The Jungle’s Chooky Robin Hood 

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The Jungle’s Chooky Robin Hood


You have to love those scrub-fowl chooks

seen scratching in the forest’s nooks.

Like Robin and his Merry Men

they roam the jungle, cock and hen.

They’re dressed in dowdy blue and brown

while orange legs are bright low down.

And if you spot one, notice that

it wears a quiff-like Sherwood hat!


They build big nests of forest leaves;

communal giant compost heaps

to bury eggs and keep them warm

and hide them from the jungle’s harm.

And in the process, make a mess

of scattered leaves, continuous

that cover paths and walking trails

initiating human wails.


But most of all I love their calls

that echo through the wooded halls.

To some, it sounds like strangled kids

that shriek for help before they’re missed.

But night and day, their yodelling

is interspersed with chuckling

that signifies they’re happy chooks

despite their rather funny looks.



While I was living in the Daintree Rainforest, I loved hearing the calls of the Orange-footed scrub fowl, chortling and chuckling, squawking and shouting.  Keeping the quaint paths to the guest cabins safe and tidy was a constant job for resort staff as these native chooks make a terrible mess, flicking leaves everywhere.  But they always seem so happy!


by Celia Berrell


The Love of Eggs


The Love of Eggs


Cluck, cluck, cluck

I’m a chicken.

I dig dirt,

And lay eggs all day.


Cluck, cluck, cluck

But today’s no ordinary day.

I have a massive problem.

An egg is stuck.


Cluck, cluck, cluck

It’s no ordinary egg.

I’ve created a square egg.

How do I get this egg out?


Cluck, cluck, cluck

My eyes are watering.

The egg’s stuck.

Some olive oil will do the trick.


Cluck, cluck, cluck

Phew the square egg’s out.

Chicken hall of fame for me.

One problem, I’ll never do it again.



by Karen Hendriks


Poetry Prompt #40

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This week’s prompt is “Chickens”

A few ideas:

  • Why did the chicken cross the road?
  • Chickens pecking order
  • Feathers flying
  • The love of eggs
  • The noisy rooster
  • Hens brooding


Looking forward to your contributions.

Please send to:


This week’s quote to ponder on:

“With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion”

Edgar Allan Poe

(An American writer 1809-1849)


Swerving Irving

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Swerving Irving


Irving McDrane can fly a plane;

He flies it up and down again.

He flies by night, he flies by day,

Upside down or up the right way.


He loops the loop and barrel rolls,

Through the air he twists and scrolls,

Across the sky with great panache …

Look out, Irving — you’re going to crash!






Irving McDrane can’t fly a plane;

Now he goes everywhere by train.





                                      James Aitchison


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When people say: “Spring’s late this year!”

They must be wrong – that’s seems quite clear.

It always starts on one firm date,

So cannot possibly be late!

At school I’m sure that we rehearsed

That Spring begins September 1st.

If every year that does not change,

To say: “Spring’s late”, seems very strange.


But if you’re north of the equator,

Spring for you is six months later.

That would mean you are not here,

But in the other hemisphere.

September there’s not Spring at all:

It starts their Autumn or their Fall,

When trees’ green leaves may turn to brown

And from above come floating down.


Should someone say that Spring is late,

I do not start some great debate

And tell them what I learnt at school

And treat them like a silly fool,

Since change, for seasons, can be slow.

It’s warmth they want: their plants to grow,

Their flowers to bud and birds to sing.

Till that time comes, it won’t seem Spring.


Monty Edwards

A Leisurely Bike Ride


A Leisurely Bike Ride.

A leisurely bike ride along the bush track,

Nothing too strenuous – 2ks then back.

Nothing competitive; dawdling along,

Enjoying the scenery and humming a song.


A leisurely bike ride – me on my own,

No need to hurry, 2ks then home.

4ks in total, pedalling with ease,

One cloud of pollen watch out I may sneeze.


The bell birds say “tink” as I ride through their patch.

Then past an echidna having a scratch.

Butterflies easily keep up the pace.

Dragonflies hover; their wings look like lace.


The ride is delightful – it’s time to turn back,

But just wait a minute – what’s that on the track?

A kangaroo lazily hopping ahead.

Is it a grey or is it a red? I’ll just go and see…


Faster and faster I quadruple my cadence

Just scraping through a gap in a farm fence.

The kangaroo is bounding in front at great speed,

But I am the one who will soon take the lead.


I crank up the gears and decrease my resistance.

By crouching down low, in less time more distance.

With speed and endurance I’ve almost succeeded,

In passing a grey kangaroo unpreceded.


The tail wind is strong; I am zooming along,

But all of a sudden something goes wrong.

The kangaroo disappears off the bush track,

Into the scrub and doesn’t hop back.


I skid to a halt – my heart is arrhythmic.

I cannot believe it – oh what a mean trick!

And as the dust settles, I stand all alone,

Except for a sign that says – “20ks home.”


Louise McCarthy


I was just thinking of the competitive nature of sport weather it is with others or one’s self.

I love bike riding on the local rail trail. This is an exaggerated version of what happened on one of my late afternoon rides – which was supposed to be leisurely!





A Casual Pick

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It all began with a casual pick

by the man sitting opposite me

on the train home last night

at first hardly noticeable

it grew to be a performance

involving both nostrils

which was quite a sight


Some efforts were hard fought

and were flicked triumphantly

to a growing mound on the floor

while others more sizeable

were rolled into balls and

thrown high up into the air

before being lovingly placed

in a brown bread sandwich


All this wasn’t appreciated

by the other passengers

who were mostly aghast

but then their noses

began to twitch as well

and some surreptitiously

had a bit of a pick

and soon the whole carriage

was furiously picking away


And then the man’s head

started to shrink right

before there very eyes

and it soon began to

resemble a withered prune

so they all stopped picking

and felt a little bit silly

and went back to fiddling

with their new digital devices

or gazing out the train window


Glen Ewing

Hibiscus In A Hurry

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Hibiscus In A Hurry



The hasty Hibiscus has burst into flower.

A glamorous beauty that seems a bit rude.

Its bloom only lasts about twenty four hours

before it will wilt to a shrivelling prude.


Its pistil’s so long, like it’s poked out its tongue

to grab the attention of passers-by.

The tip has a group of five stigmas it’s hung

to catch any pollen before it will die.


Along the pink sides of its long pistil style

the anthers hold pollen that’s yellow and bright.

Like sparks flying off from a Catherine-wheel

or sparkler lit on a dusky night.


With silky-soft petals in reds, white or gold

they need to attract pollinators for hire.

Impatient, imposing.  They’re terribly bold.

Like flowery dragons all breathing fire.


by Celia Berrell

(a fancy-dress pollen party)


Near my home, a snowdrift of bright yellow petals rain from boughs cascading gold onto the roadside. Hibiscus flowers poke out their tongues as I walk by.  And native bees pollinate dainty flowers in what must be called “a humming-bee tree”. This is Cairns – tropical suburbia in spring!

A bit of an introduction from Jeanie



Thought to do a bit of an introduction. That way you know a little about the person you are emailing.

My name is Jeanie Axton and I live in Mt Gambier in the South East of South Australia.

I am married to Nick and we have three grown up children, one grandson, 2 old dogs and one old cat. I was born in Mt Gambier then moved to Adelaide when I was 17 to do my teacher training at Underdale SACAE before taking on many contracts and then securing a permanent job with the SA Education Department at North Gambier Primary School. While on leave with our third child I had an opportunity to take up a position at St Martins Lutheran College in Mt Gambier. I was originally Middle Childhood trained but as St Martins evolved into a R-12 College I had opportunities to teach in the secondary school. Currently I teach part time covering Desktop Publishing and Web Creation in the senior years and Food and Nutrition, Technology and Media and Girls Christian Studies at Year 9 level.

I have been dabbling in poetry since I was young. Whenever I felt something was worth writing about I would jot it down and then with the transfer to digital technologies I would keep them in a folder. It is only in recent years I felt a desire to share and publish online.

I went online searching for sites and found the Australian Children’s Poetry site. Another site I contacted was dogslife asking if they would like a dog poem once a month. They agreed and I have been publishing online through them for a few years. Last months poem was about food socks

Another poem  I worked on for printing was through Sally Odger’s “The Toy Chest Anthology” submitting a poem about a scooter “ Scoot Scoot”.

I’ve written as well for Silver Birch Press via Facebook.

This was more of a serious poem but I thought I’d give it a go.

I love writing funny poems. A poem that really inspires me is Spike Milligan’s  “None today thankyou” from his 1981 book “Unspun socks from a chickens laundry”


Of course, as any writer would, one day I would love to either Publish or Self publish a book but I have a lot to learn first.

I’m thinking of doing an online writing course?

I feel quite humbled with the calibre of children’s poets who I’m now in contact with.

Any suggestions emailed to me are very appreciated.

In the meantime, please continue with your contributions. If you have a few other poems up your sleeve and you would like to have them on the site please send through and I’ll put them in my spare folder for the slower weeks.

Any suggestions on ideas for the blog please send through. One idea I have been sent is for poets to add in a few tips/notes for teachers with their poems or I could even add them in for you. Let me know what you think?

Have a good day everyone: keep writing



Here is a photo that was taken on the recent long weekend at Southbank in Melbourne

Poetry Prompt #39 “Spring has Sprung”

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This weeks prompt is “Spring has Sprung”

Please email your contributions to:

This weeks quote to ponder on:

“The true poem rests between the words”

Vanna Bonta (An Italian-American writer, actress and inventor)