Down behind the dustbin
I met a dog called Ted.
‘Leave me alone,’ he says,
‘I’m just going to bed.’
Down behind the dustbin
I met a dog called Roger.
‘Do you own this bin?’ I said.
‘No. I’m only a lodger.’
Down behind the dustbin
I met a dog called Sue.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said.
‘I’ve got nothing else to do.’

Michael Rosen

a dream flower

Peace and Love was the sign of the flower child

In the sixties, the young were passive not wild

They believed in peace, love, - giving, and sharing

Often judged, - not by their deeds, but for what they

Were wearing

You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower

You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower

You are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
i am glad i picked you

Recycling means to use things,
again and again and again.
And when we say recycling,
we don't mean your pen.
Recycling is used many places in,
and when you recycle,
just don't throw it in the bin.

Beautiful flower by Marcella Debrito

There was once a beautiful flower sitting in the meadow
while I got out of my bed to my window
the field was very beautiful and grassy
the beautiful flower was feeling sassy
as it stand tall above all of the flowers in the meadow
I wanted to get something to drink so I left the window
the beautiful flower try to look for me
the beautiful wanted to see
me at the window looking at the flowers beauty and grace
but there was a sad look on her face
when I came back with with a drink of water
the beautiful flower felt better
the beautiful flower posed and danced
but I did not glanced
then I looked down and saw another beautiful flower
the first flower was a sunflower
and the second flower was pink with a green in the middle
the second beautiful flower started to fiddle
the first beautiful flower got so mad she grabed her
and threw the second flower ferther
from the meadowly field of the uncool flowers
but the rain shower
it was coming in 5 minutes and the beautiful flower was sad
but I looked down with a smile and she was glad
then the rain started the flower went home to her friend
the end

Marcella Debrito

flowers by rabindranath tagore

When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down.
The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its
bagpipes among the bamboos.
Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows
where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee.
Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground.
They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to
come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand
in a corner.
When the rain come they have their holidays.
Branches clash together in the forest, and the leaves rustle
in the wild wind, the thunder-clouds clap their giant hands and the
flower children rush out in dresses of pink and yellow and white.
Do you know, mother, their home is in the sky, where the stars
are.
Haven't you see how eager they are to get there? Don't you
know why they are in such a hurry?
Of course, I can guess to whom they raise their arms; they
have their mother as I have my own.

Utsav beautiful flower's

there was once a beautiful flower sitting in the meadow
while I got out of my bed to my window
the field was very beautiful and grassy
the beautiful flower was feeling sassy