Children's poetry nourish the imagination of the little ones thanks to the musicality of their rhymes. It is a genre not so popular, but very suitable for children that allows them to play with words and brings them closer to a world with infinite possibilities.
Today is celebrated on Day of poetry and we bring you nine classic children's poems of great poets to awaken the sensitivity and taste for the letters in some tender and colorful verses.
How a child is drawn. Gloria Fuertes
To draw a child you have to do it with love.
Paint a lot of bangs,
I'm eating a wafer;
many freckles on the face that you notice is a pillo;Let's continue the drawing: round cheese face.
As he is a fashionable boy, he drinks syrup with soda.
He wears jeans with a beautiful hole;
American t-shirt and a corduroy beanie.The football player boots, because when he is kicking he is an artist.
He's always laughing because he's very intelligent.
Under the arm a story that is why he is so happy.
To draw a child you have to do it with love.
The rats. Lope de Vega
The mice got together
to get rid of the cat;
and after a long time
of disputes and opinions,
they said they would be right
to put a rattle on it,
that walking the cat with him,
get rid better they could.A barbican mouse came out,
colilargo, hociquirromo
and curling the thick loin,
He said to the Roman Senate,
After speaking worship for a while:
- Who of all has to be
who dares to put
That rattle to the cat?
The square has a tower. Antonio Machado
The square has a tower,
the tower has a balcony,
the balcony has a lady,
The lady a white flower.
a gentleman has passed
-Who knows why it happened! -
and has taken the square,
with its tower and its balcony,
with his balcony and his lady
Your lady and her white flower.
Manuelita the turtle. Maria Elena Walsh
Manuelita lived in Pehuajó
But one day it was marked.
No one knew why
to Paris she left
a little walking
and another little walk.Manuelita, Manuelita,
Manuelita where are you going with your malachite suit
and your step so bold.Manuelita once fell in love
of a turtle that happened.
He said: What can I do?
Old will not love me,
in Europe and with patience
They can beautify me.In the dry cleaning of Paris
They painted it with varnish.
They ironed it in French
The right and upside down.They put a wig
and booties on the feet. So many years it took to cross
the sea that crumpled there again
and that's why she came back old as she left
to look for her turtle who is waiting for her in Pehuajó
The fairies. Little child poem by Rubén Darío
The fairies, the beautiful fairies,
they exist, my sweet girl,
Joan of Arc saw them winged,
In the countryside.He saw them when he left the mirab,
It's been a long time, Muhammad.
More girl than a dove,
Shakespeare saw Queen Mab.Fairies said things
in the cradle
of the ancient princesses:
that if they were going to be happy
or beautiful as the moon;
or rare and ambiguous phrases.With its headbands and wings,
small as lilies,
there were fairies that were good
and there were fairies that were bad.And there was a humpback,
the one of odious prophecy:
the call
CaramelIf it reached the crib
of the soft little princesses,
none was released
Of your damn words.And that fairy was very ugly,
as they are
ugly all bad idea
And all bad heart.When you were born, beautiful,
you didn't have pagan fairies,
not even the horrible Carabosa
Not his funny sisters.Ni Mab, who dreams in dreams,
nor those that celebrate party
in the magic forest
from Brocelianda.And, do you know, my child,
why no fairies were there?
Why there
I was close to you
who your birth blessed:
Queen more than all of them:
the Queen of the Stars,
The sweet Virgin Mary.
May she bless you,
like your Mother and your friend;
with his divine consolations
do not fear hellish war;
what perfume your desires
his name that evil banishes,
well, she scented the skies
and earth.
Butterfly of the air. Federico García Lorca
Air butterfly,
you're beautiful,
air butterfly
Golden and green
Lamp light,
air butterfly,
Stay there, there, there!
You don't want to stop
You don't want to stop.Air butterfly
Golden and green
Lamp light,
air butterfly,
Stay there, there, there!
Stay here!
Butterfly, are you there?
Sonnet suddenly. Lope de Vega
A sonnet tells me to do Violante;
In my life I have seen myself in such a predicament,
fourteen verses say it is sonnet,
mocking teasing the three go ahead.I thought you would not find consonant
and I'm in the middle of another quartet;
but if I see myself in the first third,
There is nothing in quartets that scares me.For the first third I am entering,
and it still seems that I entered with right foot,
Well, with this verse I am giving it.I'm already in the second, and I still suspect
I'm the thirteen verses ending:
Tell if they are fourteen, and it is done.
The princess is sad. Ruben Dario
The princess is sad ... What will the princess have?
Sighs escape from his strawberry mouth,
Who has lost laughter, who has lost color.
The princess is pale in her golden chair,
the keypad of its sound code is mute;
and in a forgotten glass a flower faints.The garden populates the triumph of peacocks.
Parlanchina, the owner says banal things,
and, dressed in red, he flirts the jester.
The princess does not laugh, the princess does not feel;
the princess chases through the eastern sky
The vague dragonfly of a vague illusion.Do you think of the prince of Golconda or of China,
or where he has stopped his Argentine float
To see from his eyes the sweetness of light?
Or in the king of the fragrant Rose Islands,
or in which he is sovereign of the clear diamonds,
Or the proud owner of the pearls of Hormuz?Oh! The poor pink mouth princess
He wants to be a swallow, he wants to be a butterfly,
have light wings, fly under the sky,
go to the sun by the light scale of lightning,
greet the lilies with the verses of may,
or get lost in the wind over the thunder of the sea.He no longer wants the palace, nor the silver spinning wheel,
neither the haunted hawk nor the scarlet jester,
nor the unanimous swans in the lake of azur.
And the flowers are sad for the flower of the court;
the jasmine of the East, the nelumbos of the North,
from the West the dahlias and the roses of the South.Poor little blue-eyed princess!
It is imprisoned in its golds, it is imprisoned in its tules,
in the marble cage of the royal palace,
the magnificent palace guarded by the guards,
who guard a hundred blacks with their hundred halberds,
a whippet that does not sleep and a colossal dragon.Oh! Blessed is the hypsipyle which left the chrysalis.
(The princess is sad. The princess is pale)
Oh adored vision of gold, rose and ivory!
Who will fly to the land where a prince exists
(The princess is pale. The princess is sad)
Brighter than dawn, more beautiful than April!"Shut up, shut up, princess," says the fairy godmother!
on a horse with wings, here it is headed,
in the belt the sword and in the hand the azor,
the happy gentleman who loves you without seeing you,
and that comes from afar, winner of Death,
To light your lips with your love kiss!
April. Juan Ramón Jiménez
The chamariz in the poplar.
-And what else?The poplar in the blue sky.
- And what else?
The blue sky in the water.
- And what else?Water in the new leaf.
- And what else?
The new little leaf in the rose.
- And what else?
The rose in my heart.
- And what else?
My heart in yours!
In Babies and more | "Gloria Fuertes for children", a book of poetry that kids love
