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Kites in poetry
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Kites in poetry

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  • 1. *
  • 2. * I often sit and wish that I Could be a kite up in the sky, And ride upon the breeze and go Whichever way I chanced to blow. *
  • 3. * All the other Seasons added up together never can compare with kite flying weather! * Like a bird skimming across the blue sky my kite travels swiftly beautiful and high! * The cord often runs stinging through my hand, as my bird soars higher higher o’er the land * But all too soon twilight lowers on the town, and I must haul my bird down, down, down! *
  • 4. * One little kite in the sky so blue, Along came another then there were two, Two little kites flying high above me, Along came another , then there were three, Three little kites, just watch how they soar, Along came another, then there were four, Four little kites, so high and alive, Along came another, then there were five. Five little kites dancing ‘cross the sky, What a sight to see, way up so high! *
  • 5. * Come fly a kite And watch it sail Across the sky, Waving its tail! Kite, Kite Kite, kite, soaring high, Reaching, reaching to the sky First you’re high then you’re low, Swooping, swirling, round you go, Kite, kite, fine and free, Dancing, dancing, just for me. *
  • 6. * A kite, a sky, and a good firm breeze And acres of ground away from trees. And one hundred yards of clean, strong string– O boy, O boy! I call that Spring! *
  • 7. * Fling yourself upon the sky. Take the string you need. Ride high, high above the park. Tug and buck and lark with the wind. Touch a cloud, red kite. * Follow the wild geese in their flight.
  • 8. * In March, kites bite the wind and shake their paper scales. They strain against their fiber chains to free their dragon tails. *
  • 9. * Come back, come back, my runaway kite! Come back and play with me! I'm riding and gliding on whirl-away winds. I'm going somewhere. Can't you see? Where are you going my beautiful kite, flying so high in the sky? I'm going to visit the lost balloons that made little children cry. When I hold your string, oh my magical kite, why do I feel the wind in my hand? The wind is a taste of the sky, my young friend, that I gave to a child of the land. *
  • 10. * If I were a kite I'd kneel, stretch my skinny arms out wide, and wait for wind. My yellow shirt would fill up like a sail and flap, tugging my criss-crossed wooden bones and me towards seas of cloud. My rippling paper skin would rustle like applause as I inhaled, gulping one last gust to swoop me giddy-quick above the trees. My red rag tail would drift toward everything green to balance me so all day I could loop and climb loop and climb and soar into pure sky. *
  • 11. * On many spring days I wish that I Could be a kite flying in the sky. I would climb high toward the sun And chase the clouds. Oh, what fun! Whichever way the wind chanced to blow Is the way that I would go. I'd fly up, up, up. I'd fly down, down, down. Then I'd spin round and round and round. Finally I'd float softly to the ground. *
  • 12. * The March wind is calling, "Come fly your kite!" The wind is blowing With all its might. The kites are tossing In the sky. The wind is calling, "Come fly up high." *
  • 13. *