Methodical piggy bank. Poems about plants, material on the surrounding world (middle, senior, preparatory group) on the topic

Thistle

Along the beaten path
He stands openly.
A strong stem and thorns -
This is his defense. If the young man is captured,
Will fight to the end!

E. Serova

Native land

wide,
free-spirited
Birthplaces...
White-trunked birch.
My favorite,
Stands like a white candle,
She looks around:
The ripe rye nods to her,
The meadow bows to her. It’s so nice all around,
sunny,
Everywhere you look
Quietly above the lake
The reeds sway. They float along the narrow channel
Ducklings in succession... Love Russian nature,
God bless you, my reader!

E. Serova

Burdock

Scary looking -
Nechesan,
unwashed
Catches passersby.
He tries to stab, but it’s easy to deal with such an insolent guy:
Unhook it - and that's the end of it!

E. Serova

Why are you, rye, golden?

The breeze asked as it flew by:
- Why are you, rye, golden?
And in response, the spikelets rustle:
- Golden hands are growing!

E. Serova

My cactus

Pink sun in winter
Black kitten in the snow
The poor trees get:
The wind whips them as they run.
And, hidden in the greenhouse,
My green cactus has grown up,
And if I touch it, it stings more sharply,
Than the winter wind and frost.

Jasmine mines

In a sad hour.
and carefree hour
Our mines are different
And white jasmines
They also make mines. Zorka turns red -
The bush is having fun.
The sun is rising -
The bush smiles. Above the jasmine swarm
Everything buzzes and swirls.
This is, in my opinion,
Jasmine himself laughs! The conspiratorial cloud
The wind blows through the garden,
Here jasmine will wince,
Apparently out of frustration. The rain will come for a long time -
The jasmine bush will turn sour,
Nothing makes me happy
Tears just keep falling! The winds and clouds will disappear,
It will be a starry evening.
Here jasmine is thoughtful.
Quiet and serious. And jasmine is magical -
That jasmine when we sleep.

E. Serova

Little Doctor

Who hurt their heels?
Come on over, guys!
The plantain will help out,
Plantain will cure:
He has a leaf -
Doctor with nails!

E. Serova

We decided to play hide and seek
In the clearing, as always.
Quickly, without looking back,
Run away in all directions! Valya is already driving
He began to count to one hundred.
I see: they were busy
All good places. Anya hid behind an oak tree,
Olya disappeared under a bush.
And Vanya managed to ditch
Quickly grab it while crawling. Where should I go now?
I can barely hide!
I began to quickly look around...
Here! Tall grass! If I sit in it,
Valya definitely won’t find it.
If only it's right next to you
He won’t pass in front of her! I dashingly jumped into the thickets,
I'm happy with the chosen place.
And from there with a wild cry
He immediately jumped back. Valya was very puzzled:
Without hiding, I roar.
I chose very poorly
I am the insidious grass. I remember it vividly,
Learned in advance:
I know for sure that nettle
It doesn't work as a cover!

A. Monvizh-Montvid

Fireweed bloomed in the meadow.
Here is a family of heroes! Strong, stately and ruddy,
The giant brothers stood up.
Nice outfit chosen -
The jackets are on fire!

E. Serova

Ivan-da-Marya

They are friends - gentle with harsh,
They are friends - yellow and lilac,
Through the meadows, through the clearings
Marya and Ivan are friends. There is love without deception:
Without a friend, without Ivan,
Marya will not live either,
And it will wither
will wither.

E. Serova

Umbrella (hogweed)

It's raining, it's drizzling,
The whole clearing is wet.
-Where should I hide? -
sad
White butterfly. -Umbrella! You won't find anything better!
I'll hide under an umbrella.
Evil wind, gloomy rain,
Come on, come on, touch it!

E. Serova

Green country

I love to wander
Along the Green Country.
Make friends here
I really like it. Lots of surprises
The silent people
And for what he will give,
Doesn't take anything. In that country there is grace,
Amazing light.
Let us figure it out:
What's in it main secret? Stop by with me
To this glorious life
And with the Green Country
Be friends forever.

E. Serova

St. John's wort

St. John's wort does not kill animals,
He's not scary at all.
He's more of a beast lover,
Decorated with stars. The elk will stand in amazement,
The hares will somersault:
"Finally succeeded
Touch the stars!” Take a walk on a summer day, -
With a clear, gentle fire
They shine for you and me
St. John's wort stars.

E. Serova

On the lawn near the house
The pink doze is dozing, bent over, disheveled
Flushed from sleep...
If you come across a nap,
This means spring is over.

E. Serova

The Good Giant

I'm walking on the lawn -
A giant in shorts and a T-shirt,
I can clearly see from above
The whole Green country. Here is a snail - a good gnome
He carries a house on himself,
Here is an apartment for a beetle -
Hole of an old hemp. Here stands a high-rise building -
The ants are busy in it,
Here is a chamomile flower -
Bugs live in it. This small country
Everything around is populated! If I, a giant,
I want it
Like a dashing hurricane
I'll fly it! I can do everything at home
Break it!
All residents in the meadow
Trample! If I want…
Only I don’t want to!
I am a good giant!

E. Serova

Herbarium

I'm walking in the park with my mom
And we collect the herbarium:
Here's a birch leaf
Here's a fancy flower.

Bright red maple leaf,
The needles of the Christmas tree are green.
They walked around the huge oak tree,
Acorns were found nearby.

Let's sing in between
And we feed the squirrels.
Here's a crow on a bitch
Nimble woodpecker above.

Here is a scarlet rowan bush, -
And we take it to the herbarium.
It's time for us to go home
We had a blast!

A. Paroshin

Where are the daisies?

Are you familiar with the dodder,
With this great sissy?
She says to the chamomile:
- It’s hard for me to stand, poor thing! Slowly it will get closer,
Around the chamomile will grow:
- I'm a weak child,
Support me, neighbor! Of course, it’s a shame not to help.
Yes, you can’t see the daisies!
In the clearing, different colors,
Dodders are blooming.

E. Serova

Elderberry complains

The elderberry said to the aspen tree:
- Why am I worse than my neighbor Rowan?
They say that we are very similar
I am hung with grapes too!
They say I'm very beautiful
But my fate is unhappy. All the birds flock to her, the mountain ash,
And they sing
and whistle
and eat
Black crows come from me too
They scatter in different directions. Here the aspen laughed in response:
- You told everything in a businesslike manner,
Yes, I forgot about a little bit
I forgot that you are poisonous!

E. Serova

Poems about plants reveal the value of rich living vegetation, describing in bright colors all the versatility and beauty of the harmless component of nature.

Walk through meadows and forests

A lush cover of forbs and useful crops covers large areas of our country. The poems describe a huge number of species of living plants. Each of them makes its own special contribution to the appearance of fields and meadows. A bunch of flowering varieties decorate spaces with a rainbow combination. Walking through the velvety multi-colored blanket of fields, you can meet such representatives as the familiar chamomile, dodder curling like threads, bluish clover and yellow flowers sweet clover Each plant is described in a special way in rhyming lines. And how much joy it brings to meet forest and meadow berries! And it is no longer possible to call this immense wealth of species an ordinary green meadow, because there is exactly as much greenery here as there are other flowers. Moreover, not only appearance pleases the poet, the reader and simply a connoisseur of nature. Every plant has its own characteristic smell, and edible species have their own specific tastes. The pleasant aroma that one encounters in the forest and meadows intoxicates any traveler, and sweet berries and mushrooms brought home by travelers help to feel the full taste of nature.

Herbaceous cover is only a small part of what poems about plants describe. Many trees and shrubs fill the rich forest kingdoms. Mixed, coniferous and deciduous forests are famous for their rich diversity of tree species. Every tree or shrub is different different properties. The height of the forest layer is not uniform. It ranges from low to huge representatives of the forest priest. Leaves and seeds different plants are not the same, therefore the quatrains reveal the image of each tree, describing its individuality in its own way.

Useful plants

In addition to beauty, plants provide people with irreplaceable benefits. Poems about plants will tell you how vital it is to appreciate what nature gives and to maintain its wealth in unshakable balance. The lines are instructive. At a time when people, in search of their own benefit, are so irresponsible towards the world around them, these verses will help raise a conscientious generation that will treat natural gifts with care. There are many rare and endangered species. They must also be preserved. Destroying essential elements natural unity, man causes irreparable damage to it. The lines will teach kids to use rationally Natural resources from an early age.

Any plant releases into the air a large number of oxygen we breathe and absorb harmful gases. Trees are used as building material, fuel and for decorative arts. Many herbs and tree species are universal healers and are used in everyday life and medicine. The poems will tell an interesting story about how plantain can heal a cut, and Birch juice will increase immunity.

Poems about plants can be classified as educational children's works. They will complement the child's world of biological knowledge and make a rich contribution to his moral potential.

Vegetable world

Why did I collect the herbarium?

Why did I collect the herbarium?
Lungwort with Ivan da Marya,
Sad lily of the valley with cheerful porridge
And a violet with a tall daisy,
Coltsfoot with thistle
And snowdrop with mouse peas
At least one district flourished,
Yes, they didn’t know about each other at all.
The autumn rain poured outside the windows.
I took out the dry plants
Placed it on the sheets in a semicircle
And he introduced the flowers to each other.
(V. Berestov)

Wonderful doctor

Grows in the field along the paths
Wonderful doctor - plantain.
I'll tell you a secret now -
He's on duty here for a reason.
If you cut your finger, it will help.
A scratch will heal too.
If you hurt your knee, no problem!
The green doctor is always here.
(N. Tomilina.)

Kaluzhnitsy

The puddles overflowed in the spring,
Marigolds surrounded them,
They look into the water with fascination,
Everyone is admiring the updates!

The moths are delighted, circling:
“Oh, marigolds, marigolds!”

Having dressed the marigold girls in dresses,
IN blue sky the sun is rolling.
(N. Kapustyuk)

(The Russian name of the genus, perhaps due to the plant's love of water, is derived from the Old Russian kaluzh, meaning "swamp" or simply "puddle". Others popular names plants: paddling pool, water snake.)

Snowdrop

Just yesterday there was a snowstorm,
There is still snow in the lowlands,
And the snowdrop is creeping at my feet,
He hurries towards the sun.

Invincible plant
The greenery was preserved all winter
And the first to greet spring
Living sun and warmth.

Look how joyful and fun it is
Spring is coming,
What love for life shines
Snowdrop radiant light.

(N. Zabila, trans. V. Danko)

Cornflower

– Cornflower, cornflower,
Tell me frankly
Why do you love so much
Grow among the rye?
If you were in the meadow
Not the last flower
And in the field they think
You're a weed.

– Among bright colors
I'll fade in the meadow.
Only in the rye am I like this
I can be beautiful.
Here I am, really
As a guest
Unwanted,
But still
On fine days by me
Loves rye.
(G. Ladonshchikov)

Aster

Autumn over the shady park... Lies down
Gold maples on the waters of the pond.
The leaves are spinning... The birds have fallen silent...
Looking into the cold sky
Aster, radiant aster - star.

Aster with its straight petals
Since ancient times it has been called a “star”.
That's what you would call it yourself.
The petals in it scattered like rays
From the core it's completely golden.

Dusk is approaching. Thin and sharp
The light sways in the sky of the constellations.
An aster in a flowerbed, fragrant and colorful,
Watches how distant sisters shine,
And sends greetings to them from the earth.
(V. Rozhdestvensky)

Cuckoo's tears

Cuckoo's tears
They grow like birds,
They live like birds
In the meadow.

Tanya and I found out
What's in our forest
Cuckoos
Crying flowers.

There's grass underneath us
Like a green patch.
We decided to cry
Tanya and I:

What if our tears
They will sprout in the grass
And they will too
Flowers?..

And they will bloom
Near every birch tree
Natasha's tears
And Tanya's tears.

(V. Linkova)

Beet

Svekla is an experienced artist,
She has no equal in the field.
Beets can color everything
In your favorite red color.
(N. Tomilina.)

Beet

The beets got wet in the rain,
But don’t be afraid, it didn’t get wet:
Ours has become unlaughable
Chubby cheeks and blush.

(V. Rykov)

Onion

Proudly holding a bunch of arrows
Brave little onion.
But his time will come,
He will make us cry.

(V. Rykov)

Garlic

You know for sure
Burning taste of garlic.
Teeth stay together
Like fingers on a hand.

(V. Rykov)

Dill umbrellas

In a dill bed in a row
Someone's umbrellas are standing.
Strange, curly,
But completely full of holes.
No one will be protected
These curls in the rain and hail.
(N. Tomilina)

Cucumber

My cucumber is the best.
I'm not afraid of its thorns.
I'll stroke the cucumber
And the end of all the thorns.

(V. Rykov)

Zucchini

Substitute zucchini
White barrels to the sun.
They set it up for two weeks
But they didn't tan at all.
(N. Tomilina)

turnip

The turnip couldn't bury itself
Very deep into the ground
But she grabbed tightly -
It won't be easy to take it out!
(N. Tomilina)

Turnip

Like a grandfather in an old fairy tale,
Let's take the turnip out into the light.
She will smile at us,
Like a full moon.

(V. Rykov)

Cauliflower

Regular colored cauliflower –

That's not why they call her colored.

Its head consists of flowers,

Bring a bouquet – and dinner is ready!

(N. Tomilina)

In the garden

According to mysterious laws,
Still unclear
The cucumber grows GREEN,
Nearby is a RED tomato,
Eggplant BLUE
Next to the YELLOW melon,
And the earth is black and black,
And the land is the same for everyone.
(O. Bundur)

Strawberry

Strawberry
Near the stump
She told everyone:
- I am not here! –
Looked back
And than
Hidden under a leaf.
The sun's ray found her,
Screamed:
- Not good!
I deceived you!
Ah ah ah!
Strawberry,
Get out! –
The berry turned red
And she said:
- Sneaky...
(L. Fadeeva)

Rye

You won't find it in a summer field
Rye without prickly whiskers.
Every mustache is a sentinel,
He shouldn't sleep
To give grain to the birds
Do not take in spikelets.
(G. Lyushnin)

Spikelets with mustache

See for yourself:
Spikelets with mustaches!
Just like a cat -
A little prickly!

In every spikelet
Grains - lumps,
Grains with flour
White and gold.

They will be collected soon
There will be grains of the mountain
High to the sky -
These are mountains of bread!

There are tons of stores -
Rolls and loaves,
Bagels, biscuits –
The shelves are all packed.

And for a treat -
Gingerbread cookies,
Delicious gingerbreads -
Eat up, kids!

Eat, die,
Don't throw it on the floor -
Spikelets with mustache
They won't come to you on their own!

(N. Rodivilina)

Morel fungus

Morel, morel,
Old man from birth.
Grew up on the edge
Hat on top of head
The wind blew... And the morel
He fell on his side.
All covered in wrinkles -
Old man!
(A. Prokofiev)

funny mushroom

Chanterelle mushroom
On a clear day
Doesn't want to leave
Into the shade.

In the puddle-mirror
Looks
With surprise
Speaks:

- What a miracle!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Mushroom in a puddle
So funny!

Instead of a hat
At the mushroom
Gramophone
Pipe.

Under the bush
The hedgehog giggled:
- What, yourself?
You will not know?
(A. Bersenev)

Poems about summer for preschoolers 5-7 years old

A selection of poems about meadow plants for children of senior preschool age.

Here's the cornflower, what with the chamomile
Children sometimes get confused.
He's tall and handsome
With a yellow-white head.
M. Avdeeva.

Young dandelion
Was like the golden sun
Wasn't afraid of anyone
Even the wind itself!
Dandelion golden
He grew old and gray-haired.
And as soon as I sat down,
He flew away with the wind.

Bluebells are turning blue in the meadow.
Next to the bell, with the chamomile
Clover blooms cheerfully
And his “bumblebee porridge”
They call our people.
V. Rozhdestvensky.

blue bell
Bowed to you and me.
Bells - flowers
Very polite...
And you?
E. Serova.

On the sunny edge
The violet has blossomed
Lilac ears
She raised it quietly.
She's buried in the grass
Doesn't like to go forward
But someone should bow to her
And he will take it carefully.
E. Serova.

"Bells"
My bells
Steppe flowers.
Why are you looking at me?
Dark blue?
And what are you calling about?
On a merry day in May,
Among the uncut grass
Shaking your head?

"Dandelion"
Wears a dandelion
Yellow sundress
When he grows up, he will dress up
In a little white dress:
Light, airy,
Obedient to the wind.
E. Serova.

"Forget-me-not"
I looked at the forget-me-not
I only looked for a minute.
But now I'm long, long
I won't forget the forget-me-not.

"Humble Flower"
Even though I'm not as tall as a fingernail,
They gave me the name Marigold.
Not a champion in beauty,
I am much more modest than the peony.

"Dandelion"
The sun dropped
Golden ray
The dandelion has grown -
First, young.
He has a wonderful
Golden color,
He's a big sun
Small portrait.

"Flower"
Nature
Carefully swaddled,
Wrapped
In a wide sheet
A flower grows
In the wilderness untouched,
Cool,
fragile
And fragrant.
S. Marshak.

"Plantain".
There are many colors
Beautiful, careful,
But I enjoy it the most
Ordinary plantain.
Perhaps he
And it's harder to grow
And yet he is with people
On the way!
S. Baruzdin.

"Thistle".
In a clearing near the path
He stands open
A strong stem and thorns -
This is his defense.
If they catch the young man,
Will fight to the end!
E. Serova.

We want the birds to sing
So that there is noise around the forest,
So that the skies are blue,
So that the river turns silver,
For the butterfly to frolic
And there was dew on the berries!
We want the sun to warm
And the birch tree turned green,
And under the tree lived a funny prickly hedgehog,
So that the squirrel jumps, so that the rainbow sparkles,
So that it rains cheerfully in the summer.
E. Karganova.

"Don't trample the grass"
They trampled me, little grass,
They trampled me, green,
Yes, all the kids, yes all the little ones,
Walking in the green garden,
Running, playing.

"Flowers"
If I pick a flower,
If you pick a flower...
If everything: both I and YOU -
If WE pick flowers,
They will be empty
And trees and bushes...
And there will be no beauty.

Great ones about poetry:

Poetry is like painting: some works will captivate you more if you look at them closely, and others if you move further away.

Small cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creaking of unoiled wheels.

The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is what has gone wrong.

Marina Tsvetaeva

Of all the arts, poetry is the most susceptible to the temptation to replace its own peculiar beauty with stolen splendors.

Humboldt V.

Poems are successful if they are created with spiritual clarity.

The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is usually believed.

If only you knew from what rubbish poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion on a fence, like burdocks and quinoa.

A. A. Akhmatova

Poetry is not only in verses: it is poured out everywhere, it is all around us. Look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life emanate from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.

I. S. Turgenev

For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.

G. Lichtenberg

A beautiful verse is like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. The poet makes our thoughts sing within us, not our own. By telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He's a magician. By understanding him, we become poets like him.

Where graceful poetry flows, there is no room for vanity.

Murasaki Shikibu

I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in the Russian language. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. It is through feeling that art certainly emerges. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.

Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin

-...Are your poems good, tell me yourself?
- Monstrous! – Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! – the newcomer asked pleadingly.
- I promise and swear! - Ivan said solemnly...

Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"

We all write poetry; poets differ from others only in that they write in their words.

John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"

Every poem is a veil stretched over the edges of a few words. These words shine like stars, and because of them the poem exists.

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

Ancient poets, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. This is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times there is certainly hidden an entire Universe, filled with miracles - often dangerous for those who carelessly awaken the dozing lines.

Max Fry. "Chatty Dead"

I gave one of my clumsy hippopotamuses this heavenly tail:...

Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea, and not a plague!

Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky

Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore, drive away the critics. They are just pathetic sippers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let poetry seem to him like an absurd moo, a chaotic pile-up of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from a boring mind, a glorious song sounding on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.

Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"

Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing more than pure poetry that has rejected the word.