This was a project I did basically during the pandemic. I started writing a poem a day. Once ‘real life’ started again it got harder to write everyday, which is interesting.

Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Matilda and Meadow found a small nest

Matilda and Meadow found a small nest
it held 3 blue eggs, it was the best
they looked every day but they did not disturb
their tending of that nest was right and superb
one day the eggs hatched and they watched from afar
as the mom robin fed her small chicks like a star
then one day they went out to look once again
the empty nest now held memories of what once had been

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Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Matilda and Meadow have a picnic

Matilda and Meadow most like the sun
it finally came out so they planned for some fun
they told their father and Mustard the dog
we are having a picnic down by the three logs
we will make sandwiches that you love best
father, make sure you put Mustard in his finest wool vest
that afternoon, they all trotted down
to the stream, sat on logs, and none wore a frown

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Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Matilda and Meadow Bake Bread

Matilda and Meadow love to bake bread
their famous dark rye loaf — big as a head
they stir and they knead and they wait long enough
the toast is quite perfect, crunchy not tough
their father spreads butter and raspberry jam
the girls prefer cheese and thick cuts of ham
on cold winter days the oven helps heat
the family keeps warm and they laugh while they eat

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Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Matilda and Meadow and Mustard

Matilda and Meadow love dogs more than cats
their dog is named Mustard and they make him wear hats
he used to get dressed up like a small doll
he didn’t much like that, no, not at all
the three go for long walks through fields, along streams
the picture created comes right from a dream
exploring the country with joy and with wonder
running fast home at the first sound of thunder
these three are the very most best kind of friends
the adventures and laughing and fun stuff don’t end

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Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Matilda and Meadow cry

Matilda and Meadow cry when it rains
their father does not have to make them explain
the clouds streamed out buckets the day their mom died
the girls joined in and they cried and they cried
on days when its sunny the girls smile wide
their father expands as he fills up with pride
this family connects to the truth of the past
and stays in the present, knows weather won’t last

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Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair Matilda and Meadow, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Matilda and Meadow

Matilda and Meadow, sisters and friends
know how the other’s statements will end
live on a farm with their dad and some cows
know how to milk, harvest, and plow
Matilda has short hair, Meadow’s hair flows
know how to sew and mend all their clothes
a life filled with joy, love and some sorrow
can’t wait to explore more, but that comes tomorrow

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story poems, poems for kids, characters Kimberly LeClair story poems, poems for kids, characters Kimberly LeClair

Beatrice the Bat

Beatrice was a bat
The creepy, scary kind
But also she was nice
The nicest you could find

She always brought her brothers
One mosquito each (yuck!!)
When they needed learning
She was there to teach

All the bats liked Beatrice
She was well-known in the cave
If there was a bat feast (ugh, whatever that is!!)
A place for her was saved

A bat’s life can be trying
All that hanging upside down
But no bat would be crying
When Beatrice was around

She was a real good jokester
A wide grin on her face (do bats smile!?!?)
Organizing games and things
Or “let’s put on a race!

Bats have always scared me
I’m afraid I’ll get a bite
But if they are like Beatrice
Maybe bats might be all right (but I’m still not sure!!)


Happy Halloween my Friends! Thank you for being here!

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story poems, poems for kids, characters Kimberly LeClair story poems, poems for kids, characters Kimberly LeClair

little shrimpy

into the depth of the sea
the little shrimp did dive
his plan devised to test
the limits of being alive

he kept on going deeper
it was getting dark
kept his shrimp eyes open
alert for any sharks

deeper down he went
ahead it was pitch black
water now much colder
he thought of going back

suddenly out of shadow
appeared a glowing orb
a fish with giant teeth
more than our shrimp could absorb

then he saw a menace
that he had seen before
a giant great white shark
a guest never ever asked for

the shark was clearly hunting
scanning with wicked black eyes
our shrimp hid among some coral
happy for his small size

the shark passed out of sight
then shrimpy did decide
time to head back home
so up and up he began to ride

fun to have adventures
to see what you haven’t seen
but keep your wits about you
in the world does live some mean

when our shrimp got home
he told his friends the tale
as they were chitter chattering
up came a big blue whale

that whale swallowed them up
in one gigantic wave
as our shrimpy was going down
he was glad he had been brave

he had seen something different
he had tested himself for real
he felt proud of his adventure
and that is quite something to feel

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kids stories, story poems Kimberly LeClair kids stories, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Wizzelly and The Snow Day

It snowed hard all night long and when they all woke up,
the message from the school came through —
“Go ahead, have another cup.”

“We won’t be having school today. The roads are far too bad.”
While mom and dad, they groaned a bit,
Wizzelly was way beyond glad.

To say he was elated is still to understate.
He was the most excited kid!
To have no school — beyond great!

He knew what he would do for the entire day.
He would be outside with friends
and play and play and play.

He ate some oatmeal quick. His mom said “You have to.”
He dressed in record time
and out the door he flew.

Bundled as he was, he lumbered down the street.
The snow was all around, he thought,
“Man, the whole world looks so neat!”

He was reaching the corner when here came Walt and Will —
Wizzelly’s best good friends.
They set to planning out their thrills.

First, it was a snow fort built in Walter’s yard.
Then it was a snowman
imagined as castle guard.

As the boys were adding a stick that was a sword,
A new boy named Henry
came walking toward.

They all knew him already, he lived three streets away.
Henry asked if he could play with them
and the boys said “Sure, ok.”

It worked out in their favor. It was time for snowball fights.
The teams would be even now —
two on two was perfectly right.

Will and Walt joined together, leaving Henry and our Wizz.
They moved a small distance apart
and began the analysis.

How many balls to make? How big and how hard packed?
The planning of the thing
was as fun as the attack.

They finally started moving, Wizzelly watched Henry’s making.
Saw him shove a rock inside!
Wizzelly’s stomach started quaking.

He didn’t know what to do but those rocks seemed really bad.
Right away he heard the voices
of his mom and of his dad.

“If you are around something that seems not a-ok,
you should either leave the scene
or find some words to say.”

“What are you doing? You put a rock inside.”
Henry looked up at Wizz and flashed a grin,
“It makes them really glide!”

“But someone might get hurt!” “Don’t be such a baby.
I thought we wanted to win this fight!”
Wizz weakly answered “....maybe....”

“...but not by hurting someone. I’m out, I will not play.”
With that he spun around
and began to walk away.

Will and Walt they yelled, “Hey Wizz, where are you going?”
He didn’t quite know what to say...
he shrugged, “I don’t feel like throwing.”

But then he thought about it and joined them down the street.
“Henry’s putting rocks inside.
That’s wrong and is a cheat.”

Will and Walt shook their heads, agreeing with their friend.
“Guess the fight is over,
time for it to end.”

The three boys walked together leaving Henry all alone.
In one hand he held a snowball,
in the other a small stone.

You might think he would throw it at the boys who walked away.
But instead he dropped everything
and ran up to them to say,

“Hey guys, sorry, I was joking. I won’t use the rocks.
Let’s get back to playing,
building forts with big snow blocks!”

Will and Walt weren’t sure, they both looked down at their feet.
But Wizz said “Sure, just no more rocks.”
And they got to building forts — real neat!

As they were building, Wizzelly thought inside his mind,
“It was good to do the right thing,
and I’m glad I was still kind.”

They had an epic battle, but eventually moms called from the flanks.
As they started towards their homes,
Henry looked at Wizzelly and said “Thanks.”

Wizzelly had learned some lessons about how to be and how to play.
Now he knew he had the courage
to say what he needed to say.

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stories, story poems Kimberly LeClair stories, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Old MacCollum and The Gold

Old MacCollum was walking
down a garden path.
He spotted something shiny
under the bird bath.

He walked up real close,
inspected with his eyes —
a pile of gold nuggets!
Imagine his surprise!

He stood up quite tall
and looked all around.
Is there any person here
who sees what I have found?

His eyes did not spy
any people near.
The true nature of MacCollum
will now become clear.

He could take the nuggets,
a treasure — like a king,
have an artist fashion
Mrs. MacCollum a gold ring.

Oh, she would love that.
Would love to show her friends.
So, it is decided?
No, that is not how this ends.

MacCollum instead turned
and left the gold behind.
Now on a mission,
the gold’s owner he must find.

That is Old MacCollum —
a man that you can trust.
Aware of his greedy side
but do the right thing, he must.

I’m sure you will wonder
what happened next.
MacCollum found the gold’s owner.
How the gold got there is complex.

Thrilled to have found it,
the owner felt quite free.
He said to MacCollum,
What can I give to thee?

My wife would love a ring
to show all her friends.
She got a gorgeous ring
and now our story ends.

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poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Serious Sarah

Serious Sarah wakes up
opens her green eyes
she thinks of all she has to do
this is no surprise

Sarah likes to be
effective and precise
on the ball, never late
her planner is quite nice

you might think that Sarah
would be a little dull
not at all, her life is full
there never is a lull

she is always doing
just the most right thing
if she has a moment
her phone will likely ding

Sarah is serious
about doing all she can
you must agree to do that
you need a right good plan

if you meet this Sarah
you will find a smile on her face
this is what can happen
when you find your right good place

yes Sarah, she is serious
but never is she sad
she fills her day with doing
and doing makes her glad

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poetry, story poems, Peter the Bee Kimberly LeClair poetry, story poems, Peter the Bee Kimberly LeClair

Let’s Meet Peter

it is time to meet a new small friend
let us call him Peter
he needs something fun to do
to rhyme with his name? ... eater?

Peter is a bee
he lives in that there hive
he loves to buzz around the yard
it makes him feel alive

his favorite kind of flower
the one he eats the most
is lovely luscious lavender
his most beloved host

we will follow Peter
as time goes along
it will be good to know him
to learn his Peter Bee Song

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poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair

bare

shelby the squirrel scampered
all over the snow
her nut stores were down to zero
she had no place to go

the winter had been a long one
her tail was mighty thin
to find one nut or berry now
quite the needed win

she spied the squirrel merelda
chewing a very large nut
“can i have a small bit?”
out her front foot she did jut

merelda and shelby were friends
had been since their birth
but merelda was also hungry
winter thinning her girth

in this moment of question
to share or not to share
merelda made the kind choice
showed she really cared

these squirrel friends shine a light
bare an important truth of life
asking a friend for help
can put an end to deepening strife

a friend you can rely on
to turn to when in need
who moves beyond the selfish
is not bound up with greed

shelby and merelda are fine now
the snow melts more each day
the time of growth is upon them
with nature this is the way

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story poems Kimberly LeClair story poems Kimberly LeClair

Yanick’s Best Hat, Part 2

The snow got ever deeper
Up to his ankles, his knees, his waist
The wind finally gave in
Maybe tired of being chased

The best hat dropped
A few short yards ahead
Yanick stretched all of himself toward it
reaching madly he grabbed a thread

He drew his best hat to him
Dusted it off a bit
Pulled it tightly onto his head
Such a warm and cozy fit

The storm’s rage had ended
Yanick noticed as he turned around
He looked into the distance
No landmarks to be found

He had traveled many miles
Much farther than he thought
All ahead was blackness
His stomach began tying a knot

Just then a small miracle happened
The moon waltzed out into the sky
All of the world lit up
Yanick breathed out a hugely deep sigh

A special truth about snow
It tracks wherever you go
When moonlight creates its glow
The way home is something you know

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story poems Kimberly LeClair story poems Kimberly LeClair

Yanick’s Best Hat, Part 1

Yanick grabbed his best shovel
He headed out in the storm
wanted to clear a wide path
All bundled up to keep warm

The snow was falling heavy
Blowing this way and that
A strong solid gust came up
And tore off Yanick’s best hat

It went flying into the darkness
Yanick didn’t hesitate one bit
He went running after that hat with abandon
It was the first one he had found that would fit

He ran without even thinking
Out into the deep snow-filled fields
His hat always floating before him
the wind unwilling to yield

What happened next to dear Yanick?
As he ran further out in the snow
Just for some fun on a Tuesday
You will have to read tomorrow to know 😊

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story poems Kimberly LeClair story poems Kimberly LeClair

thimble

a fairy named the girl thimble
her mother had died in the birth
the name made the girl quite nimble
she was solid without much girth
destined to roam alone on earth
she lived in the bushes and trees
solitude always mixed with mirth
free happy and wild was she

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story poems, poetry, stories Kimberly LeClair story poems, poetry, stories Kimberly LeClair

Tadpole’s Tale

everyone called him Tadpole
not his actual real name
it stuck a long time ago
came from his favorite game

he always loved the river
would go there everyday
started catching tadpoles
before he had much to say

he would always put them back
right where they had come from
it was something in his spirit
to like this kind of humdrum

he would often simply sit there
with his feet stuck in the water
the shady trees kept him cool
as the days grew hotter

the river was his place
everyone could see
by this stretch of water
is where Tadpole loved to be

time passed on along
as it always does
the folks around grew older
we know where Tadpole was

in the spring the rains would come
the river would grow wild
it was a day like this
when Tadpole saw the child

across the raging river
from Tadpole’s special place
a vital little boy
a big smile on his face

he was running with a puppy
no doubt a new playmate
between the two and the river
there was no wall or gate

Tadpole sat and watched
it was a gorgeous thing to see
two souls open and joyous
the air filled up with glee

the puppy running circles
the little boy giving chase
they moved onto the riverbank
a sloping, slippery place

it happened in an instant
the puppy tumbled first
the boy followed right after
then Tadpole burst

up from his resting place
he dove into the rampage
the future holds its breath
for all unknown at this stage

the puppy flailed on the surface
Tadpole clutched him in real quick
but he couldn’t see the boy
the mud and sticks too thick

he looped his arm on a giant branch
lodged into the bank
he saw the boy’s leg float by
grabbed it just before it sank

hard to know how he did it
but he did it nonetheless
he heaved the puppy and the boy
up to solid ground — alive but a real mess

just as it seemed
the river would not win
the branch Tadpole clung to
snapped and floated in

straight to the rapids
rocks and wild water
the only creatures built for this
fish or maybe otter

Tadpole went under
he did not reappear
his fate was determined
this moment, day and year

the boy and pup got better
time passed, as it does with no fail
one final little note
here in Tadpole’s Tale

if you go down by the river
at a certain time of night
just before the sun is gone
when the light is just right

you can see Tadpole sit there
in his special perfect place
his feet stuck in the water
a smile on his face

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poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair

Myrtle and Gail

There was once a snail named Myrtle
who looked very much like a turtle.
His shell was gigantic and his head was quite small
but look closely, no legs — you see, he is a snail after all.

Myrtle was teased for the size of his shell.
The little snail bullies treated him not very well.
Myrtle would ooze home from school with tears in his eyes,
his tentacles drooping, his slime supersized.

Myrtle’s mom was named Nancy
she kept their snail home quite fancy.
She tried to console Myrtle with bits of cucumber
but he ignored the treats and instead he did lumber

over then under a nearby big boulder.
Here he could stand shoulder-to-shoulder
with his friend Gail.
Gail was a turtle who looked like a snail.

Gail, yes, he had a very small shell
and his head and neck, yes, they did swell.
He was teased by the other turtles at school.
They called him names, like fool and uncool.

These two met on a Saturday,
both out wandering, with no one to play.
Each had crawled under this boulder
as it was getting dark and a little colder.

They were both shy, not easy to meet.
Myrtle went first and he said this to greet,
“Hi, I’m Myrtle. What is your name?”
and Gail replied back with much of the same.

They quickly bonded although neither did speak
of the way they were different or how they felt like a freak.
Instead they both delighted in having a true friend,
someone to hang with, someone on which to depend.

It makes all the difference to have someone who cares,
it lightens your burdens when another is there.
For Gail that is Myrtle, and for Myrtle that’s Gail.
They are best friends, this turtle and snail.

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poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair poetry, story poems Kimberly LeClair

The Legend of Candy Cane

There once was an elf named Candy Cane
He was an elf most wise
The one all elves would go to
The one who would advise

Candy Cane himself
Was a funny looking sprite
He had hair of bright bright red
And then a beard of white

That is how those striped delights
Came to have their name
They are named after that wise elf
It was his claim to fame

That fact has been lost
People don’t remember
The elf that sweet is named after
Those that come out in December

In the olden times
Folks used to say
That to wish upon a Candy Cane
Was a way to pray

To wish upon a Candy Cane
Was a way to ask
That venerable old funny elf
To help you with a task

So if you have something
You hold deep in your heart
Maybe wish upon a Candy Cane
And let that wise elf do his part


Giant buckets of thanks to Mo for her inspiration. It is possible that Candy Cane the Elf may make several appearances this season! We shall see….

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