blueberry bluetongue
green grass green
sunshine sunshine
polish me
glow me
sinuous slithering
not-snake-just-me
blueberry bluetongue
secrecy
Sally says: Written because I almost never write free verse. I was trying to rhyme and scan throughout.
There was once a well-mannered manatee,
who rarely indulged in profanity.
But when confronted with queues,
she blew every fuse
and swore with manic insanity.
by Dianne Bates
I’m sick of waiting for the bathroom
with Sister Susie taking her time
Preening herself while I’m busting to go —
that has to be a crime.
If Francis Drake had to wait in a bathroom queue
instead of setting sail on the sea,
he might not be known at all today
simply because of a pee.
Today I’m all excited ’cause we’re going to the zoo
And there’s something that we’ll see there that I’ll now describe to you.
Since it’s found throughout Australia you would hardly call it rare –
Live for long in any city and you’ll surely find one there.
Not so common in the country, but you still may see a few,
It’s no cuddly koala nor a bounding kangaroo.
Do not think of an echidna or a little bandicoot
This is something that you’ll never ever hear described as cute.
In appearance, on occasions, it’s been likened to a snake,
But it’s certainly not legless in the moves that it can make.
If you see a very large one, you will wish it wasn’t so,
Should it move along quite slowly, you may even see it grow!
You can rule out any reptile, bird or fish that comes to mind,
But I will not tease you further, that would really be unkind.
It’s a line. No, not a lion. There, I’ve given you a clue.
It’s a line of ticket buyers gaining entry through a queue!
Author comment: I found the array of spellings used to convey the final sound of “queue” quite remarkable and used several. Among them, the zoo provided a useful context for the poem, as aside from rhyming with the key word, the zoo is a familiar and positive experience for most children. Describing the queue as if an unnamed exhibit seemed a good way of arousing curiosity without compromising truth on the way to a surprise conclusion.
A queue of curious pelicans
A cue of queueious pelicans
The English language
Never ceases
To amaze
And amuse
Mother counted sixty four
swans and pelicans
on Lake Colac once
when I was a child
in the days
when the lake
was full
before
climate
change
hit.
Virginia says: I wrote this poem for exactly the reasons given in the poem. The memory, and amusement at ‘curious’ and ‘queue’.
Pelicans
by Bridh Hancock
I have often seen these fine big birds,
Above the waves or in the sky,
Lords of the shores and the upper air.
They certainly know their worth, they do,
These fishers who seek a beak-full of fish.
They don’t say much, as I can tell,
But fisher-folk know them very well
As exceedingly skilful and persistent.
Oh yes, they know their worth, alright,
These seekers of stealth with a fondness for fish.
We cannot see or hear them,
yet we know when each arrives.
We love them, hate or fear them
as we stumble through our lives.
They fire away like crazy
somewhere deep inside our brain.
They prod us when we’re lazy,
get us back on track again.
They don’t ask for permission
from the moment that we wake
to set out on their mission
to control the moves we make.
It may not live an hour
as its life is pretty short
but there’s no denying the power
of a solitary thought.
Jenny says: I have always been fascinated by the capacity of a seemingly immaterial thought to create physical or emotional responses in human beings.
Kudos to the queue – not cue
(for that’s a hint or hit for billiard ball)
Kudos to the queue – not coupe
(for that’s a shock surprise for city hall)
Kudos to the queue – not coo
(for that’s what doves and grannies tend to do)
Kudos to the queue – not Que
(For that’s a Tassie river … yes, it’s true!)
Kudos to the queue – you knew
This had to end and now the end is due
But kudos to the queue – a row
Of sailor’s hair or pelicans you know.
Must our poems rhyme
ALL the time?
No. Not so.
Don’t you know
Some verse is free
Like a fish in the sea?
But personally, I prefer my fish
Served on a regular dish
(With chips).
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5
Author Comment: The poem is something of a joke at my own expense, since I find it difficult to break the rhyming habit, but sometimes the ideas in a poem refuse to yield to the constraints of rhyme. This is admitted by the final line of the poem.
These three short poems were submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5.
An arthritic arachnid with eight knobbly knees
Sought medical help for her painful disease.
Her doctor prescribed her with cream to rub in
But the problem was how and just where to begin!
By Nadine Cranenburgh
My old dog Spot
is hard to spot
when hiding in my bed
He’s found a spot
all soft and hot
curled underneath my head
{Nadine says: The aim was to include a word that has multiple meanings.}
Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
Eating his Christmas pie
He ate it all, every crumb.
‘What’s for seconds?’
he asked his mum.
Australian Children’s Poetry 