Oh what a lovely swamp —
I can hear things going ker-plomp!
And even though it’s blue on top,
underneath it’s slop-slop-slop.
Birds swoop low, fish dive deep,
crocodiles open their eyes for a peek.
The trees haven’t seen their roots for years
and nothing is really what it appears.
It’s all very murky and muddy in there,
and who knows what will come up for air?
Undara, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
If I were a koala,
how happy I would be.
I’d have one branch for dinner,
and another one for tea.
There’d be no washing up,
and nothing else to do:
so I’d curl up nice and high,
and sleep an hour or two.
Photo from Pexels by Flip Side
Tiny Dreamtime children, imprisoned in the earth,
pierce the little tree roots to sip sap beneath the dirt.
For seven years, cicada grubs, as they scratch and dig,
keep getting so much bigger, keep popping off their skin.
One final time, they’re out – up a fence, up a trunk, up a shed.
I collect the shells they’ve left, when their lead-light wings have spread
“Buzz buzz buzz,” they brush past my nose.
All-day the raucous chorus is a non-stop drone.
Above my ringing ears on twigs and sticks and leaves
a thousand bodies cling and rain their yellow wee on me.
Every year they deafen us. The noise is really bad –
crying for their mothers, screaming for their dads.
But, this year there are – none.
I’m surprised that I feel sad.
Where have the mad things gone?
Yellow Mondays, Green Grocers,
Black Princes, Cherry Noses
Much as they annoy me,
I hope that they’ll be back.
Without the story’s children,
so noisy, rude, and fun,
the hush of their absence
says that summer hasn’t come.
*Cicada Dreaming was told to Roland Robinson in 1965 by Julia Charles of the Yoocum Yoocum clans from the area around Wollumbin in the headwaters of the Tweed River, Northern NSW, Australia, and is used with permission.
Photo from Pexels by Ali Soheill
It was hiding in the bush,
where only eagles soar;
it was hiding in the bush,
but I could hear its distant roar.
At first I saw a stream,
it looked nothing much at all,
then farther on I walked
and found the waterfall:
plunging over lava
the massive torrent fell,
tumbling to a chasm,
it held me in its spell.
And that was when I wondered
where else could I go,
and discover more surprises
than I could ever know!
Big Millstream Falls, Australia’s widest single drop waterfall, 5 km from Ravenshoe, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
railcars
silvery sleek
rattling, clicking, clacking
my very special adventure
outback
The Savannahlander train crossing a creek, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Teacher’s note: A cinquain is an unrhymed five-line poem that has a 2-4-6-8-2 syllable count.
Line 1: a one-word noun (the subject of the poem)
Line 2: two adjectives that describe Line 1
Line 3: a three-word verbal phrase that further describes Line 1
Line 4: a four-word phrase that shows a feeling toward Line 1
Line: a one-word noun synonymous with or related to Line 1
Writing cinquains is great fun for students.
(Note: “special” is a two-syllable word!)
is written
on the calendar.
but then I walk
past my daughter’s
old school,
knees clicking.
poking its head
out of the soil
is a paper daisy, saying,
spring,
spring has sprung.
Photo from Pexels by Stuart Robinson
Foraging through undergrowth,
the Superb Fairy Wren
jauntily hops and bounces
velvety blue plumage; black-masked;
yellow petals collected
for its grey-brown mate.
Daintily, it dances
from earth to bough to leaf;
the garden its stage.
Flash of blue; flicker of brown;
bringer of joy
straight to the heart.
Photo from Pexels by Walter Coppola
Is saving our Earth a great idea?
Then we must make stop those blinded with greed,
using fossil fuels till they disappear.
Is saving our Earth a great idea?
Good ecologists, our future should steer––
we need a world with clean air, water, feed.
Is saving our Earth a great idea?
Then we must make stop those blinded with greed.
Photo from Pexels by Anna Shvets
(In honour of National Bathtub Day October 7th)
Let’s have a scrub
in the tub
On National Bathtub Day
Let’s get all wet
up to the neck
On National Bathtub Day
Let’s bring out the bubbles
now there’s trouble
On National Bathtub Day
Let’s use the soap
on a rope
On National Bathtub Day
Let’s wash the puppy
whose looking scruffy
On National Bathtub Day
Let’s clean up well
leave a pleasant smell
On National Bathtub Day
Its rather obscure
And a little peculiar
This National Bathtub Day.
Photo from Pexels by nishizuka
(In Honour of National Bathtub Day October 7th)
In days of old,
out in the cold,
this is where you’d wash.
Rub-a-dub-dub,
in a public tub,
oh my golly gosh!
Hop right in,
up to your chin,
give your skin a sheen.
And let’s all hope
there’s enough soap
so everyone is clean.
Think of the queue
following you,
eager to get in too.
So don’t delay —
scrub right away —
I’m the one after you!
Street bath, Europe. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Australian Children’s Poetry 