Kite Poems

A Kite
author unknown

I often sit and wish that I
Could be a kite up in the sky,
And ride upon the wind and go
Whichever way I chanced to blow.

Kite Song
Elaine V. Emans

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!

Paper Dragons
Susan Alton Schmeltz

In March, kites bite the wind
and shake their paper scales.
They strain against their fiber chains
to free their dragon tails.

March Wind
Eleanor Dennis

We made a brand-new kite today,
And soon as we were through
We came out here to fly it,
And the wind just blew and blew.
And now the kite's a tiny speck;
We've used up all the string;
I'd like to go and get some more.
Anne's such a tiny thing
To hold the kite all by herself;
I wouldn't let her try,
For fear I might look back and see
Anne sailing through the sky.

Conversation with a Kite
Bobbi Katz

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.

Kite Days
Mark Sawyer

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!

Being a Kite
Jacqueline Sweeney

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
into pure sky.

Kite Flying

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.


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."