch and seam
make good patches,
putting all humanity
through its paces,
conjuring up a united front
in all the right places;
For all that glisters is not gold
nor all that’s aged
grown old, however much
we may have seen since
Time began and taught us
how to dream- that some day,
humanity may run true,
without having to shoot down
any living thing that flies
too close for comfort…
whether wings of a dove
bringing Peace and Love
or free voices reminding us 
we have choices
 

She walks in beauty

By Lord Byron
Read by Danny
She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light 
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more,one ray the less
Had half impaired the nameless grace;
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure,how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek,and o’er that brow
So soft,so calm,yet eloquent;
The smiles that win,the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent;
A mind at peace with all below
A heart whose love is innocent. 
 
 

Trees

By Joyce Kilmer
Read by Natalia

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

I Love You So Much

By Susan Polis Schutz
Read by Maria

 
Since I met you
I have been so happy
except that I find
myself worrying all the time –
worrying that I might disappoint you
worrying that our relationship might end
worrying that you might not be happy
worrying that something might happen to you
I have fallen in love with you
and I guess I worry so much
because I care about you so much 

Pure imagination

By Roald Dahl
Read by Sergiu

Come with me and you’ll be
In a world of pure imagination
Take a look and you’ll see
Into your imagination

We’ll begin with a spin
Trav’ling in the world of my creation
What we’ll see will defy
Explanation

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Want to change the world, there’s nothing to it

There is no life I know
To compare with pure imagination
Living there, you’ll be free
If you truly wish to be 

 

A White Rose

By John Boyle O’Reilly 1844–1890
Read by Jorge
  
THE red rose whispers of passion,  
  And the white rose breathes of love;  
Oh, the red rose is a falcon,  
  And the white rose is a dove.  
 
But I send you a cream-white rosebud         
  With a flush on its petal tips;  
For the love that is purest and sweetest  
  Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
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