Poem of the Day


Forty Four Gallon Drum

by Virginia Lowe



The cricket ball

hits the make-shift wicket

The shout arises


The kids leap about

except the batsman

who hands on the bat

to the next street kid

female this time


Blackberry canes

pour over the edge

The juicy purple fruit

within reach

without prickles


Post cards and fliers

junk mail and love letters

magazines and bills

all drop in

Even an isolated

farm in the country

can’t escape

the tyranny of

the mail


In times past

forty-four gallon drums


in continuing utility

* Submitted in response to Words+Pictures #4



Words+Pictures #4

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Photo by Neil Mulligan


Are you up for a creative challenge? Occasionally 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 Narrogin in Western Australia where I recently presented a writing workshop. We drove through farm country and this wonderfully Aussie letterbox caught my photographer husband’s eye. I’m interested in seeing what you come up with in response to this combination of Word+Picture.


Poem of the Day

1 Comment

A Goat Afloat

by Pat Simmons


I wear a silver collar, I’m a rather special goat.

Hooves firmly planted on the ground, but once I was afloat.


‘A goat afloat?’ I hear you say. It’s true. Ask Captain Cook.

Twice I’ve sailed around the world.

I’d like to write a book


Memoirs of my life at sea

Jottings by a goat

The good the bad the ugly facts

Of life upon a boat


Well, all right, ships

Let’s get it right


Dolphin and Endeavour

And with respect, I must say this,

I really hope I never set hoof again on either one.

Three years was long enough.

Giving milk for all that time quite frankly dears was tough.


Smelly sheep and smelly hens, smelly cattle too

Smelly cats and smelly dogs

And very smelly crew.

Snow and storms and slippery decks, fresh grass in short supply.

No other goats to chatter with to help the time pass by.

But now I’m home and quite well known

(My story’s in the press)

Enjoying my retirement, free from stormy seas and stress.


I wear a silver collar, I’m a rather special goat.

Hooves firmly planted on the ground, but once I was afloat.