Poem of the Day


Dog life


They hurtle off towards the beach

to yap at gulls beyond their reach,

with noses raised to catch a whiff

of new, exciting things to sniff.

Their focus locked on sea and sand,

their thoughts deliciously unplanned,

these wet and shaggy kindred souls

are jumping waves and digging holes.

If only they could teach me how

to revel in the here and now,

to halt my thoughts before they stray

to all that lurks beyond today,

the back to school, the daily slog.

If only I’d been born a dog!


© Jenny Erlanger

Poem of the Day

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‘Doctor, doctor, doctor,

I feel awfully like a goat.’

The doctor said, ‘Let’s see,’

As he put on his coat.

He tapped my head and, startled,

Said, ‘Two horns are hid!

How long have they been there?’

‘Since I was a kid.’

(Illus. Doctor peering at small horns among the hair on the head.)

‘Doctor, doctor, doctor,

I feel dreadfully like a cat.’

‘Hop up on the chair

And we’ll have a little chat.’

‘I’m not allowed to climb

On table, chair or couch.’

‘I heard a “Mia-ow”, I’m sure!’

‘All I said was “Ouch!”‘

(Illus. Doctor pressing tongue down and peering at the throat.)


By Edel Wignell

© The Australian Society of Authors


Poem of the Day

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An island continent down under too grand to just ignore,

A land of coastal water where sandy beaches line the shore,

Rugged range and dusty plain colliding with each other,

A land of inspiring contrast nature took its time to cover.


Green canopy of Kurrajong Tree provide jackaroos with their shade,

As they do battle with the outback where the stockmen’s legends made,

The cattle and the sheep will graze where the soil meets their needs,

But crippling droughts can catch them out as farmers plant their seeds.


Orchardists with their crops of fruit look skyward for a drink,

While sugar-cane on coastal plain provides our sweetest link,

Golden corn and ears of wheat dance round in yellow field,

The farmer working dawn to dusk to reap his vital yield.


Fire and flood can cause such havoc; there’s a harshness in our land,

But strength of character carries us through and neighbours lend a hand,

Koalas eat their gum leaves, kangaroos shy from where they’ve been,

Kookaburras laugh their loudest as platypus dips into the stream.


Gallipoli and Anzacs create fervour in our mind,

These brave young hearts that gave their lives, too many left behind,

Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, Uluru and Barrier Reef,

All provide us with our identity, our icons and belief.


© John Williams

Bits and Pieces from the poetry world


Winning poem

  • Bill Condon’s children poem, ‘The Scary Boy’ has won the Adults Writing for Children section of the annual Toolongi Poetry Festival Competition. The announcement was made by Stephen Whiteside, President of the C J Dennis Society, at a ceremony at The Singing Gardens, north-east of Melbourne where CJ Dennis used to live.

Poetry blog

Writing Prompt: A Poem and Push Ups

Many writers have a physically active lifestyle, and many of these writers believe that this physical activity aids them in their creative endeavors. I recently started doing this unusual writing prompt and have found it to be a lot of fun. It has equaled some interesting results.

The first thing I do is write down a title and then the number of lines I plan to write. On the side of the page I write down the number for every line. I usually do no more than 12 lines. I often use a piece of paper and not a computer for this prompt because I tend to sweat. Once I write down the line numbers I decide what exercise I am going to do. I usually do something like jumping jacks or squats that are easy to count. I don’t like to do more than one form of exercise because the main point is the writing.

Before I write the first line I have to do 20 jumping jacks, or 30 squats, or 5 pushups, etc, and then I write a line of poetry. For each line of poetry that I write I do the same amount of physical exercise.

It is really strange to go between one activity and the other, but I have found that I am more likely to write poems with a lot of energy and strangeness in them, while doing this prompt. Happy Writing!

© Emily Harstone





Poem of the Day

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The Cleaner


Our past washed away,

Our history is being dismissed

My background is being wiped off

Their life, gone.


The past is bleeding across,

A clean and white new slate.

The strands that drip down

Show those who still remember.


They remember our history with pride not displeasure,

They remember even after it being wiped clean

They remember everything,

Their life without dictation.


© Jemma Gray

Note: This poem won the junior secondary division prize of the 2014 Dorothea McKellar national poetry award

Poem of the Day


A Letter to the bombers

By Frog Printz

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Laughter that trembles your ears

A blast we’re having, hoorah! Hoorah!

and fly for seventy years


Higher and higher we don’t know where

or when or if we’ll ever get there

a grand festival awaits our arrive

greater than any we’d known when alive


Music and dancing and clouds in the air

friends and girls with colourful hair

Our Father will greet us with a heavenly grin

proud that we served our life for Him


But then we land with an almighty thud

our bones aching and covered in mud

a familiar sound we raise our eyes up

a laughing Satan is clutching his gut


Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Travelled so far but here you are

What joy, such fun, a grand parade!

Happy this devilish heart you’ve made


Tricked you were with great success

to do as I had fared

I tempted you in my prettiest dress

and brought you to my lair


None are the clouds, the dances and song

none are the friends and girls

now we see we’ve been fools all along

and sadness we’ve left in the world.


© Lloyd Riman

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Old Mates

I have a rambunctious cairn terrier,

Who is an obsessive bone-burier,

He buried the cat,

But she boomeranged back,

He’s never seen anything scarier.


Big Baz has a bossy blue heeler,

Who trained Baz to fetch and to feed her,

He thinks it so beaut,

In the back of her ute,

He even rolls over to please her.


Wayne has a pernickety poodle,

Pink bows tied atop her pert noodle,

On four legs she prances,

On two legs she dances,

For dinner she eats apple strudel.


Trev has a gold Labrador-oh,

So fat yet he always wants more-oh,

He chewed up Trev’s couch,

Down to splinters – ouch! OUCH!

Then flopped himself right through the floor-oh.


Old Pat has a spotty Dalmatian,

Who, wanting to change his location,

Squeezed through the gate,

Found a cute little mate,

And had a most pleasant vacation.


Young Ron has a daft border collie,

Who thinks herding sheep most unjolly,

He acts like a clown,

Juggles balls up and down,

While rolling along on a trolley.


Wayne’s shed’s where we all meet on Fridays,

A beer and a barbie there always,

Makes the tails wag,

As we gobble a snag,

And yarn about life in the old days.


Glenys Eskdale