Compound Interest
You are the jingle in my bells
The tick in my tock
The flash in my light
The spring in my time
The whirl in my wind
The tell in my tale
You are the ever in my lasting
The ginger in my bread
The life in my boat
It has to be said
Author Archives: australianchildrenspoetry
Casanova Can by Kylie Covark
Leave a commentCasanova caterpillar
Had a bold ambition,
He wouldn’t be a butterfly
(Though that was the tradition).
He’d seen the others growing wings
And didn’t fancy that,
Instead he’d shed some letters
And turn into a cat.
Cousin Costa chaffed him.
“It cannot be”, he said,
“Come on Casanova,
You’ve really lost your head.”
“I can! I can! I can!”
Casanova cried.
He could do most anything
If he only tried.
And when it was the moment
To weave his own cocoon,
Casanova said “Farewell,
I’ll be a real cat soon.”
And so with bated breath,
(It really was a thriller),
He wished away the e and r
And the entire pillar.
And then oh joy of joys
The time came to be free,
And life was so much lighter,
As just a C-A-T.
By Kylie Covark
“The Singing Spaniel” by Jeanie Axton
Leave a commentLee and Jazz
On the grass
Ukulele in hand
Learning fast
Tune in the air
Jazz’s ears prick
She starts to sing
Learning real quick
Songs in the garden
Float down the street
A boy and his dog
Sounding so sweet
A bond forged in music
A love made to last
The sounds of friendship
In music is cast
Jeanie Axton
Oh Blow it by Bill Condon
Leave a comment
My nose was feeling ugly,
but I knew just the ticket.
I put it in a beauty contest . . .
the judges didn’t pick it.
Bill Condon
If N is for Nose by Lynelle Kendall
Leave a commentIf N is for nose,
And T is for toes,
Then why is it K,
For someone who knows?
Knights have armour,
And knots get tied,
But not if the K,
Decides to hide.
And knives and forks,
Set the spoon on edge,
If the silent K’s,
Left upon a ledge.
I knock with my knuckle,
And kneel on one knee,
With a knack for knitting,
So effortlessly,
But for all my knowledge,
I have to say,
I’d have no knickers,
Without silent K.
By Lynelle Kendall
What the nose knows by Kate O’Neil
Leave a commentI don’t suppose
there is a nose
more famous than
Pinocchio’s.
His snozzle shows
by how it grows,
he’s telling lies.
This tale arose
to caution those
whose porkies pose
a future full
of direst woes.
So why the nose
and not the toes?
The story tells
us how it goes:
Each whopper shows
upon the nose
for all to see;
the whole world knows.
When Nobody is Watching by Celia Berrell
Leave a commentWhen Nobody is Watching
There’s lots of things that you can do
when nobody is watching you.
Play with your food then wipe your hands
all down your front and on your pants.
Or pick your nose, or sniff with glee.
There’s no-one there to see you – see?
Scratch your penknife on the chair
and carve your own initials there.
Pull a thread-long from your clothes
then tie it round your tongue and nose.
Doodle where you shouldn’t scrawl
or stick your gum against the wall.
Bite your nails or suck your thumb …
but look-out for a Peeping Tom!
My Country
Leave a commentToday is a tribute to Dorothea Mackellar.
“On the 24th November, 2017, the Society of Women Writers of NSW, along with donors to the memorial, will gather in Waverley Cemetery at 6pm to ‘unveil’ the substantial marble plaque. This honours the poet, Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968) with the 8 lines of her most famous stanza from her poem My Country, there for all to see in perpetuity. Her gravesite is close by the ’jewel sea’ of the Pacific Ocean she so lovingly describes”
My Country – Poem by Dorothea Mackellar
The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies
I know, but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror
The wide brown land for me!
The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.
Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.
Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze …
An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
though Earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly
From Fish to Dish by Monty Edwards
Leave a commentWhen you eat a seafood dish,
In it there may be some fish,
These fish must have left their schools,
Since they failed to learn school rules:
Rule One
“If you see a baited hook
Do not take a second look.
Even if the bait looks yummy,
It will never reach your tummy.
You will, on the other hand,
Reach a tummy on the land.”
Rule Two
“Do not swim into a net:
That’s as far as you will get,
You’ll be hauled up to the air
And you’ll wish you were not there.
Frozen first, then fried or grilled,
Soon a stomach you’ll have filled.”
Monty Edwards
Australian Children’s Poetry 