The sun finds a hole in a cloud.
It shines on me.
‘Why on me?’ I say to the sun.
‘Because you’ve just begun.’
‘Mummy says I am three.’
‘That’s fine,’ says the sun,
‘You’ve just begun. Not me.’
I look at the sun, I can hardly see –
It’s so big and shiny and proud.
I am proud to be three
With a shine that is mine.
I smile like the sun
It’s fine.
Our neighbour has a little dog.
A cute white fluffy puppy.
It growls and howls both day and night.
Alone, it’s never happy.
A well-loved dog is like a friend
who keeps us company.
We’ll both play games and go for walks.
That’s how it’s meant to be.
I wish our neighbour’s puppy-dog
was well-cared-for like that.
No time to spend with doggy friend …
then maybe get a cat?
“Blue and green should not be seen
Without a colour in between;
And as for the clash of green and red,
Enough, I am sure, has now been said”;
But who will give this wisdom to Nature?
Or bravely try to correct the Creator?
Life on earth is so much richer
For its clash of colours; this a feature of
Identity, movement, and time passing; of
Family, food, and enemies pausing.
Blue & green and green & red
Are seen in life and everywhere,
From the depth of the oceans
To out among the stars.
What profusion and confusion of colours !
But this procedure is not wise
When we classify people by their shape and size,
And by the colour of their unclad skin:
That shows an intellect dismal and thin.
Let blue and green be seen in the sunlight;
And red and green go dancing as one. Right !
Bridh Hancock
Samuel Emanuel didn’t like much.
Samuel Emanuel wouldn’t eat lunch.
He refused to eat his toast,
And the thing he hates the most,
Is the healthy cheesy sandwich in his lunch box.
Samuel Emanuel didn’t like much.
Samuel Emanuel didn’t eat lunch.
He didn’t like to wash his hair,
Or indeed to ever share,
And when bedtime comes at night
He’s hiding outside.
Samuel Emanuel didn’t like much.
Samuel Emanuel wouldn’t eat lunch.
He doesn’t like to pack his toys,
And he’s mean to other boys,
And when dad says time for home
He’s on the rooftop.
Samuel Emanuel’s dad was getting sad.
Samuel Emanuel’s dad was going mad.
He threw a tanty on the floor,
And banged his head upon the door.
When Samuel he saw this he was so shocked!
Samuel Emanuel didn’t like much,
Samuel Emanuel wouldn’t eat lunch.
When he saw his dad so mad,
And he started feeling bad.
He decided it was time to STOP IT NOW!
Samuel Emanuel didn’t ask much,
Samuel Emanuel ate his whole lunch.
He was happy to eat toast,
And the thing he likes the most
Is the healthy, cheesy sandwich in his lunch box.
Our pretty budgies love to chatter
Oh how they love a little natter
It’s no good asking for some peace
They keep on talking, never cease
Maybe they’re saying their name in Latin
Melopsittacus undulates, they’re chanting
Or possibly how hot’s the weather
And wonderfully cooling, to fluff their feathers
They may be talking of the crow outside
And laughing at his big backside
Or simply rejoicing at being alive
To wake up cheery at half past five.
The liquid metal mercury
has got a sordid history.
In Georgian times they put it in
their tonics as a medicine.
But since it’s toxic to nerve cells
it causes nasty dizzy spells
loss of sight and hearing ills.
Too much and then this poison kills!
Its common name is quicksilver.
A shining river, moving mirror
found in old thermometers
tooth-fillings and barometers.
But back in Eighteenth Century
the rich and poor thought mercury
would have a magic healing trick.
Instead it made them very sick!
The air was alpine fresh and the lake surface glistening
Bird song trilled for those who were listening
What a great afternoon, thought Glenn feeling chipper
A perfect time to start up his new whipper snipper
It purred smoothly in his experienced hands
Trimmed edges effortlessly at the most gentle command
But while promenading proudly around his neat lawn
Glenn spied a dog poo and he wanted it gone
It looked dry as dust so he thought he’d attack
With his fearless whipper snipper, just give it a smack
And it would harmlessly splinter and shatter
But it was still moist so it splished and splattered
It splattered with power, it splattered with grace
It splattered all over Glenn’s spluttering face
Flew up his nostrils, did not want to be wasted
Left him a flavour the worst he’d ever tasted
It splattered his T-shirt, it splattered his jeans
It was very much a poo splishing, splattering scene
Poor Glenn hastily switched off the power
And raced indoors for an emergency shower
Alessandra Liverani
At last we’re going to get a dog,
a loving family pet
but, sadly, we all disagree
on just which dog to get.
Mum who loves her garden beds,
who weeds in them for hours
demands a breed that’s guaranteed
to stay away from flowers.
Liz would like a Pekinese
to put up on her lap
but Mum believes that dogs like these
will only bite and yap.
Dad is sure a boxer dog
would guard the house from robbers
but Liz and I would rather die
than have a dog that slobbers
And I would like a Doberman
but Liz says they’re too scary.
She’s still saying Please, a Pekinese
but I say they’re too hairy.
The more we talk, the more I think
we’ll never get this pet.
The dog we need must be a breed
that hasn’t surfaced yet.
Australian Children’s Poetry 