Author Archives: australianchildrenspoetry
“Australian Bushfires” by James Aitchison
Leave a commentAustralian bushfires
They say the smoke has reached Chile.
Not just the smoke from our blazing forests,
But the smoke from lost fireys and townsfolk,
And thousands oft homes,
And five hundred million wild animals,
And cattle and sheep and bold horses
Burned alive in once-lush paddocks.
They say the smoke is toxic. It is not.
It is sacred.

“Leaving” by Louise McCarthy
Leave a commentOne hour until midnight,
A strange and warning silence,
Do we stay – what are the odds though?
Sleep is no defence.
The judgment is to leave,
Sad words will not escape,
Sentiment is beaten,
Just a few things can we take.
A box of precious items –
Photographs, souvenirs,
Silly little trinkets,
A change of clothes, books,
Pillows and some blankets.
Tall trees stand surrendered,
The backdrop of our home,
The sky is red and the air is hot,
And tomorrow is unknown.

“Australia Day” by Toni Newell
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Our wonderful Australia,
Is a wonderful country,
That’s opened its arms,
To diversity.
It’s integrated people,
From afar and near,
Absorbed different cultures,
Given support to those in fear.
And now Australia’s shared,
With Indigenous and white,
And skins of many colours,
Which come together to unite.
Our richness has evolved,
From just food upon our plate,
But to customs, religion, art,
Architecture, and debate.
It is indeed a tapestry,
Of cultures intertwined,
And should be viewed and loved,
Not trampled by mankind.
This is Australia’s story,
And whilst troubles have been seen,
We strive to make it better,
Move forward from what has been.
So, let us all embrace,
Our great diversity,
Which brings us all together,
In this, our ‘sunburnt’ country.
Herald on Australia Day,
So, we can celebrate,
A country which embraces,
And where all can become a ‘mate’.

“CHILDHOOD’S END” by Margaret Pearce
Leave a commentCHILDHOOD’S END
Once he was a puppy small
As cute as cute could be
Children loved him one and all
As everyone could see.
Soon he grew to adulthood
So helpful to be directed
Guarding as a good dog should
All property as selected.
He grew old and ailing
With childhood left behind
All love and caring paling
By dark cares of adult kind.
Neglected deaf and lame
Strayed on the railway track
Unheard the noisy train
Was death so very black?
The punctual train no outrage
As death disposed so cleanly
Of the inconvenience of age
And incontinence so unseemly.
Guilt caused memories to awake
Returning back to when
Childhood lacked all heartbreak
And caring was easier then.
©
Margaret Pearce

“A Letter from the Principal” by Pat Simmons
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Dear Mr. Smith and Mrs. Smith,
I’m writing you this letter
because your son’s behaviour
isn’t getting any better.
His writing is untidy and
his spelling is a worry.
He’s often late and consequently,
always in a hurry.
His recent science project
nearly caused a school disaster.
The explosion covered twenty boys
in clouds of ceiling plaster.
He’s been with us for twenty years,
or is it twenty two?
Dear Mr. Smith and Mrs. Smith,
just what are we to do?
He’s untidy and he’s silly
and he always acts the fool,
but still the students say he’s
the best teacher in our school.





