Words+Pictures #3

my kidsLAND

Are you up for a creative challenge? Each week I post a picture plus a word. They might – or might not – have any connection. Then it’s over to you to write a poem for children inspired by the word and picture. Send your poem to me at traffa-m(at)bigpond.net.au and I’ll post a selection to feature as Poem of the Day.

Today’s picture was taken at Kalbarri in Western Australia during a family holiday. Shadows have always fascinated me, the way they shift and change setting my imagination wandering in all sorts of directions. I’m interested in seeing what you come up with in response to this combination of Word+Picture.



Poem of the Day


Doorway to Destiny

By Lynelle Kendall


Castle door. Gaping

like a wound in a


stone wall.


Yawning black, back, back

Into the depthless dark.


Stand on the threshold.

A feeling of falling,

Or something ghostly

Calling, calling.


Shudder to think

What peril awaits

For those who

Enter here.



Poem of the Day


Counting down

by Nadine Cranenburgh


Five minutes left –

not much longer to wait

When the bell goes

I’ll zoom right through the gate


Left at the rose bush,

scream down Breakneck Hill,

bump through the creek bed

right up to Pa’s mill


Spokes spitting gravel

I’ll skid to a halt

my bike left to rest

like a sweat-lathered colt


Scrubbed up and changed

then I’m right for a snack –

left-over shepherd’s pie,

sigh and lean back


“Wake up right now!”

teacher’s voice breaks my spell.

Four minutes left…

I can’t wait for the bell



Poem of the Day


Behind the door

by Jenny Erlanger


I know it sounds a bit absurd

but you should hear what I have heard

about the things that have occurred

inside that stony tomb.


There’s talk of heaps of human bones,

of eerie grunts and squeals and moans,

of blood that oozes from the stones

and ghosts that haunt each room.


They say the spiders down the halls

are all the size of bowling balls

and prone to jumping off the walls

and landing in your hair


Of course, I don’t know this for sure.

It’s time for someone to explore

what really lies beyond that door.

Please enter… if you dare.


  • Submitted in response to Words+Pictures #2 poetry challenge



Photo: Neil Mulligan

Poem of the Day

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Back Soon!

By Louise Molloy

He stands before the dragon
And sidles closer still,
No fiery breath nor fury greets him,
But eyes half-shut
And scales dull grey,

The dragon lets its tongue loll
And splutters loudly, ENTER!
He climbs each quiver
Of its quivering tongue
And peers into its dark, dark mouth,

He peers down its dark, dark throat,
“I’ll need my weapons to cure your ill.”
“No worries, I’ll be back soon.”


  • Inspired by Words+Pictures #2 poetry challenge. Louise said she took poetic licence and ‘The castle with its steps, dark door and hooded window turned into a sick dragon for me’.

    Photo: Neil Mulligan

    Photo: Neil Mulligan


Poem of the Day

1 Comment


by Allan Cropper


These circles give me headaches

and here’s the reason why,

I’m fine with sums and minuses

but though I always try

This symbol keeps on bugging me

I thought that I would cry

The day my teacher tried to teach me pi


This squiggly little symbol

keeps on doing in my head

Looks nothing like a number but

more like a tiny shed

I’m feeling pretty hungry so

give me pie charts instead

My teacher keeps on trying to teach me pi


The inside of a circle is

pi r squared I’m told

And 2 pi r the measurement

the distance round a hole

This never ending talk of pi

just drives me up the wall

My teacher won’t stop trying to teach me pi


A quadratic equation can

At worse make me irate

Serve me long division, and

I’ll start to salivate

Pi will always be the thing

I dearly love to hate

My teacher won’t stop trying to teach me pi

Poem of the Day

1 Comment

Robyn Youl submitted this response to my recent Words+Pictures poetry challenge…





are for fun


after school stuff.




black school shoes

lace up cocoons



Your feet

come out

to stretch your legs

and fly.



are not made

to walk

they’re made to run.





Sneaker shod

I walk

I run

to the shops,

to my friends

to Little Aths

.. and at the end

of the day

home to Mum.


Are Refugee Kids

Sneaker shod


they walk

they run


the bombs

the bad men

with guns?


Are Refugee kids

Sneaker shod


they walk

they run



family and friends

into the unknown?