Bogey Biology

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Bogey Biology


Like microscopic armies

battling germy foes

a microbe war is raging

inside our snotty nose.


Staphylococcus aureus

can make us very ill.

Resistant to most medicines

it’s difficult to kill.


But scientists who study snot

have seen these bad germs die

when a different bacteria

is plentiful nearby.


They plan to use this winning germ

to make antibiotics.

Such science research might be called

exotic snot biotics!


by Celia Berrell


I was fascinated by this inside-story about noses …  apparently it’s a snotty battlefield up there!  This new is not to be sneezed at – honestly


Mango Spell




I’m sitting in the shade of the mango tree.

It’s a white-hot day but it doesn’t bother me

’cause it’s cool in the shade of the mango tree

eating mango.


The round ripe fruits of the mango tree

glow like sunsets all around me

and a warm rich perfume dizzies me

from the mango.


So there isn’t any place I’d rather be

than the dark green shade of the mango tree

with golden mangoes tempting me

on the mango.


©  Kate O’Neil


The Good Ship Gumtree



We pinch a tea towel for a sail,

And to the deck the ladder scale.

With any luck we’ll spy a whale

From the Good Ship Gumtree.


We climb the rigging till we stop;

Reach the crow’s nest up tiptop,

Then down upon the floor we flop,

On the Good Ship Gumtree.


No crows upon this ship today,

But cockies screech and fly away.

And sailing onwards, branches sway

On the Good Ship Gumtree.


The horizon is a sea of green:

The biggest waves you’ve ever seen.

Only the breeze knows where we’ve been

On the Good Ship Gumtree.


Ahoy, ahoy, what’s that ahead?

A school of fish – a flock instead?

Parrotfish of blue and red

Around the Good Ship Gumtree.


And when sunset floods the sky

We head to port and dock nearby.

“Was it fun?” asks Mum. “Aye, aye,

We sailed the Good Ship Gumtree.”



When I was tree-climbing age, I enjoyed the view from the top branches, and only once had to be rescued!

Jaz Stutley

 Things I love about Christmas

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 Things I love about Christmas

For Natalie


Christmas is my favourite time,

the best part of the year,

it’s when we get to celebrate,

our hearts so full of cheer.


I love Christmas stories,

I love Christmas songs,

I love Carols in the Park

where we can sing along.


I love the Christmas table

with its cloth of red and gold,

crackers, candles, fresh pine trees

from deep forests of old.


I love to wrap the presents,

put one beneath the wishing tree,

I love decorations and all the lights

sparkling down on me.


I love the magic of Christmas Eve,

leaving Santa his milk and mince pies,

some carrots for his reindeer

who soar down from the skies.


On Christmas morning I awake

to think of the baby come from above,

remembering why we do it all

because of love, love, love.




Vanessa Proctor

Rain dear/A Christmas Poem

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Merry Christmas Everyone

Rain dear

In Australia, when it’s Christmas hot,

A farmer’s keen for a little drop

of rain from heaven, upon his roof,

of Santa’s gifts, he looks for proof

Then drumming starts above; he hears

his wife call out “It’s rain dear!”

Walter de Jong

A Christmas Poem

Christmas time, oh Christmas, Time of sentiment so nice.

Christmas time, ah, Family time, With poems by Helen Steiner Rice.

Christmas comes but once a year On the 25th of December,

And makes the rest of the year, With its sorrows and joys,

That much sweeter to remember.

Bridh Hancock

A Christmas Question/Old Technology


A Christmas Question

What have we done with Christmas?

It doesn’t seem the same

Now fewer sing the carols

Or mention Jesus’ name.

And though we think of giving,

Does getting matter more?

I far prefer the Christmas

We used to have before:


A Christmas that was simple

With family, food and fun:

A time for feeling thankful

That God had sent his Son.

A Christmas that was joyful

And love was at the core.

I far prefer the Christmas

We used to have before.


Not Christmas just for rich folk

And those with cash to spare.

It need not be expensive

To show someone you care.

The faith and hope of Christmas

Are free to rich or poor.

I far prefer the Christmas

We used to have before.


Yes, I am getting older:

My hair now turned quite grey.

I cannot count my wrinkles,

Or hear all people say,

But seeing stressed-out shoppers,

Rush round from store to store,

I far prefer the Christmas

We used to have before.


For Christmas has a history

I fear we may forget:

Events once clothed in mystery,

Which fascinate me yet.

The Gospels which describe them

Were written to ensure

We grasp the point of Christmas

As once we did before.

– Monty Edwards


Old Technology

The wise men they travelled so terribly far;

With their camels and gifts,

They followed a star.

And how did they know just where they should go?

That the Christ child was born; who told them so?

‘Twas a Hark! From an angel!

An angel from high.

Not a tweet from the internet

While using Wi-Fi!


By Louise McCarthy










12 Days of Dogness

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12 Days of Dogness


On the first day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

Last years Christmas stocking

In the bottom was a pea


On the second day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

A chewed up Christmas decoration

For our brand new tree


On the third day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

A dug up bone from last year

And dumped it by my knee


On the fourth day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

An old Santa hat

Found under the old settee


On the fifth day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

A bit of Christmas cake

To go with my cup of tea


On the sixth day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

A striped candy cane

Stolen from the tree


On the seventh day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

A string of Christmas lights

He thought needed to be freed


On the eighth day of Christmas

My doggy bought to me

A potato from the vegie patch

One less for Christmas tea


On the ninth day of Christmas

My doggy bought to me

A freshly baked mince pie

And eyes that pleaded “feed me”


On the tenth day of Christmas

My doggy bought to me

An old nativity book

Pages ripped out for me to see


On the eleventh day of Christmas

My doggy bought to me

Santa’s special cookies

Left out for Santa’s feed


On the twelfth day of Christmas

My doggie bought to me

A heart of Christmas cheer

Which was really all I need

Jeanie Axton


A Koalas’s Christmas Carol/The Santa Man

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Two poems today: Thankyou for the terrific response


A Koala’s Christmas Carol


In a great, grey gum,

As daybreak crept.

Snoozy Koala

Slept and she slept.


Her branch was cosy –

Firm, yet snug.

It cradled her gently

In a eucalypt hug.


She was alone,

Just as she preferred.

No possums, no gliders,

Not even a bird.


But then one day

Something was wrong,

Her tree was humming

Some terrible song.


“Come along Snoozy,

You know that can’t be.

You’re losing your marbles,

It’s only a tree!”


But on went the music,

Through day and through night,

And the mystery choir

Remained out of sight.


The lyrics were strange

Words she did not know.

Like jingling bells

And reindeer in snow.


No longer at peace

In her comfy bed,

Those strange sounding words

Got stuck in her head.


She could take it no more,

The sound she must follow,

So she searched and discovered,

A glittery hollow.


But who were these folk,

All waiting in line,

And what was that painted

On the entrance sign.


“Christmas Committee

And carollers free.

Everyone else:

A five gumnut fee.”


“What is this nonsense?”

She wanted to know.

An owl said, “It’s the

Bush Christmas Show.”


She was curious now

To see this big bash.

But koalas really have

No use for cash.


She had no gumnuts

So she couldn’t pay.

She hummed as she

Glumly turned on her way.


Just at that minute,

Who should pass by,

But the chief choir mistress,

Madame La Magpie.


“Oh darling koala,

You’re just what I need!

Your pitch is quite perfect,

Just follow my lead.”


Now Snoozy Koala

Was usually shy,

But she couldn’t resist

And followed the pie.


In front of the crowd

She remembered each word

To all of the Christmasy songs

That she’d heard.


The crowd stood and cheered

As she took her bow.

She understood what all of this

Fuss was for now.


She hugged her new friends,

She’d had such a ball.

And she beamed as she cried,

“Merry Christmas to all!”

Kylie Covark




That Santa Man


It’s Christmas Eve and everywhere,

Children lie awake and stare,

Hoping for a single glimpse,

Of sleigh or boots or reindeer prints.


They leave out carrots, cookies, milk,

And stockings made of wool or silk.

They hang a sign that says ‘Stop Here,’

In hopes that Santa will appear.


But I’m a grinch, I am a scrooge,

I think that jolly man is rude!

Entering a person’s house,

Sneaking quiet as a mouse.


Break and enter! It’s a crime.

It’s not your house, it’s mine, mine, mine!

Keep your gifts and Christmas cheer,

I do not want it brought in here.


I’ve barred the windows, locked the doors.

I have no chimney, but that Claus,

He gets inside, I don’t know how.

I’ll keep him out this year I vow.


I lie awake, I will no doze,

I’ll catch that man in bright red clothes.

I’ll hand him in to the police,

They’ll give him twenty years at least.


The clock strikes midnight in the hall,

My eyelids droop, a far off call,

Says, ‘Ho Ho Ho,’ in chuckled voice,

I rouse myself and then rejoice.


I think I’ve caught him out this time,

But down the stairs what do I find?

Before my eyes a horrid sight,

Silver tinsel, baubles bright!


Wreaths and stars in golden hues,

Gifts inside my socks and shoes!

Candy canes and Christmas cake,

Fairy lights, for goodness sake!


Every inch from floor to roof,

Is decorated, there’s my proof,

He’s been and gone, that Santa man,

Thwarted again my Christmas plan.


And in my yard, what’s this I see?

There’s a live nativity!

Donkeys, cows and baaing sheep,

Baby Jesus fast asleep.


Mary, Joseph, wise men too,

Shepherds galore, what can I do?

It’s time that I admit defeat,

Time to surrender and retreat.


I’ll write a card to Mr. Claus,

For when it comes to Christmas wars,

I’ve tried my best but I give in.

Can’t keep him out. Santa, you win.

By Lynelle Kendall