My wife wrote and illustrated an abecedary for children - a poem for each letter. Here are a couple:

N

Naughty Nancy blew her nose
In Mr Clancy's finest rose
Said Clancy, "What a cheek you've got!"
Said Nancy, "What's a bit of snot?"

P

Prudence Price is oh, so nice.
"Be like her," is Mum's advice.

She never farts and never swears
She never burps and never stares

She never sniffs and never sneezes
She never pinches, never teases

She never steals and never lies
She never screams and never cries

She always does as she is told
She's never cheeky, never bold

She's never nasty, never mean
Her fingernails are always clean

"Just be like her," is Mum's advice.
Oh, how I hate that Prudence Price.

Poirot you have a real talent, the poem was beautiful. I'm sure your friend will treasure it's warmth always.

Who can forget Keats' To Autumn, a much studied but beautiful poem. I remember my English teacher making the class recite this one from memory. Can't do it now so I will just copy and paste.

To Autumn

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies."

I am a grandma now, but about 15 years ago, I was very concerned when my son came home from school disgusted because a poem he had written had been severely criticised becaue he mentioned 'beer'. Neither of us remember the poem he wrote, bur we do remember the poem that he chose to take back to school as an appropriate example of poetry. Mind you it took me half the evening to discourage him from purposely FAILING English after the experience, however this is what we found - author unknown:

ODE TO A GOLDFISH
O, my wet, wet, wet friend!

Son never looked back - I never heard from the teacher

Hi Everyone,

Well I'm back, and absolutely glad it's
all over.

Dear Antiseptic,

Thank You for your input into this thread.

Dear Severin,

Thanks for the "Hope" that you sent me.
You always know just the right thing
to say, especially when someone needs
hope badly. But then you've been there
yourself, so you understand only too well.

Dear Banjo,

Thank You for your kind words.

You are, and always have been a tender-hearted
man. A Gentleman.
Tenderness is a quality that I love
in a person, but it's such a rare quality
to find.

Dear Peter H.

I love Ogden Nash and his sense of humour.
Especially his reflections on ice-breaking:

"Candy is dandy
But liquor is quicker!"

Dear Mitchell,

Loved your serve of - "Frivolous Cake."

Dear David F.,

Thank You for your sobering poem.
Appearances can certainly be deceiving.
I would love to also read - one of your
wife's delightful ditties.
Perhaps next time?

Dear Squeers,

Thanks for the poems and the links.

Train journeys bring back so many memories.
Did you know that Larkin was a librarian?
My in-laws are from Yorkshire. And, your second
poem reminds me of one of Ogden Nash's:

"I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all."

Dear David F.,

Our posts have just crossed.

Thank You so much for your wife's
delightful ditties. I'll keep
them for my first grand-child!

Dear Pelly,

Thanks for Keats 'Autumn' poem.
I love his 'Ode on a Grecian Urn.'

"Thou still ravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
of Deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?..."

I simply love the old poeticisms.

Dear bridgejenny,

Your son certainly showed the teacher - and
what a pity she didn't rise to the occasion.
What a clever child was he! He said it all!
A most appropriate Ode To A Goldfish!
Loved it!

Thank you all for your kind words about my poem. I'll let you in on something, though. I never did send it to my friend, although it was definitely written for her.
It wasn't sent simply because I didn't have the confidence - I mean, I'm not a poet - and she was Oxford educated and knew all about literature, etc. I placed it in a drawer along with my other bits and pieces.
And then she died. I always regretted not sending it, but perhaps just posting it on the forum has in some way set it free.