This year, 2016, is the 75th Anniversary of Winnie the Pooh poems and tales by A. A. Milne.
Winnie the Pooh Day is always on January 18th. Why do you ask? Because January 18th, 1882, is the day AA Milne was born. AA is for Alan Alexander. AA Milne is known for creating the lovable character, Winnie the Pooh, in 1926 and his just as lovable friends.
Winnie the Pooh Poems
Can you name the characters that are as much a part of the Winnie the Pooh poems as Winnie himself? They are: Christopher Robin, Piglet, Eeyore, Tigger, Kanga, Roo, Rabbit, and Owl.
As was the original teddy bear created out of a 1902 event in the United States when Teddy Roosevelt refused to shoot a defenseless bear, Winnie the Pooh was created in England after AA Milne’s young son, Christopher, was given a teddy bear in 1926. Christopher Robin, a young boy in the Winnie the Pooh stories, was named after the young Christopher. Â Winnie the Pooh’s friends were also based on his son’s toys.
Celebrate Winnie the Pooh Day with Poems and more!
Many local libraries have Winnie the Pooh themed activities planned for children. Reading Winnie the Pooh poems or watching Disney animated Winnie the Pooh movies are fun ways to celebrate the birthday of author AA Milne at home, too.
And, don’t forget the honey snacks…
Winnie the Pooh Poems by A. A. Milne
from The Complete Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh
Winnie the Pooh Poems #1
They bundled him
They gave him what goes
With a cold in the nose,
And some more for a cold
in the head.
Could turn into measles,
Winnie the Pooh Poems #2
If I were a bear,
And a big bear too,
I shouldnâ€™t much care
If it froze or snew;
I shouldnâ€™t much mind
If it snowed or frizâ€”
Iâ€™d be all fur-lined
With a coat like his!
For Iâ€™d have fur boots and a brown fur wrap,
And brown fur knickers and a big fur cap.
Iâ€™d have a fur muffle-ruff to cover my jaws,
And brown fur mittens on my big brown paws.
With a big brown furry-down up to my head,
Iâ€™d sleep all the winter in a big fur bed.
Winnie the Pooh Poems #3
A bear, however hard he tries,
Grows tubby without exercise.
Our Teddy Bear is short and fat
Which is not to be wondered at;
He gets what exercise he can
By falling off the ottoman,
But generally seems to lack
The energy to clamber back.
Now tubbiness is just the thing
Which gets a fellow wondering;
And Teddy worried lots about
The fact that he was rather stout.
He thought: â€œIf only I were thin!
But how does anyone begin?â€
He thought: â€œIt really isnâ€™t fair
To grudge me exercise and air.â€
For many weeks he pressed in vain
His nose against the window-pane,
And envied those who walked about
Reducing their unwanted stout.
None of the people he could see
â€œIs quiteâ€ (he said) â€œas fat as me!â€
Then, with a still more moving sigh,
â€œI meanâ€ (he said) â€œas fat as I!â€
Now Teddy, as was only right,
Slept in the ottoman at night,
And with him crowded in as well
More animals than I can tell;
Not only these, but books and things,
Such as a kind relation bringsâ€”
Old tales of â€œOnce upon a time,â€
And history retold in rhyme.
Winnie the Pooh Poems #4
Wind on the Hill
No one can tell me,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.
Itâ€™s flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldnâ€™t keep up with it,
Not if I ran.
But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.
And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.
So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes . . .
But where the wind comes from
Winnie the Pooh Poems #5
Christopher Robin goes
Hoppity, hoppity, hop.
Whenever I tell him
Politely to stop it, he
Says he canâ€™t possibly stop.
If he stopped hopping,
He couldnâ€™t go anywhere,
Poor little Christopher
Couldnâ€™t go anywhereâ€¦
Thatâ€™s why he always goes
on Monday when the sun is hot
I wonder to myself a lot
if this is true or if it’s not
that what is which and which is what
on Tuesday when it hails and snows
the feeling on me grows and grows
that hardly anybody knows
if those are these or these are those
on Wednesday when the sky is blue
and I have nothing else to do
I sometimes wonder if it’s true
that who is what and what is who
on Thursday when it starts to freeze
a hoarf-frost tinkles in the trees
how very readily one sees
that these are whose but whose are these