The Auskicker (for Linclon)
Coloured bands around your wrist
Show you where to run.
Jerseys, boots and footy socks
Show the team you’re one.
Handball to your team mate,
Kick it if you can.
Try to get it through the gap
To the forward man.
And…
He takes a solid mark,
With the goal posts near!
Clap and cheer and pat his back
As the ball sails clear!
A goal, a goal!
A job well done!
The team all gather round
To celebrate his first goal kicked
And his joy in footy found!
Handball Queen
Amber Green. Handball Queen.
Quickest hands you’ve ever seen.
Recess time you’ll find her there,
prowling round the handball square.
Who will play her? Who will dare?
Daniel Drover. Year 4. Brave.
Odds unlikely. Chances grave.
Green strikes forehand, like a cobra.
Dipping shot bamboozles Drover.
Ricochet. Green wins. Game over.
Amber Green. Handball Queen.
Undefeated. Best there’s been.
Recess time she’s waiting there,
ruler of the handball square.
Who can beat her? Who will dare?
Matthew Lockett. Year 6. Bruiser.
Playground bully. Put-down user.
Green serves fast. A forehand rocket.
Lunging left he dives to block it.
Nose hits concrete. Goodbye Lockett.
Amber Green. Handball Queen.
Reigning champion. Win machine.
master of the handball square.
Who will face her? Who will dare?
Daisy Nguyen. Year 5. Plucky.
Daring. Fearless. Feeling lucky.
Green serves high and leaps to dunk it.
Nguyen pounces. Back hand. Sunk it.
Ball still bouncing. Green could flunk it.
Arm outstretched. A top-spin pass. Was it in?
There’s the siren. Back to class…
Daisy Nguyen. Lean and mean.
Undisputed Handball Queen.
After lunch you’ll find her there,
prowling round the handball square.
Who will verse her? Who will dare?
Chris Owen 2018
Bash and Flash
I’ve got a see-through bouncy ball
with little lights inside its core.
So when I bounce it on the ground
those lights all flash and spin around.
I think it’s got a battery
to give those lights some energy.
Then when it’s hit, it’s like a switch
that turns those lights on in a twitch.
They don’t stay on for very long
but every bounce will switch them on.
Unless the battery goes flat …
but my ball hasn’t got to that.
I want to see my ball in flight
and watch those pretty flashing lights
so bounce it hard, with all my might
upon the concrete drive at night.
My energy from that strong throw
means, at the point I let it go,
it’s got kinetic energy
that’s greater than just gravity.
And when my ball has hit the ground
some energy converts to sound.
Like rapping once upon a drum
it makes a bang and short soft hum.
I watched those lights flash as it zoomed
towards the starry sky and moon.
So do you think I set it free
to fly off for eternity?
Or will it soon return to me
attracted by Earth’s gravity?
The lights stopped flashing. All was black.
I didn’t see it coming back …
Until it hit me on the chin
then all those lights went flash and spin.
But while I held my jaw in pain
those pesky lights went out again!
I couldn’t find my flash new ball.
It must have travelled on a roll.
I’ll have to wait until it’s day
to find it so that we can play.
Butterfingers
I catch the bus,
I catch the train.
At times I even catch a plane.
I catch a cold,
I catch the flu.
I catch what normal people do.
So, why, I ask you,
one and all –
why can’t I catch a stupid ball?
YARD CRICKET
On pleasant summer afternoons,
My dad and I play cricket.
The dog he loves to chase the ball,
So he’s behind the wicket.
Our yard is small,
And so the ball
Is not hit very far.
But if we hit a window,
We cop a blast from ma.
I hit a whopping six some days.
That’s when it goes next door.
And if the neighbour gets upset,
We take that off the score.
When dad is batting I get scared.
I wish my gloves were leather.
He hits them fast, and most get past,
As I clap my hands together
Question
Would you like
to say Hi
to a beetle?
A beetle would
like to say Hi
to you. . .
by Katherine Gallagher
A Bite in the Night
My pillow’s soft beneath my head;
My light is out; I’m snug I bed.
I’ve said goodnight to Dad and Mum,
Expecting soon that sleep will come,
But . . .
What’s this I hear, so near my ear?
A buzz? A whine? Oh no! Oh dear!
I know that sound. It’s one I dread:
A lone mosquito overhead!
So . . .
Lying still, I free my hand;
I’m waiting for the pest to land.
The drone will stop, then “0uch”, the bite!
I whack my cheek with all my might!
Then . . .
All is quiet now, I can rest:
One good whack has killed the pest.
Though my cheek is feeling sore,
That mosquito bites no more!
ANTS
I was eating supper very late,
And chanced to look upon my plate,
A little black ant standing there,
Just about to share my fare.
I said to him “now listen mate,
I want you quickly off my plate”.
To ants one should not be so bold,
He’s brought back friends a hundred-fold.
Australian Children’s Poetry 