People write poems to share what they see.

They want us to feel the joy or sadness that they feel.

The following three poets come from two countries,

the United States and the United Kingdom.

However, the language they  use is the same. English!

Michael Rosen is a British  children's book writer and poet

He enjoys writing poetry and  reading it aloud with his children. 

Michael Rosen and his daughter are eating at a table one day.

A raisin "escapes."

It seems to run away from its jar!

A Dangerous Raisin

(but my daughter Elsie is helpful) by Michael Rosen

A raisin has escaped from the raisin jar.

It's whooshing across the  table like a shooting star.

Now, it's leaping in the air like a kangaroo.

"Look out Dad, it's coming for YOU!"

Michael Rosen writes very creative poems.

His poem "Colour" encourages children to be creative, too.

Colour Dvivichaeskosen 

Take a brush: the sky is green

the grass is blue

you are purple

the house is silver the sun  is black

the river is gold

the world has changed.

Did you do that?

Aileen Fisher was an award-winning American children's poet,

book writer, and playwright.

She loved nature

and liked to go hiking and mountain climbing.

Do you like grasshoppers and beetles?

Aileen Fisher loved to write about insects.

But I Wonder ... by Aileen Fisher 

The crickets in the thickets,

and the katydids in trees,

and ants on plants,

and butterflies, and ladybugs and bees

don't smell with little noses

but with feelers, if you please.

They get along quite nicely,

but I wonder how they sneeze.

Robert Louis Stevenson was a famous  Scottish poet and book writer

who lived in the 1800s.

He wrote many books,

including the famous Treasure Island.

Do you notice how winter days are  short

and summer days are long?

Robert Louis Stevenson noticed it, too

and wrote about it in his poem

"Bed in Summer."

Bed in Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson 

In winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light,

In summer, quite the other way,

I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see the birds still hopping on the tree,  

Or hear the grown-up people's feet

still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,

When all the sky is clear and blue,

And I should like so much to play,

To have to go to bed by day?