Perfect nature poems written by you...
(If you've written a poem about wonderful wildlife you can send it in to us and it might get featured on this page or in the magazine).
Autumn is a time of year - Claudia van Essen, aged 11
Autumn is a time of year,
when leaves fall off the trees.
It's the season when you give 3 cheers,
it's when you can hear the buzzing bees.
Nature is at its best this season,
than any other time,
that is why I tell you the reason,
that this is the best time to rhyme.
Leaves softly falling to the ground
like little quiet mice.
The sound of birds all around,
now I don't need to tell you twice.
Tiny hedgehogs all curled up,
small red fox cubs slinking about.
Squirrels jumping about a stump,
owl flying the forest throughout.
Blackberry, blueberry, raspberry and cranberry,
are some of autumn's special fruit.
Unlike the one called strawberry
there is an acorn that is cute.
Out there, are things many more
which I can not tell,
like how many seeds are in an apple core
and autumn sweat, sweat smell.
The Sounds of Silence - Amy Leonard, aged 11
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What am I? - Alice Parkes, aged 9
Please click on the picture to enlarge!
Animals - Tom, aged 8
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Chloe, aged 9
Mice scatter across the ground
as the owls fly round n round
Food is scarce when winters arriving
rabbits are on the hunt of surviving
As the deer looks for fresh food he is a winner
And foxes hunt for some dinner.
So there are some reasons
why we have 4 seasons.
We float on our backs with babies on our tummies
We're as cute as pups, we eat kelp
We fight over food and we wrestle with each other
By Eliza Archer, aged 6
Bees - by Sophia, aged 7
Woodland Disturbance - by Lauren, aged 15
The wind issues its last breath
Before silence erupts
The birds have the audacity to sing
That breaks the comfort of peace
The endless shrills of woodland birds
Is enough to make the trees groan
I sit here in the quiet
Safe and all alone
An angelic creature tiptoes amongst the green
The birds hush
The wind freezes
No other thing is seen
I witness the life form twitch its ear
And gaze into the distance
It crouched ready to dash
Seemingly for fear
As quickly as it came, it vanished
Leaving no sign behind
That it was ever there
Now from this wood I am banished
By Lauren Brain aged 15
Too much plastic in the sea - by Tony Brooks
Tony raises awareness of the big plastic problem facing us all, through his beautiful poem. Click on the image to see a full-size version of the poem.
Wildlife poem - by Rosie aged 5
Frogs and leaves, bristles in the tress. Cows and galloping horses, still bricks and walls. Flowers and birds are the beauty of the world!
The Robin in the Park - by Julia aged 9
"The robin flew in the sky, The wind blew and way up high, a rainbow came, the sky bright blue, a light shone right down to you.
All the colours shining bright, open your eyes to the light! The moon came out, the sky went dark, there's no more laughter in the park.
The robin smiles and soundly sleeps, he won't wake up until alarm clock beeps. The park is silent, there's not a sound. As the robin sleeps on the mound."
Rufous Flash - by Manvela aged 8
The Secret - by Elan (aged 6) & Kai (aged 7)
The Fox - by Isabel Ward, aged 11
Red shaggy fur was a blur in the trees,
A beautiful fox running with ease,
His hazelnut eyes were fixed on a deer,
Whilst the stag was silently frozen with fear,
The fox took one look & started to run,
but for the poor stag it wasn't much fun,
The fox wasn't looking so the deer slipped away,
He slipped away to live another day.
Norfolk Broads - by Megan Carey, aged 6
Big boats and small
boats sailing on
the rivers moored
up ready for the day
rocking to and fro
Swans as white as snow.
Coots as black
as the dark.
Crested grebes with
that sparkle like
Geese flying in
the misty sky.
Rivers like spilled
Rivers like blue
Summer Scene - by Claudia van Essen, aged 10
Summers are so warm.
Under the trees I see.
Millions of rays from the sun.
Minibeasts watching me from the sky.
Running rivers to play in.
Skys so blue above you and
Clouds flying by without a sound.
Extreme rides for fun.
Nature is so amazing.
Extreme sunlight is so nice.
Tomorrow Land – by Grace
I`ve seen Sutton Coldfield, 2065,
The Park a desert, nothing alive.
We wear special cream and suits to go out,
No wildlife, just dogs scavenging about.
Global climate change is killing our race,
No ozone layer, just hot sun on your face.
This, our future in 2065,
Vultures pick bare bones, nothing left alive.
I`ve seen the future in 100 years
And thought my vision was blurred through my tears.
Sea levels rose when the ice caps melt,
the greenhouse gases made their presence felt.
Sutton Coldfield is now under water:
We all drowned, every so and daughter.
God gave us a garden, a paradise;
Lush green forests, the poles covered in ice:
But human beings destroyed God`s creation,
Out of Eden and far from salvation.
Falconry hunt - by Jack Bradbury
Highly trained, free from the fist
Searching for quarry, perched on the wrist.
At any moment, prey could bolt
The bird would be off with a powerful jolt.
She's spotted some dinner, she starts to fly,
Her beautiful feathers fan out in sky.
Looking intently at a creature - an animal,
Is it an insect, bird, rodent or mammal?
Below it now, a juicy hare,
The bird has seen it from up in the air.
The hare senses danger, runs away on all fours,
While the bird up above, just flexes her claws.
The chase is now on, the hare sprints for its life,
Above him those toes, as sharp as a knife.
Up in the wind, the bird's watching the creature,
Where shall I kill it; what body feature?
The hare spots a bush, from the corner of his eye,
What he doesn't know is that he's about to die.
Because seconds later, the bird comes for her meal,
Swoops down and kills it, with talons like steel.
Please note :
The bird in this poem is a harris hawk.
Not quite as large as a Maribou stork!!
The Prey by Jack Bradbury
In the air, the buzzard flies,
Searching the ground with those evil eyes.
Down below he sees a juicy rabbit,
Swoops down and catches it;
A buzzard’s habit.
In the mountains, the golden eagle hunts,
He can’t find his food but carries on with his stunts.
As the hunt goes on, he feels thinner and thinner,
Until he spots prey, that he would call dinner.
The red kites are searching for lovely dead meat,
Catching live animals is not up their street.
One finds a target and tears it up with his beak,
Above him, another kite’s having a peak.
The flashing white barn owl swoops close to the ground,
Silently gliding, not making a sound.
Back in the barn, her babies await,
She returns, frustrated, it’s the turn of her mate.