The Possums of Pittwater

The possums are holding a ball on the roof

the noise they are making is positive proof.

They are dancing the samba (ole and caramba!)

the one-step, the two-step,

the waltz and the you-step,

the quick step, the trick -step,

tarantella and tango,

and just for a lark, the gum-tree fandango

(But never the fox-trot. No. Certainly not.)

Line-dancing or ballet, it’s nothing to them

– a possum’s jete is really a gem.

But sometimes I wish, in the midst of their romp

(boogie, mazurka, rock-and-roll, saltbush stomp)

they’d put their boots back in a neat cardboard box

and dance for a while in their sneakers and socks,

©Anne Bell

First published the NSW Department of Education School Magazine

Before you read today’s poem, here’s a change of website address if you want to purchase your copy of Let in the Stars (reviewed in yesterday’s post): it’s www.mcbf.org.uk/books

Pearl

Pearl was a girl

A pearly girl

But not a girly girl

Not a softly softly

Sssssshhhhhh girl

Not a tiptoe

Through the tulips girl

Pearl was a girl

A pearly girl

But not a girly girl

Not a frills and frippery

Flowery girl

Not a powder puff

Perfume pom pom girl

Pearl was a girl

A pearly girl

But not a girly girl

Not a dainty delicate

Dew drop girl

Not a lavender lacy

Look at me me me girl

But a pearl. A pearl of a girl.

© Jane Williams

THE LIBRARY DOOR

The door to the library is a wardrobe door

Opening to Narnia, magic and more.

To Wonderland with Alice, open the gate,

Skip through the Looking Glass – adventures wait.

Thrill to the Hobbit and the wondrous Ring,

Be there to watch the Return of the King.

With Toad of Toad Hall, Ratty and Mole,

Explore green River Banks – a waterside stroll.

The terror of Earthsea, its dragons and wizard,

A shadow-beast, evil, with dangerous vizard.

In the Midnight Garden, when the clock in the hall

Strikes thirteen, a ghost will call.

Behind wood panelling and under your feet

Is the home of the Borrowers whom you’ll meet.

The door to the library is a wardrobe door

Opening to Hogwarts, Harry and more.

by Edel Wignell

The Australian Society of Authors ©

First published in The Dragoner, No. 2, 2006, Newsletter of the Dromkeen Dragons,

Victoria, Australia

Princess Shoes

“Did you buy my princess shoes?” asks Molly

Every day she wants to know

Since she saw them sparkle

from jewelled heel to toe

And every day, Father answers, “No.”

“Did you pull some weeds?” asks Father

“Did you sing to Baby Lance?”

Every day he asks her,

“Did you learn your Irish dance?”

And every day, Molly says she hasn’t had the chance.

“Did you buy my princess shoes?”  asks Molly as before. ”

I pulled some weeds and sang to Lance

Dame Flora’s teaching me the dance…”

She demonstrates her moves

And Father says, “I do believe…

I might have bought

some princess shoes.”

© Sally Odgers

Butcher Bird in Drought Time

Three notes he sang,

three lonely limpid notes

to the arid sky;

green as hope they were,

clear  as mountain air

and sweet as water falling.

Keep them as a sign

that he will sing again

in other springs

as green as hope,

as clear as mountain air

and sweet as water falling.
© Anne Bell

First published NSW Department of Education School magazine

Born to be a Ratter

I was born to be a ratter

I’m a squabble and a scrapper

And the cats are never fatter

When I hassle them about

I’m a snapper and a spatter

While you’re saying, “What’s the matter?”

While I clitter and I clatter

And I yappet in and out

I was born to be a rouser

And a scrapper and carouser

As a cat’s a wishful mouser

So the hunt is in my head

I’m a scrabble what’s-about-a

I’m a bouncer and a scouter

Of your rules I am a flouter

‘Cos you made me pet instead.

© Sally Odgers

The Koala and the Crocodile

Ko-Ko Koala was a spoilt little brat.

He wouldn’t eat vegies in case he got fat.

‘Brussel sprouts and cabbage belong in the bin,

Lemonade and fudge keeps me nice and thin.’

‘Sad,’ said his friends in tones of sorrow.

‘Our little Koala will end up rather hollow.’

‘Hardly,’ snorted Ko Ko, in tones very rude,

‘Where-ever I roam I eat take-away food.’

‘Chicken and chips and hamburgers fried,

And chocolate donuts with cream inside

Taste much better for a Koala about town

Bush food is stodgy,’ he said with a frown.

His friends all got very very cross,

Bush food is filling but isn’t very posh.

Then along came a crocodile

Jaws wide open in a hungry smile.

The little Koala was suddenly left,

Nobody liked the company he kept.

Ko Ko ordered it to go far away,

But the crocodile was there to stay.

‘Bags of chips and popcorn for tea,

Plenty to eat if you dine with me.

If only you would climb down nearer,

Our friendship could be so much dearer.’

Ko Ko settled up the tree to wait,

He wouldn’t fall for such tempting bait.

The days went by, he got thin and wan,

Dreaming of take away meals long gone.

Ko Ko Koala stayed high off the ground,

Ate lots of gum leaves and grew very round.

The crocodile waited his eyes full of greed,

And renewed his invite to come and feed.

‘I’ve cheese and onion on hamburgers fried,

I promise they’ll keep you well satisfied.

There’s pineapple on pav with cream between,

And ice creams with flavours you’ve never seen.’

‘A diet of ice cream and potato chips fried,

Will give me tummy ache,’ our Ko Ko replied.

The crocodile sighed and lost his smile,

And decided to slink off home for a while.

And this is why the crocodile’s tears of grief

Are at the Koala’s love for the Eucalytus leaf.

And for take away food Ko Ko will never roam.

He finds plenty to eat in his tree top home.

© Margaret Pearce,

The Scary Boy

Professor Pamela McGurk

was famed for Scientific Work.

It was she who proved beyond a doubt,

false teeth look better in, than out.

She also used her science skills

to prove that ducks, don’t pay their bills.

As well she made a baked bean car . . .

with the help of wind, it travelled far.

But the thing that gave her greatest joy

was a machine she called, The Scary Boy.

It was shiny and silver and covered in spots.

It was built entirely of pans and pots.

It had eyes and a nose and a mouth and hands,

and a motor that ran, on old rubber bands.

It was tall and purry and furry and fat.

It had ears that flapped, like the wings of a bat.

It had buttons and switches and gadgets and plugs –

and the floor was a carpet – of Ladybird Bugs.

It was big, it was bold, it was brash, it was new.

And the whole world wondered, ‘What does it do?’

She flicked it on and what did it do?

Nothing at all, except go . . .

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

© Bill Condon

The Giant Hat

Wacko Jack from Ballarat

Built the most enormous hat,

Made of canvas with a great big brim,

Three storeys tall with a velvet trim.

Some dogs howled, while babies cried

When they saw Jack’s hat he wore with pride,

Old ladies gulped while others grinned,

Until one day a howling wind

Saw Jack take off, up he went,

Sailing high like a flying tent,

He yelled out loud with a face so grim,

“Next time I’ll make a smaller brim.”

That same night when it was late,

A UFO spotted above Bass Straight,

But it was only Jack still holding on

To the flying hat that’d gone so wrong.

© John Williams