Transcript

MUSIC

Let's have some fun 

with things that rhyme

welcome Kids 

it's poetry time!

Hip Hip Hurray!

Welcome everyone to Kids’ Poetry Club with me, Little Dazzy Donuts. I’m heading into the Club for our last-minute preparations so that we’re ready for Monday’s awards ceremony when we’ll announce the winners of the poetry and art competition on the topic of Home. We’ve already released the names of the Finalists on kidspoetryclub.com, and so we’re really close to the big day. As I said to Queenie and Chicken earlier, we’re in the home stretch now!

They kindly offered to come into the Club to help me get it set up, and so I bet they’re in there waiting for me. Well, I just arrived at the Club, so let’s head in to see what’s happening.

SOUND (Door)

Queenie: Okay, Chicken …. Now bend down to touch your toes… and hold that position for a few seconds.

SOUND (Chicken)

Hi Queenie … Hi Chicken.

Queenie: Oh, hi Little Dazzy Donuts. Sorry – I can’t chat right now …. All of the blood appears to be rushing to my head and things are starting to spin…. Okay, Chicken, let’s get back up again … and now, let’s lie on our backs, and work on our lumber rotation. I feel like we could get a lot more flexible in our lumber region.

So, what exactly is happening here?

Queenie: Here? Oh, we’re just doing a stretching routine, Little Dazzy Donuts. Chicken has this really cool book on stretching, and so we’re trying out pages 1 to 10. Right now, we’re working on our lumber … and then we’re doing the glutes. Would you like to join us?

It certainly looks interesting …. but I think you’ll find that it’s lumbar with an “a” and not lumber with an “e”.

Queenie: Are you sure?

I am – lumber with an “e” is wood … whereas you’re talking about lumbar with an “a”, which is your lower back.

Queenie: Well, that’s just plain silly. Why would the people who invented our language create two words that sound so similar and yet mean such different things? It’s asking for trouble. Oh well, we’re finished with our stretching now.

So, how come you and Chicken are doing stretches today?

Queenie: It all started when you told us that we’re on the Home Stretch, and Chicken said that stretching was good idea and went off to fetch this book and get into her gym gear … and so, here we are…… Now, what can we be doing to help you prepare for Monday’s awards ceremony?

Well, we’ve announced all of the Finalists on our website, and so I want to make sure that we have the recordings for all of them. It was so difficult to select the Finalists … we have around 35 for poetry, and around 25 for art. That’s the top 10% of all of the entries we received.

SOUND (Chicken)

Queenie: That’s a good question, Chicken. What does 10% mean. Well, let me use an allergy ….

I think you mean use an analogy.

Queenie: That’s what I said … let’s use an allergy …. Actually, I’ll use a food allergy … Let’s imagine that you’re making an ice cream sundae. So, you put some scoops of ice cream into your tall glass … and then, because you like ice cream so much, you add an extra scoop. Then, you spray on some yummy cream … and pour on all of the wonderfully colorful sprinkles … oh my gosh … this is making me sooooo hungry …. And then you place a nice cherry on the very top. Well, that cherry is the 10%. It’s the cherry on the sundae … and now I really really need some ice cream.

How about we all go to get some ice cream when we’re done here?

Queenie: Oh yes please. Obviously, I’d find myself less hungry more often if I simply used fewer food allergies.

I think you mean fewer food analogies! … and yes, you could have a point there. Right, let’s make sure that we have all of the poems loaded in the system. I think there are several that we haven’t loaded yet, so let’s do those now. Here’s one – it’s from Betsy in England and it’s called Home. I’ll play the poem for you now so you can hear how wonderful it is:

Betsy: Home is a place that we respect, That holds memories, treasures and all our tech, A place for love, laughter and stories to share, A place where we show all that we care, Through this time I’ve appreciated it most, No matter how many times I have walked into a post, Our house brings memories that’s for sure, My house has seen them and it wants more. There’s Mum, there’s Dad, and of course me, Wait, there's someone else, cause that’s three, We’re forgetting my annoying bro He’ll put me off, oh no oh no! This house sees days, good and bad, Ones when I’m happy and ones when I’m sad, I’ll always remember these funny times, As I loved my house and made up this rhyme.

Thank you so much Betsy for sending in your poem. I like how you’ve described your home, and you’ve added a lovely touch of humor to it too. I’m so glad that you made up your rhyme about your home, and sent it in to us!

Okay, how about I play you a second one. This is from Alice in Wales, and is also called “Home”. I’ll play the recording now:

Alice: She lived at number ten, On an unassuming street, Where neighbours were plentiful, And cats dozed at her feet. She lived at number ten, Behind a shiny red door, Where china plates adorned the walls, And flowers bloomed on the carpet floor. But soon the plates were collecting dust, The bed was left undone, Now the only food in the fridge, Was a microwave meal for one. Then new neighbours came to visit, Barging in without even knocking, They sat in her chair and told stories, Each tale was a little more shocking. In muddled whispers they shared their secrets, And she offered hers in return, Yet still these strangers refused to leave, So she waited with growing concern. They stalked her in the kitchen, Like predators ready to bite, She'd often find them in her bedroom, Prowling in the dead of night. Their presence polluted her memories, Spindly fingers prodding her mind, Their croaky murmurs drowned out the truth, As they left reality behind. Number ten felt quite different, The door had lost its sheen, Dulled by the shadowed figures, Who to others were unseen. Sometimes she got more visitors, In an attempt to set her free, Who would chit-chat about the weather, And offer her cups of tea. But even their talk of sunshine, Could not calm her raging storm, As she slowly came to realise, That this was the new norm. Number ten is empty now, Though the china plates still stand, But she's moved to somewhere safer, Where she's given a helping hand. A place where she is protected, From the shadows that used to roam, All of the residents in the same boat, At the place my gran calls 'home'.

Thank you so much, Alice. I love when poems that tell a story, especially one that communicates real feelings and experiences. I’m sure that a lot of listeners will relate to your poem, and appreciate how you’ve positioned such a personal account in a really relatable way.

Queenie: I really like that poem too, Little Dazzy Donuts. I tell you what, while you keep loading the poems into the system, Chicken and I will put out the chairs for the awards ceremony. I’m going to leave a space over on the side, as that’s where the sheep will assemble. I’ve been doing the choreography with them, and with one or two exceptions, they are ready. It’s one of the challenges of working with sheep – they come as a flock, and so you just have to accept that every flock contains talented sheep and, let’s say, less talented sheep. All of which is my way of saying that you should manage your expectations when it comes to the sheep choreography.

Don’t worry – I definitely will. So, while the two of you put out chairs, I’ll play you more poetry. This next one poem from Keelin in Ireland and is called The Keys To Happiness. I’ll play it for you now:

Keelin: Dancing flames flicker with shades of gold, In an antique fireplace. So elegant. So old. Curtains of silk hang down like velvety tears. Shielding them away from the world's bitter fears. Glass ornaments shine, lining the silver mantlepiece. As the crackling of flames form an anthem of peace. Diamonds hang from the roof, gleaming with light. Pictures paint the walls, such a magnificent sight. A grand piano stands tall against a cream coloured wall, The sweet sound of magic echoing through the halls. Fingers run across keys, cool under tender skin. The harmonious notes awakening something within. The siren's song embraces the musician's soul. The haunting beauty letting them lose control. They are in their own world, in a melodious land. A world that is ruled by the pianist hands. The inky, black notes swirl like magic through the air. The ring of the keys as they play, so sublime, so fair. The world around them is beautiful, yet they pay it no heed. For in the heaven of tunes, they are free from sickness and greed. In their musical world, they are never truly alone. In the notes of their heart, they are at home.

Thank you so much, Keelin. I like how your poem explores home both as a place, and also as a state of mind or state of being. It sounds magical for the pianist to create a world using their music where they are never truly alone. Thank you for sending us such a lovely poem.

Okay, next we have Ashritha from the United States, with the poem “My Home – Wild Florida”. I’ll play the recording for you now.

Ashritha: There are so many things in this world & more, Let’s see what my home- Wild Florida has in store. Beautiful blue skies that are so bright, Nothing can beat that gorgeous sight. Crimson Hibiscus and Orange Blossom, Yellow wild flowers that are super awesome, Sandy White beaches and Shells galore, Mighty blue Waves that wash up the shore, Green Palm trees and Oak trees standing so tall, Purple Perennials and shrubs that are small, Pitch black night and white bright stars, Maybe if you look, you can even see Mars, Crystal clear springs that shoot out of the ground, Gaze upon them, it will seem so profound. Wild Florida is a place you can't beat. Once in a lifetime, you must make it your retreat.

Well, Ashritha, you have done a wonderful job of describing the natural beauty of Florida, from the water and beaches through to the flowers and trees. It sounds so pretty … and your poem makes me want to pack my bags and head to Florida today. Thank you so much for writing your poem, and for recording it so nicely.

Okay, Queenie … how’s it going with the chairs?

Queenie: The chairs are all done. Look! We’ve allowed plenty of space between them – which is handy for so many things … not least, if there’s a stampede of sheep, I think it increases our chances of regaining control of the whole room. Ummm …. Do you think sheep ever stampede? They just don’t look like stampeding animals to me. Wow! We really do explore deep and meaningful topics here at Kids’ Poetry Club. Perhaps you should play us some more poems while Chicken and I roll out the red carpet ready for Monday.

I think you’re right, Queenie. Well, our final poem for the episode comes from Veruschka in India with the poem “My Treasure Chest – Home”. Here, I’ll play the poem for you now …

Veruschka: Home is not a location, it is a profound feeling. A feeling, which in gruesome times, assists you in healing. A home is your treasure chest, it is full of precious possessions and memories. Each memory is at home, whether it was the time you were ecstatic or crying on your knees. The precious tears of past, have been mopped off my brain. The tender pain from the past has been dusted off with strain. The warm feeling has been blown away by a fan. The hugs and kisses have been burned in a pan. The reason for my never-ending laughter has seemed to be lost. But wait... thankfully my home has kept all these feelings and moment, saved and frozen permanently in my heart like frost. A home is like a time machine, just step into it, and a flash of memories strikes you like lightning, the times you used to chuckle and watch TV integrated as a family, or when your sweet grand-mom used to knit. Dorothy in ‘ The Wizard of Oz’ was right, there is no place like home, Because my home is what is keeping me stay as what I am, because it has all about me, stored in it like a treasure dome.

Thank you so much, Veruschka. You’re right – there is no place like home … and it sounds like your home does a wonderful job of keeping safe all of the memories of happy times, and storing them so that you can remember all of those memories whenever you want to. Thank you so much for sending us your lovely poem.

Okay then, Queenie … how are you going with the carpet?

Queenie: Well … we’re done. Look at how perfect the Club looks.

You’re right, Queenie – it is perfect! Now that’s all done, we can head off to get ice cream knowing that we’re all ready for Monday’s awards ceremony. I just can’t wait to arrive on Monday, announce the winners, and find out exactly what your choreographed sheep will be doing!

Queenie: Me too – I’m so excited! We couldn’t be any more ready … look …  the poems are all lined up waiting to be played … the chairs are all in rows … the red carpet is stretched out from the door up to the stage … the microphone is on the stage all ready for our announcements …  there’s a lump under the carpet … the sheep assembly space is roped off ready for when the sheep arrive ….  Hang on … there shouldn’t be a lump under the carpet…..Oh my gosh … where’s Chicken? Is that you, Chicken, under the carpet? Oh no! We rolled the red carpet right over the top of her. Quick, Little Dazzy Donuts, give me a hand… we’re coming, Chicken … we’re coming!!!!!!

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