Have you heard the story of Montague Shoe?
He fitted a left foot — ’twas all he could do.
But the shoe that fitted the right foot was lost,
So into the trashcan poor Monty was tossed.
But there in the trash Montague found
A shoe for a right foot — ’twas perfectly sound.
They became a new pair, one black and one blue,
And that was the story of Montague Shoe.
I strolled in the woods,
Wearing a red hood.
Looking cool in the neighbourhood.
I knock, knocked at Granny’s door.
I heard a terrible snore.
Just like a dinosaur roar.
Poor granny lay dead still.
Given a sleeping pill.
I’m no dill.
My eyes could see
You were dressed to trick me.
I pretended all was as it should be.
In the big four-poster bed you lay,
Hoping I would play.
But this was my day to make you pay.
All was not what it seemed.
Your sharp teeth gleamed.
Showing you for who you are was my dream.
A mean cold stare,
Laid you bare.
Come closer you dared.
I had to be brave
To save poor granny from the grave.
Coming your way was a shock wave.
I may be sweet and dressed in red
But you should be filled with dread.
That isn’t Granny in the sickbed.
I asked the secret code word of you
You looked blue
You had no clue.
Three letters please
Don’t be a tease.
I can see you freeze
Tell me now
Stop wrinkling your brow
On your nose ‘kapow!’
The code word is red.
Your face is red.
You run with dread.
Sharing is caring
Your red face is laid bare
For now there is no one you can scare.
Run river run:
sIlver over stones
riVer sobs and moans;
briEf gleam in the sun:
riveR run and run.
Run River run
rapId to the seas;
riVer leap with ease,
tEasing just for fun:
River run and run.
Why
“Why?” as a child is a popular word.
It shows that we want to know more of our world.
And sometimes we learn
some incredible things:
Like why the sky’s blue
and what is a gnu
and how you can catch
the measles and ‘flu.
And back in the past
how much harder life was
because of the things
that nobody knew.
It’s part of our nature to want to know why
despite that the answer’s a truth or a lie.
And sometimes we learn
some incredible myths:
Like why Santa comes
only once a year.
And when will the Easter
Bunny appear.
Descriptions of monsters
that cause us great fear.
And how crystal balls
make everything clear.
While we’re a child, all answers seem true
(until we get older and think them all through).
But even as adults we frequently find
it’s not always easy to change our mind!
Celia said: Got a question? Nowadays we can look for answers on the internet any time 24/7. But how can we tell if the information we find there is true or false? That’s another question!
I have a younger brother,
Who recently turned four.
He asks Mum many questions
And then he asks some more.
I tried to ask our mother
Why he kept asking “Why?”
The answer that she gave me
Was one enormous sigh.
She then breathed in quite deeply
And started to explain
How asking all those questions
Was strengthening his brain.
For as we all get older
And use our ears and eyes,
Our questions bring us answers:
The “Why?”s help make us wise.
Monty says: “The numerous question marks of the prompt made me think of the many questions asked by young children that may test a parent’s patience, but are an essential part of a child’s development.”
The dog went out in the sunshine
And soaked up all the rays
It looked up into the sky
And barked ” What a beautiful day”
The cat went out in the sunshine
And pranced around a bit
Turned around and went inside
In the window sill to sit
The dog stayed out in the sunshine
In circles chasing his tail
He was not going back inside
Sun rain or hail
The cat stayed in the window sill
Watching the world go by
Grinning at the silly dog
A scratch a lick a sigh
You are my sunshine
The player piano
gave me the words
there on the roll
My only sunshine
I pushed the pedals
and sang at the top
of my voice
You make me happy
And I was happy
there in the lounge room
with no sunshine at all
When skies are grey
skies might have been blue
or grey with rain
But the piano played for me
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Virginia said: I can’t hear the word without (mentally) singing the song, which I learned in childhood, just as the poem says.
Swaddle me in sunshine
sang the fairy child.
Weave me into forest,
tell me you have smiled.
Dance me tales of blossoms.
Look carefully for my signs.
Swaddle me in sunshine,
Now climb the magic vines.
Breathe me into spring time.
Search for the unseen.
Swaddle me in sunshine.
Cover trees in green
Swaddle me in sunshine,
when winter’s on her way.
Find for me some shelter
to keep the cold at bay.
June said: Today the muse visited – with that sunshine topic. Perhaps it was the approach of winter and a memory of my mum trying to convince me that fairies exist.
Tea for two, and a biscuit with Granny
giggles and games, I recall there were many
but clearest of all,
I recall the small music box.
Hidden inside, a tiny ballerina
waiting to dance there, in front of her mirror
at my beck and call
once I had unclipped the locks.
Lifting the lid, I would take a peak under
up she would pop, not so much as a blunder
though not very tall
she would stretch to the sky
pirouettes fashioned on blue satin lining
tutu pure white, in the limelight, there shining
I somehow recall
just for Granny and I
My Nanna’s arrival is a delight to see
But she’s only staying for afternoon tea.
She carries her coat and her umbrella furled
And the most exciting bag in the world.
She stands us in line for our hugs and kisses
And tells us how much she enjoys her visits.
After that she opens her bulging bag wide,
And out comes what she has packed inside.
First a chocolate cake for afternoon tea,
Liquorice and jelly beans for baby and me.
Then two jumpers, one blue and one pink,
One to wash and one to wear she says with a wink.
Out come some beads, a ball and two bats,
A doll and a pram and two calico cats.
Six pairs of crawlers made from old bedspreads,
And knitted striped beanies for everyone’s heads.
There’s a hammer and nails to mend the side fence,
Dad says now that’s a gift with plenty of sense.
Out comes a scooter and a skippy rope too,
And a most beautiful set of drums, brand new.
A bright crocheted rug to go on the bed,
Be lovely and warm, my mother said.
After the crayons, paints and a big picture book,
Nanna stopped delving so I had a good look.
Five peppermints and a half knitted sock remained
Nanna’s wonderful bag was empty and drained.
The grownups drank tea and ate most of the cake
Only smears and crumbs remained on that plate.
Nanna stood us in line for more hugs and kisses
And we all said how much we enjoyed her visits.
My Nanna took her coat and her umbrella furled,
And left with the emptiest bag in the world.
My Nanna’s departure was a very sad sight,
But she’ll be back to babysit Saturday night.
Australian Children’s Poetry 