Lying on the Beach
One day I saw a bottle that was lying on the sand.
I asked: “Why are you lying?” Then I grabbed it with my hand.
The bottle made no answer and it gave a glassy stare:
It clearly felt it had a right to spend time lying there.
I saw a drip form on its lip and thought it was a tear,
Which seemed to say: “Just go away and leave me lying here.”
But I’d been taught that lying was a serious sort of sin,
So straight away, without delay, the liar went in the bin!
The Relay Race
Emu runs the fastest
when there’s nothing in the way.
Kangaroo has legs like springs
that bounce along all day.
Lizard keeps on going
when the sun is very hot.
Wombat gets through obstacles
when all the rest cannot.
Koala checks their timing
as the birds all cheer them on.
Platypus just watches
(as his legs aren’t very long).
And so they’ve planned their strategies
with calculated pace.
And as a team, their hopes on high,
they’ll WIN the relay race!
by Celia Berrell
An ideal sports-team will play to each member’s strengths and support each other’s weaknesses. We all have different talents and vulnerabilities. A caring team accommodates both. I like writing poems, and my friend Sharon Davson loves painting. Her art work is titled “Bush Relay”. Together I reckon we make a good team!
Apparently parrots, in parrot-like fashion,
repeat every word that you say,
but mocking birds shockingly mock with a passion,
a sarcastic mimic at play.
A lyre bird lies, and then tries to deny it,
hiding the truth from us all.
The crow lets us know he has nowhere to go,
by the long lazy tone of his call.
But the old kookaburra, such a cunning fella’,
don’t speak much, won’t sing us a song.
He just sees the humour in watching us humans,
and laughs at us all the day long.
© Allan Cropper
Poetry Prompt #38
Good Evening All,
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Poetry Prompt #38
This week’s prompt is “Sports”
It’s that time of the year again where there are significant finals in many sports.
In many country towns Footy finals were held on the weekend as well as State finals. Next weekend sees the AFL grand final in Melbourne as well as the NRL final in Sydney.
This topic is huge if we think about our own childhood experiences, teams we follow and sports celebrities in Australia as well as the extensive variety of sports representing many cultures.
Looking forward to your contributions.
Please send to: email@example.com
Here’s a quote to ponder on this week:
Shannon Hale is an American author of young adult fantasy.
My brain must have some spaces
Where secrets can be stored
And though I keep them hidden there
They cannot be ignored.
I think about them often,
Though no one else may know.
They come with me when I leave home,
No matter where I go.
I sometimes have to let them out –
They can be hard to store,
But when one secret is revealed
There soon may follow more.
To share them brings me great relief,
Since truth is hard to hide.
How special is a trusted friend
In whom we can confide!
Monty says: “The prompt got me thinking about secrets, where we keep them and how they can affect what we say, do and feel.”
A tranquil pond that’s glassy smooth
has surface tensioned skin un-grooved.
No creases spoil its surface layer
when peace and stillness fill the air.
Then one disturbance, pebble’s plop
an insect’s hop or stray raindrop,
creates a pattern we’ve just traced
to forces found in outer space.
Rippled wrinkles, round ornate
make circled waves that radiate
while rising, falling with the force
of gravity, which holds their course.
Space-time’s fabric will behave
in similar ways through gravity waves.
This rippled force from far beyond
makes patterns like our little pond.
by Celia Berrell
Contemplating the topic Secret Spaces makes me think of my own wrinkles! Oh and ripples in fabric, water and space. What could be hiding within those folds? Scientists confirm there are such things as GRAVITY WAVES. These spaces were so secret they went un-detected until only recently.
The Knitters Club
Eight year olds
With needles in hand
Wool under arms
A little craft band
Sit in a circle
At lunch break
On the oval
Life is great
This craft of old
Will never die
With these mini grannies
Knitting on high
While on yard duty on the oval one lunch time I came across a little group of knitters. They were very enthusiastic about their craft and that was the inspiration for this poem.
Oh goose you fly so very high,
I wish that I could too.
Up up, up up, into the sky,
There’s nothing I can do.
I stand here wishing I’d grow wings,
I never hope for other things.
I dream at night that I’ve gained height,
And the earth is almost out of sight.
But here I am, stuck on the ground,
Never to be seen or found,
Up there with you oh goose,
For I am just a humble moose.
Oh moose as I look down below,
I notice you especially.
You graze the grass, you sip the lake,
You wander so majestically.
Your antlers have such symmetry,
They make a stunning crown.
Your fur hide, is a royal robe,
Magnificent though brown.
And since you simply cannot fly;
You’re never going to fledge,
I’ve bought a gift – an airline ticket,
With a dozen golden eggs.
So dream your dreams,
You never know just what you will achieve.
Many things are possible,
So long as you believe.