Author Archives: australianchildrenspoetry

Poem of the Day

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Trying Times

by Pat Simmons

 

Please tidy your room Tim,

I’ve asked you ten times.

Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow

I’m solving some crimes?

 

I’m tired of asking,

Now do as I say.

Two seconds Mum, promise,

I’m still on e-bay.

 

That’s it Tim, I’ve had it,

I’m coming to look!

Give me a minute Mum

I’m on Facebook.

 

I’m tired of texting you,

Open this door.

Now I’m doing my homework

Mum, don’t be a bore.

 

I’m coming in Timmy,

I’ve had quite enough.

I’m opening the door Tim,

I’m tired of your guff.

 

Good grief, your room’s tidy.

And Tim, you’re not here.

No I’m texting from Tom’s place.

Ha ha mother dear!

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

Poem of the Day

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Driftwood

By Sioban Timmer

 

He walks the beach

Collecting driftwood

Calm carries on the sea air,

Hunks of timber now distressed.

Turned by the lathing waves of the salted expanse

 

How enduring they are,

So far from their green beginnings

He inhales and smiles

As the breath escapes he muses

I guess we have a lot in common

 

He will take them in

Find new life in their random forms

They are a seaside distraction

A salty breeze on city days in his urban garden

Serenity obtained in a memory of beachcombing

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Prompt4Sioban says: I like how this poem has a sense of textures – wood, sand, water and the effect that they have on each other.

A Good Square Meal by Kate O’Neil

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Animal Feed Available at Restaurant
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Please note our special of the day:
(eat it here – or take-away)

Rye-grass  pellets dipped in swill
lightly fried or from the grill

Perhaps your choice is a la carte:
hay or lucerne, pie or tart.

Bonemeal biscuits served with slops
(fewer calories than chops)

Seasonal silage steamed or fried
sautéed birdseed on the side.

And should you feel inclined to quaff
please place your order at the trough

 

Poem of the Day

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Sadness

By Patrick Dower

 

In between the happy times, I sometimes have sad days.

My tear ducts sweat and my stomach turns. My silver lining fades to grey.

 

My sister – she throws tantrums. My brother – he slams doors.

The one time I saw Mummy cry, she slinked slowly to the floor.

 

There are some solemn days when people are sad with you.

Like when I lost my grandma, my grandpa lost her too.

 

I’m sure the house gets lonely when we’re all asleep.

And on some nights, when the scene’s just right, the neighbour’s puppy weeps.

 

I know my Dad gets sad sometimes. In fact, he’s sad a lot.

But no matter how glum he seems to be, Daddy says he’s not.

 

Sometimes he’s blue but peaceful. Some days he’s mad and red.

On other days he’s so far down he can’t get out of bed.

 

But I know he’ll get better. Mum thinks he will too.

She tells me, “Love, he’ll make it out as long as he has you”.

 

Soon he will be happy, but, until that time,

I’ll just be glad that his imperfect life is one with mine.

 

Sadness finds us, day or night, to remind us all to give.

It lets us know that our happy lives are better shared than lived.

 

Patrick says: I used this as the stimulus for a Social and Emotional Learning discussion with my Year 5s late last year. It was inspired by several conversations I have had with students about mental health – particularly the differences and similarities between emotions and illness.

 

Red and Black by Debra Tidball

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Poem of the Day

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Words

by Dianne Bates

Some have shaky edges
Twisting and flapping like netted fish
And the tongue is tied.

Sometimes the mouth opens and closes
like a trap.

But the best words —
The easiest words —
are bridges:

‘Be my friend,’
‘Come and play.’

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

Prompt3

Dianne says: To get to this poem, I brain-stormed a variety of shapes (geometric shapes, the shape of thoughts and so on) until I arrived at words. In the end I didn’t even use the word ‘shape’; it simply acted as a starting point.

Fan by Nadine Cranenburgh

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fan

Poem of the Day

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Magic making

by Jenny Erlanger

 

Half a slug, a beetle’s bum,

a spoon of slime, a cup of scum,

a centipede, a rotten plum,

my special, magic tea.

 

A final pinch of possum poo

and that completes my witch’s brew

but as to what this brew will do…

Here, try some and we’ll see.

 

Poem of the Day

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Beach cones

by Monty Edwards

 

The shapes I like are conical. They taper to the tip.

Perhaps you’ve seen some shells like that when going for a dip.

Such shells are very pretty and they’re great fun to collect:

Their range of colours, streaks and spots – much more than you’d expect!

 

While at the beach you may well see a different kind of cone:

Far bigger, in a lifeguard’s hand, it’s called a megaphone.

Through this his booming voice is heard to call us back to shore.

It’s warning us of danger we’d be foolish to ignore.

 

When heading home, our swimming done, one final cone I eat.

I’m sure you’ve guessed just what it is, so icy cold and sweet!

Then as I lick the one I pick, my tongue can taste and test.

Of all the cones I’ve ever known, I like an ice-cream best!

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

Prompt3

Monty says: With no clear direction, I made a list of shapes, along with articles that either embodied them or words that rhymed with them. I wanted to avoid the familiar square/cube and circle/sphere and work with something specific that was less common and also three dimensional. From my list of words and ideas the resources for a seaside scenario emerged featuring the cone.

 

Poem of the Day

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Family tree

by Bill Condon

 

The mother was a ghost gum,

a really terrific tree-mum.

The father was a noble oak,

a shining prince of tree-dom.

You’d think with a family tree like that,

the offshoot would have to be a winner.

Instead he was a toothpick,

who lived in fear of dinner.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

 

Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.