Imagining Things and other poems

By Kenneth Steven

This new collection of lyrical and witty poems shows some of the surprise and excitement to be found in the natural world – both rural and urban.

Even the familiar world of animals, seasons and seascapes is full of magic and mystery. The accessible poems are varied in style – from light-hearted to reflective. Children will enjoy reading these poems to themselves, and their teachers will appreciate the use of metaphor, rhythm and sound.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lion Children's Bks
• Release date: Jan 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9780745978642

Kenneth Steven

Kenneth Steven is a successful poet, novelist and children’s writer who has published some 25 books. His BBC Radio 4 documentary on the island of St Kilda won him a Sony Award. His previous novel, The Well of the North Wind (SPCK, 2016), was a spiritual tale set on 6th-century Iona, whilst Beneath the Ice (Saraband, 2016) tells the story of the Arctic Sami people. He grew up in Highland Perthshire in the heart of Scotland, and now lives in Argyll on the country’s west coast; it’s these landscapes that have inspired the lion’s share of both his poetry and prose.

Book preview

Wishing

I wish I’d been the very first person

On the very first day of the world

To see the sun rise for the very first time

On the very first morning there was.

I wish I’d watched the very first flower

Open out for the very first time.

I wish I’d heard the very first bird

Sing the very first song to say thank you.

Imagining things

Saturday morning and the skies are grey;

Danny sits in his bedroom six floors up,

His eyes downcast and his elbows on the sill,

Listening to the grey rain sing:

It’s singing from the chimneys

And it’s singing from the roofs

It’s singing from the steeples

And it’s singing from the trees.

He wanted to go and play football,

But Jamie’s got a cold and Alfie’s away,

Sam’s at his granny’s and Alan hasn’t time,

And Danny’s mum said: ‘It’s far too wet!’

It’s singing from the chimneys

And it’s singing from the roofs

It’s singing from the steeples

And it’s singing from the trees.

Danny imagines he’s a bird,

Flying up over the houses and away,

Looking down on all the little