“I form letters” by Julie Cahill

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I form letters- round and tall
Some that are chubby and others small.
A is a ladder
B is two bumps
C is wide open
D is one lump.
Twenty-six make the alphabet
A lot to remember, a lot to forget.
Letters I’m able to rearrange
into simple words while others are strange.
Different words of various lengths
form sentences which make good sense.
Paragraphs form chapters; are short
making my stories easy to sort.
Writing words; composing prose
Is much more challenging than counting my toes.
But writing poems and essays and names
is superbly fun, like playing games.

“Recycled Water” by Celia Berrell

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We’re 10cc’s of water and

although the Earth’s our base

we recently went travelling

up there – in outer space.

 

An astronaut had drunk us

just before his rocket ride.

And so we were the stowaways

that hid in his insides.

 

Meeting different molecules

we made a lot of friends.

With some we only mingled

while with others we held hands.

 

While staying in the astronaut

we all kept nice and warm

and floated round inside him and

explored his body’s form.

 

Eventually he moved us out.

So off we raced in glee.

With other friends I think we were

all classified as pee.

 

We found ourselves inside a box

with membrane walls all new.

Its holes were just the perfect size

for water to get through.

 

We said goodbye to all our friends

as they were far too fat

to wriggle through those membrane walls

and join us for a chat.

 

Now squeaky clean we hung around

inside some holding pen.

Until we found ourselves inside

the astronaut again!

 

“The Farmyard” by Louise McCarthy

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Harriet Heaven-Sent of Eastern Australia,

Packed her bags with her paraphernalia.

She waved farewell as she boarded the bus,

While friends and relatives made quite a fuss.

 

She had made them proud. It was such a surprise,

The day that Harriet won the grand prize.

Harriet Heaven-Sent, a writer of stanza,

An artist, a wordsmith had won the bonanza!

 

Harriet Heaven-Sent had written a ode.

She’d won a year’s residency at “The Farmyard.”

The retreat that inspires the most beautiful writing,

A remote island paradise – so rare; so exciting…

 

And after a year of running the farm,

Where each dawn the rooster crowed with alarm,

And the sheep followed close and the goats liked to munch,

On Harriet’s washing, for dinner and lunch.

 

Where the donkey would bray when Harriet wrote,

He-haw! Hee-haw! Not a melodic note.

And as for the harmony, the horses and cows –

Succeeded in raising Harriet’s brows.

 

Well the list did go on, but there was no escape,

As a burly great bull was parked at the gate!

So Harriet Heaven-Sent stayed for the year.

After which time she changed her career.

 

Yes, Harriet Heaven-Sent – was returned to her home,

She was air-lifted out – the writer of poems.

And to the dismay of all whom she knew,

Became a farmer! – Yes this is true.

 

So each year a chopper drops in a bard

A writer of stanza, to work“The Farmyard.”

And no one knows why but each year’s the same,

The bard returns home with a whole different aim.