Bone tired
Mum bends over yawning suitcases;
sorts by colour
the jumble
of sea-scented clothes.
The groaning washer
shudders in sympathy
as tiny souvenir shells
swim from sand-peppered pockets
to tinkle and swirl
in foreign
lemon-boosted foam.
You really want to know about me?
I’m not too ordinary for you?
I mean, I’m everywhere.
Even in Scrabble, my tiles are worth one, not two!
I like to keep slim, like my friends I.
E & F, and L, too,
Though they all look a bit unbalanced to me.
My horizontal hat is beautifully symmetrical.
You have noticed, haven’t you?
Being the 20th letter and so towards the end of the alphabet
means nothing!
I am the most frequently used letter
after those vowels, a, e, I and u.
And I’m not fussy about where I go inside a word,
Beginning, middle or end, doubled, to name just a few.
I’m a bit of a softy,
or at least the sound I represent is.
Toddlers can speak it by the age of two,
A gentle tap of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, behind the front teeth,
But don’t use your voice, you’ll get my cousin D’s sound if you do!
Do other letters want to hang about with me?
Yes, there are a few.
There are the vowels, and also some consonants
H is probably my best friend, because when he’s beside me to the left
We do this weird thing with G, you know, eight, night, and tight.
But when you put him to my right, we represent another sound, no, two.
Listen: TH: with voice we make they, their, there, they’re, and those.
Now listen again, TH: without voice we make thick, thin, thunder, through
Sufficient information, you say!
That’s fine. I know I’m a bit talkative.
But how many words within this little poem am I, your humble servant T, not in!
Count, I dare you to!
Vivienne says: I love poetry and am particularly concerned that we can get kids interested both in reading it, and then, later, writing it.
I also have an interest in English orthography: boring to many others, but not me. Hence my contribution.
Straight trunk
Typical tree
Outstretched arms
Thick canopy
Leaves trap the sun
brilliant green
Dark brown trunk
A child’s drawing
Burnished silver
Polished gum
Dead, but shining
in the morning sun
Froth of regrowth
at its roots
Towers a silver
toasting fork
Branches curve tortuous
weaving and gliding
starting way up
the tall straight trunk
the architecture
fully exposed.
Architecture exposed,
even living.
Dull eucalypt green
Narrow leaves
loosely bunched
hang down to escape
the sun’s rays
Trunk bright pink-gold
Burnished by
morning sun
Huge animals
that hopped
Egg-laying mammals
with duck bills
The first Europeans
couldn’t believe
their own eyes
Painted what
they longed to see
Dark trunk
outstretched branches
thick canopy
typical (Northern) tree
starting with T.
Virginia says: I spent the first weeks of January in the mountains, Falls Creek (about 40 friends took over a ski lodge). Falls Creek was in the middle of a bushfire about 12 years ago, and is surrounded by bleached white dead trees – sad, but beautiful – and regrowing. I had several phrases in my mind, and the letter T sparked off contemplation about the comparison between Northern and Southern Hemisphere trees, and reactions to them. It is my usual blank verse, short lines, with some half rhymes thrown in.
Get outside and play you kids,
my mother said one day,
go climb a tree, or fly a kite,
just get outside and play.
But the tree is small,
the kite is broke,
it’s been raining here all day.
We have to stay inside today,
it’s far too wet to play.
We’ll have a look, the oldest said,
and find a middle ground.
We’ll channel surf the TV now
and see what can be found.
A show on rocks and mountain tops,
fresh air, and stuff like that
and here is one of flies in flight
and how to clip a cat.
Us younger ones are crying out
how boring are all those!
The oldest one just winks at Mum
and gets out raincoat clothes.
Myra says: Thinking about kids on school holidays and Mum wanting some peace and quiet. My sister was 10 years older than me and wise beyond her years.
EYESORE-OSAURS
By Bill Condon
I’ve studied all the dinosaurs
That history’s unravelled,
And found a few new species
On the many roads I’ve travelled.
There’s the arrogant Ignore-osaur
That walks with head on high.
It does not even deign to look
As it trundles by.
The Badbreath-osaur has germs galore
And needs to brush its teeth.
The Crook-osaur is, for sure,
A crafty little thief.
The Bore-osaur is tedious,
The Brag-osaur’s a pain.
If nothing else, Umbrella-saurs,
Are handy in the rain.
I quite admire the Stutter-saur
It tries with all its might,
To master elocution,
But it never gets it right.
My favourite though,
I have to say, is bits of this and that.
Part brontosaur, part stegosaur,
Part giant pussycat.
I call it Jigsaw-osaur,
Its wonder never ceases.
I have a skeleton of one,
Though I’m missing vital pieces …
In my very big house
There’s a very small room
That’s just the right size for me
It’s under the stairs
It’s got pillows for chairs
And a torch so my teddies can see
There we read and we play
And tell stories all day
You see, we don’t need too much space
It’s all that I need
And I’m happy indeed
When I’ve crawled into my secret place.
T’s always starting Trouble as we very clearly see,
In Trains it must sit at the front, as selfish as can be,
Then when it comes to Taking Turns, of course it must be first,
As Time and Time again, in this, it really is the worst.
Its influence is very bad, of that there is no doubt,
For when there’s work for it to do we find it backing ouT.
A man named Ben was joined by T and instantly was BenT,
So gained a reputation that was never his intent!
Now people sometimes tell you, you should “mind your Ps and Qs”,
But when it comes to letters there’s another that I’d choose.
Its awfully bad behaviour’s bound to lead you into error,
So I’d advise: “Beware of T!” It truly is a Terror.
Monty says: My basic idea for the poem was to work with the actual letter T: its position in words and how it could be taken from or added to words to change them into new words. Although I could find lots of examples, for me it proved difficult to shape these into any sort of coherent narrative that could be taken literally, and also had a consistent rhyming scheme (which was my goal). I nearly gave up, but I found giving the letter T a personality helped focus my effort and gave the poem unity.
Peakhurst
A wilderness of T-trees
In our paddock playground
One free day in the midst of childhood
A day filled with everything
We are wild things,
Charging, ducking, hiding,
Flies swamping our sweaty faces
A dove, startled, flies up and
Petals fall like a sprinkle of rain
As we play
A game of cowboys and Indians
With imaginary guns
Bang! Bang! You’re dead!
Falling to the ground face-up
Wisps of clouds slide above
As if breathing in and out.
Dianne says: The letter T reminded me of tea-tree bushes that as children my brother, sister and I played among. We didn’t get much time to play as we were forever working on the farm (pigs, goats and poultry).
Our feet make a crackling
crunching sound
as we walk.
We stop
and
crouching down,
discover another world.
A world of mini workers
caring for our environment.
Beetles breakfasting,
Meandering munching millipedes,
Snails, showing off their spirals,
Earthworms turning the soil.
Lives under leaf litter
A secret space.
Pat says: Ever since I was a child I’ve loved mini beasts (some would call them creepy crawlies). During my career in children’s services as a child care educator, teacher and trainer I delighted in sharing my passion with children by taking my ‘minibeast family’ to child care centres.As a writer, they still inspire me and, yes, I still have a collection of critters including stick insects and rain forest snails.
Australian Children’s Poetry 