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

Dog life

They hurtle off towards the beach

to yap at gulls beyond their reach,

with noses raised to catch a whiff

of new, exciting things to sniff.

Their focus locked on sea and sand,

their thoughts deliciously unplanned,

these wet and shaggy kindred souls

are jumping waves and digging holes.

If only they could teach me how

to revel in the here and now,

to halt my thoughts before they stray

to all that lurks beyond today,

the back to school, the daily slog.

If only I’d been born a dog!

© Jenny Erlanger

       Doctor!

‘Doctor, doctor, doctor,

I feel awfully like a goat.’

The doctor said, ‘Let’s see,’

As he put on his coat.

He tapped my head and, startled,

Said, ‘Two horns are hid!

How long have they been there?’

‘Since I was a kid.’

(Illus. Doctor peering at small horns among the hair on the head.)

‘Doctor, doctor, doctor,

I feel dreadfully like a cat.’

‘Hop up on the chair

And we’ll have a little chat.’

‘I’m not allowed to climb

On table, chair or couch.’

‘I heard a “Mia-ow”, I’m sure!’

‘All I said was “Ouch!”‘

(Illus. Doctor pressing tongue down and peering at the throat.)

By Edel Wignell

© The Australian Society of Authors

Australia

An island continent down under too grand to just ignore,

A land of coastal water where sandy beaches line the shore,

Rugged range and dusty plain colliding with each other,

A land of inspiring contrast nature took its time to cover.

Green canopy of Kurrajong Tree provide jackaroos with their shade,

As they do battle with the outback where the stockmen’s legends made,

The cattle and the sheep will graze where the soil meets their needs,

But crippling droughts can catch them out as farmers plant their seeds.

Orchardists with their crops of fruit look skyward for a drink,

While sugar-cane on coastal plain provides our sweetest link,

Golden corn and ears of wheat dance round in yellow field,

The farmer working dawn to dusk to reap his vital yield.

Fire and flood can cause such havoc; there’s a harshness in our land,

But strength of character carries us through and neighbours lend a hand,

Koalas eat their gum leaves, kangaroos shy from where they’ve been,

Kookaburras laugh their loudest as platypus dips into the stream.

Gallipoli and Anzacs create fervour in our mind,

These brave young hearts that gave their lives, too many left behind,

Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, Uluru and Barrier Reef,

All provide us with our identity, our icons and belief.

© John Williams

The Cleaner

Our past washed away,

Our history is being dismissed

My background is being wiped off

Their life, gone.

The past is bleeding across,

A clean and white new slate.

The strands that drip down

Show those who still remember.

They remember our history with pride not displeasure,

They remember even after it being wiped clean

They remember everything,

Their life without dictation.

© Jemma Gray

Note: This poem won the junior secondary division prize of the 2014 Dorothea McKellar national poetry award

A Letter to the bombers

By Frog Printz

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Laughter that trembles your ears

A blast we’re having, hoorah! Hoorah!

and fly for seventy years

Higher and higher we don’t know where

or when or if we’ll ever get there

a grand festival awaits our arrive

greater than any we’d known when alive

Music and dancing and clouds in the air

friends and girls with colourful hair

Our Father will greet us with a heavenly grin

proud that we served our life for Him

But then we land with an almighty thud

our bones aching and covered in mud

a familiar sound we raise our eyes up

a laughing Satan is clutching his gut

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Travelled so far but here you are

What joy, such fun, a grand parade!

Happy this devilish heart you’ve made

Tricked you were with great success

to do as I had fared

I tempted you in my prettiest dress

and brought you to my lair

None are the clouds, the dances and song

none are the friends and girls

now we see we’ve been fools all along

and sadness we’ve left in the world.

© Lloyd Riman

Old Mates

I have a rambunctious cairn terrier,

Who is an obsessive bone-burier,

He buried the cat,

But she boomeranged back,

He’s never seen anything scarier.

Big Baz has a bossy blue heeler,

Who trained Baz to fetch and to feed her,

He thinks it so beaut,

In the back of her ute,

He even rolls over to please her.

Wayne has a pernickety poodle,

Pink bows tied atop her pert noodle,

On four legs she prances,

On two legs she dances,

For dinner she eats apple strudel.

Trev has a gold Labrador-oh,

So fat yet he always wants more-oh,

He chewed up Trev’s couch,

Down to splinters – ouch! OUCH!

Then flopped himself right through the floor-oh.

Old Pat has a spotty Dalmatian,

Who, wanting to change his location,

Squeezed through the gate,

Found a cute little mate,

And had a most pleasant vacation.

Young Ron has a daft border collie,

Who thinks herding sheep most unjolly,

He acts like a clown,

Juggles balls up and down,

While rolling along on a trolley.

Wayne’s shed’s where we all meet on Fridays,

A beer and a barbie there always,

Makes the tails wag,

As we gobble a snag,

And yarn about life in the old days.

Glenys Eskdale

http://glenyseskdale.wordpress.com/

Waiting for a Feast

The seal is ready

To plunge and grip its prey;

Waits for a penguin to emerge,

But it dives deep

And escapes in the surge.

The spider squats

In a web – sticky and strong;

Waits patiently for a bee,

But it darts aside,

Zooms, and is free.

The python is poised,

Ready to loop its coils;

Waits for a grazing deer,

But it leaps away

In a dash of fear.

By Edel Wignell

© The Australian Society of Authors

Don’t Be Silly

Freddy told Matthew and Matthew told Pete.

“Did you know that cockroaches hear through their feet?”

Don’t be silly Matthew. You say such silly things.

Everybody knows that roaches hear through their wings.

Andrew told Percy and Percy told Mick.

“Beetles sell medicine to people who are sick.”

“Don’t be silly Andrew. How goofy can you be.

Everybody knows you can’t afford a beetle’s fee.”

Molly told Sally and Sally told Mabel.

“Old men sometimes leave their teeth on the table.”

Don’t be silly Molly. It really isn’t true.

Everybody knows they hold their teeth in with glue.

Stephen told Richard and Richard told Frank

“The teacher’s got a great white shark in a tank.”

Don’t be silly Stephen you really are a fool.

Everybody knows he keeps the shark in his pool.

Fred told Billy and Billy told Dan.

“My next door neighbour is really superman.”

Don’t be silly Freddy. You must have had a dream.

Everybody knows your next door neighbour’s Wolverine.

Mary told Margaret and Margaret told Flo.

“These words will make me famous I want you all to know.”

Don’t be silly Mary. Did you leave your brain at home?

Everybody knows that this is just a silly poem.

© Warren Cox   2013

My Nana’s Bag

My Nana’s arrival is an exciting sight

As she carries a bag packed extremely tight.

She carries her coat and 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 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.

Nanna stood us in line for more hugs and kisses

And we all said how much we loved 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 baby-sit us Saturday night.

© Margaret Pearce

P.O. Box 253,

Belgrave, 3160

Victoria

Email: mpearceau@gmail.com

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