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Best Famous Primary School Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Primary School poems. This is a select list of the best famous Primary School poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Primary School poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of primary school poems.

Search and read the best famous Primary School poems, articles about Primary School poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Primary School poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Written by Paul Muldoon | Create an image from this poem

Anseo

 When the master was calling the roll
At the primary school in Collegelands,
You were meant to call back Anseo
And raise your hand 
As your name occurred.
Anseo, meaning here, here and now,
All present and correct,
Was the first word of Irish I spoke.
The last name on the ledger
Belonged to Joseph Mary Plunkett Ward
And was followed, as often as not,
By silence, knowing looks, 
A nod and a wink, the master's droll
'And where's our little Ward-of-court?'


I remember the first time he came back
The master had sent him out
Along the hedges
To weigh up for himself and cut
A stick with which he would be beaten.
After a while, nothing was spoken;
He would arrive as a matter of course
With an ash-plant, a salley-rod.
Or, finally, the hazel-wand
He had whittled down to a whip-lash,
Its twist of red and yellow lacquers
Sanded and polished,
And altogether so delicately wrought
That he had engraved his initials on it.


I last met Joseph Mary Plunkett Ward
In a pub just over the Irish border.
He was living in the open,
in a secret camp
On the other side of the mountain.
He was fighting for Ireland,
Making things happen.
And he told me, Joe Ward,
Of how he had risen through the ranks
To Quartermaster, Commandant:
How every morning at parade
His volunteers would call back Anseo
And raise their hands
As their names occurred.


Written by Barry Tebb | Create an image from this poem

The Innocent Eye

 I struggled through streets of

Bricked-up, boarded-up houses,

Mostly burned-out, keeping

To the middle of the road,

Watching the abandoned gardens

With here and there a house

Still lived in, curtained

Against the daylight and distantly

I saw the iron railings of the school

I’d taught in thirty years before.

The same brick buildings, hop scotch

Squares and rounders posts

And the sign, ‘Welcome to Wyther Park

Primary School’. The wooden prefabs

Where I taught poetry nine till four

Replaced by newer prefabs of I don’t

Know what, hidden in trees with

Thirty years more growth, one playground

Grassed over, with benches and tables

Like a pub garden, yet there was the same

Innocence still, my inner sense declared.

I sat on a stone seat by the bridge

Over the canal, watching the pylons

Stretching away to Kirkstall Forge,

By the steps to the railway where

Once the station stood that took us

Every year to Flamborough Head.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry