I’d soon be walking through that door,
I’d waited all those years.
But nothing had prepared me for
that sudden flood of tears.
As one who loves to seize the day,
who takes whatever comes,
I couldn’t wait to get away
from all those weeping mums.
Author Archives: ozchildrenspoetry
Dark Matter Day by Celia Berrell
Leave a commentMost of our universe
seems to be …
MISSING! NOT THERE
for us to see.
We call this DARK MATTER
because we agree,
although we can’t see it,
we’ve shown, quite clearly,
this stuff interacts with
GRAVITY.
Remember October
will end with this quest
as Halloween
is one of our best
spooky and scary festivities
for magic and mayhem
and mysteries.
And so, it’s become
the perfect way
to celebrate science’s
DARK MATTER DAY!
In response to Prompt #6: Celebrations.
For more about dark matter visit https://www.interactions.org/dark-matter-day
Two Pink Galahs by Jeanie Axton
Leave a commentTwo old pink galahs
up high in a gumtree
looked down at recess
to see what they could see.
Two junior school boys
glanced up and said “Gidday”
then the two old galahs
spread their wings and flew away.
Be It On Your Head by James Aitchison
Leave a commentWhat’s that bird
doing on my head?
Why doesn’t it
fly away instead?
It’s not fair
being a statue,
because I know
what birds like to do!
James’ poem was inspired by the image below which was taken in Venice
Chinzy and Arthur by Toni Newell
Leave a commentChintzy looked at Archer
Lying on the couch
He looked up and she said
You’re nothing but a slouch!
No I’m not, he replied
A puppy needs its sleep
Chintzy, she just sighed
Your excuses you can keep
Another hour passed
And Archer still lay there
Chintzy she was seething
And thought it was unfair
He was asleep in her spot
Where she should now be
But there wasn’t any room
For her to spread out and be free
She listened to him snoring
And decided just to leap
To snuggle in beside him
So she herself could sleep.
There they lay together
Each in their world of dreams
Sharing the space together
Cats and dogs can be friends it seems.
If This House Could Speak by James Aitchison
Leave a commentImagine living here
with all those stairs to climb,
and every room you enter
takes you back in time.
Everywhere you wander,
every corner you explore,
could there be a ghost or two
behind a secret door?
Teacher’s note: Martindale Hall, Mintaro, South Australia, famously appeared in the movie Picnic at Hanging Rock. Completed in 1880 with 32 rooms, and once the home of the Mortlock family, this Georgian mansion is now open to the public six days a week.
Devonshire Tea by James Aitchison
Leave a commentI went to Devon
in a dream,
and there I ate
scones, jam and cream.
I put the cream on,
then the jam,
and someone said,
“That’s wrong, young man!
The jam goes first,
the cream is next.”
I was getting
very vexed.
So what do you do?
Which comes first?
The jam? The cream —
or reversed?
Body Parts (a rhyming slang poem) by Graham Seal
Leave a commentWhat if ‘mince pies’ were your eyes?
‘Barrier reef’ your ‘teef’?
If ‘Onkaparingas’ were your fingers,
or ‘plates of meat’ your feet?
‘Ginger beers’ might be your ears,
a ‘loaf of bread’ your head.
What if your hips were ‘battleships’
and ‘wooden pegs’ your legs?
Well, then all your body parts would rhyme,
though you mightn’t even know it,
and whenever you did anything
you’d be a rhyming poet.
NOTE: rhyming slang is a form of folk word play in which all sorts of things are
given usually whimsical rhymes.
number fun by Marcus Ten Low
Leave a commentsplotch of my feet,
splotch one by one,
two eyes watching,
me and you.
three monkeys laughing
with such glee.
four walls standing,
slamming their doors.
five fingers, like worms,
keeping alive.
six matchsticks,
like a bag of tricks.
seven devils singing,
to make it back to heaven.
eight fat people,
food is so great!
nine lies twisted
in my mind, ready
to explode, like a mine.
ten things listed,
where what when…
How Now Brown Cow? by James Aitchison
Leave a commentEveryone asks me
the same old question,
and it interferes
with my digestion.
How do I look
down in the mud?
The dam’s so cold
I can’t chew my cud.
So if you ask me
how I am now,
I’m a very grubby
hungry cow.
Australian Children’s Poetry 