Roo-minations by Jan Darling

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Now make yourselves comfy with cushions or couch…..
I have secrets to tell you about the pouch.
But try to sit straight, please do not slouch
‘cause that would turn me into a grouch.
Now let me find a good place to crouch,
Then truth I will tell you – for that I’ll vouch.

How many creatures, would you guess at or think
Have pouches in which their young can drink?
We’ll only count those in our country because
Their number is huge, even just here in Oz.
Kinds of marsupials who live here and thrive
Add up to one hundred and forty-five!

Most of their pouches will open at front
A few open backwards – how’s that for a stunt?
Do they slide into pouch down over the belly?
Or poised on the ground – jump into the valley?
One thing’s for certain, however they enter
From back or from front, they aim for the centre.

Why, then, do some pouches face towards tail?
…. to protect their young from rain and hail?
No! for food or shelter mum has to dig earth,
Which means all the soil would be aimed at the girth;
If her pouch were to open towards the trees
It would fill up with earth and joey would sneeze!

Now which of our friends their tummies will comb
To keep a neat front on a back-facing home?
Wombats and bilbies, Tassie devils and quolls,
Plus bandicoots, koalas and marsupial moles.
I think that I’ve named each motherly digger
If I’ve missed someone off – the list will be bigger.

Marsupials live widely, except in the sea,
Some live on the ground and some in a tree;
Your wombats will burrow  (they like to stay snug)
Where it’s better for snaffling a juicy bug.
The wee pygmy possum who lives above snow
High in the Alps, his family will grow.

Most of our roos live in desert and scrub
And only when grazing will they form a club.
They’re not very chummy or prone to join gangs
They keep to themselves and avoid boomerangs.
They don’t elect leaders to steer them through strife,
They don’t even bond with a regular wife.

Some say that this lack of common society
Is the cause of the roo’s constant sobriety.
Too hot to find food in the heat of the day,
They rest till it’s time to hunt and make hay.
At dusk they prepare to take the night air,
Then go out to find food, perchance to pair.

Do all the marsupials enjoy the same food?
That depends on the kind of marsupial brood!
Kangas, koalas and wombats eat plants,
Depending on what their locality grants.
Bandicoots and possums eat whatever’s in sight,
Meat, plant or insect – if they’re hungry, they’ll bite.

The Tasmanian Devil will eat only meat
He’s a cute little fellow but slow on his feet.
Thirteen k’s per hour is not very quick
But he gets enough food for his lips to lick.
Other marsupials eat insects and gnats
And try to avoid confrontations with cats.

Herbivores, omnivores, carnivores, too
Insectivores also you’ll find in the Zoo.
Marsupials too have a trick with their teeth
There’s no second set there in the gums, beneath –
This wonderful mammal keeps the first forever
To chew, chomp and nibble – that’s ever so clever.

From whence came they here?  Arriving which year?
We can only share with you what we can hear.
Word is that this species (and few are finer)
Came from afar – it’s thought to be China!
And the time they arrived will give you a shock
Fifty million in years, says Nature’s clock!

That long ago?  What was their route?
They came as they were, not one wore a suit!
They moved out from the East and arrived in the West,
Via the Americas, not wanting to rest;
Through the Antarctic snows they continued their quest
To the land of Australia, the place they love best.

Photo from Pexels by Suki Lee

Blabbermouth by Jenny Erlanger

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My parents bought a parrot
and I taught it how to speak.
I wish I’d also taught it
when to shut its noisy beak.

It told my little brother
I considered him a sook
and then informed my sister
that I’d scribbled on her book.

I thought it might have finished
but it still had more to say.
It told my dad I hadn’t
done the homework for the day.

It told my mum her perfume
had a most peculiar smell
then added that her hairstyle
didn’t suit her very well.

Our parrot’s clearly clever
and it’s been a breeze to teach.
It’s made amazing progress
since it’s learnt the art of speech.

But now I have a problem
that’s undoubtedly occurred
because of my confessions
to this brash, outspoken bird.

Photo from Pexels by Caio

Rushing River by James Aitchison

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Where are you going,

over those stones,

past those old cliffs,

the colour of bones.

Through ancient forests 

you tumble and twist,

until at long last

you are lost in the mist.

Photo by James Aitchison

Choose Kindness by Linda Davidson

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Let’s create a kinder world
One where love, doesn’t need to be earned.
Where smiling, helping, joy and laughter
Are things all of us chase after.

Offer to make Grandad a cup of tea.
He might be feeling quite lonely.
Your presence will bring love to his day
And improve his mood as he watches you play.

How about a smile for someone new?
You just don’t know what they’re going through.
Your kindness may fade their worries away,
And give them hope to enjoy their day.

What about picking your mum a flower?
To show her kindness has special power.
She’ll look at you with adoration in her eyes.
You’ll both be better off – you will realise.

It’s quite easy really to show compassion and be kind.
I believe it’s the way that we’ve been designed.
So have a go at finding a creative way,
To show someone kindness on your travels today.

Photo from Pexels by Lisa Fotios

Red Poppies by L. McCarthy

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Red poppies remind me of:
A painting by Vincent van Gogh,
A holiday postcard sent to me by a friend traveling near France,
A two dollar coin,
A warm sunny day in November.

Red poppies remind me of:
Stopping suddenly and being silent for one minute mid shop,
Then continuing on like nothing happened.

Red poppies remind me of:
Stories that I’ve heard of war,
Fighting that I never saw,
Soldiers’ names engraved in stone
In the centre of most towns I’ve known.

Red poppies grow
Where soldiers, long ago, stopped, suddenly;
Silent, forever.
Red poppies remind me of them.

Lest We Forget: The Red Poppy by James Aitchison

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The countryside had once been green,

No tree or hedge can now be seen,

Came the war,

The cannons’ roar,

The fields reduced to mud and blood,

The deep cold craters fill and flood,

And suddenly, a miracle:

Red poppies grew as though to say

We will find peace again one day.

Teacher’s note: By the time the First World War ended, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month 1918, a miracle had occurred.  In the devastated fields of Flanders, the scene of horrific carnage, red poppies bloomed again.  That is why the red poppy is the symbol of Remembrance Day.

Photo from Pexels by Elina Sazonova

Galloping Grey by Linda Davidson

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What’s your hot tip? Its Melbourne Cup day today.
The race that stops the nation is about to get underway.

The jockeys are ready with their colours on display.
But it’s the horses, who are the stars of the day.
With chestnuts so shiny and blacks with a blaze;
Bays with white socks and large dapple greys.
Thoroughbreds prancing and biting at the bit;
Waiting at the barriers looking mighty and super-fit.

Suddenly the crowd becomes quiet.
The barriers open and horses jump out.
The fans in the stands are now screaming
And each one is secretly dreaming
That their horse will be the winner
So they can boast at tonight’s dinner.

There’s three thousand, two hundred metres to go.
Which horse will speed up and put on a show.
They’re bunched tight ‘round the track
So there’s no looking back.
Hooves sounding like thunder
As we all gaze in wonder.
Which horse will take the lead
And become today’s famous steed.

They’re on the home stretch and some horses are tiring.
Nostrils are flaring and tails wildly flying.
But look at number twenty-two
He’s found a gap and galloped through.
The jockey riding knows what to do.
He leans forward letting the gelding have his head.
As he crosses the line, one whole length ahead.

The crowd is roaring
and emotions are soaring.
But the star of the day is the large dapple grey.
He knows he’s done well and was happy to play.
Now all sweaty, he lets out a snort and a neigh
And looks forward to pats and some extra hay.

Photo from Pexels by Tom Fisk

The Raman Effect by Celia Berrell

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(Chandrasekhara Venkarta Raman was born 7 th November 1888)

Chandrasekhara
Raman’s a knight
and Nobel prize-winner
for physics in light.
A new radiation
he came to detect.
A scatter of rays
named “The Raman Effect”.

This change in light’s wavelength
when passing-on through
a gas or some substance
in spectroscope view,
reveals the ID
of its chemistry zoo.
A tool to make
scientist’s dreams come true!

Doing no damage
discerning gem quality;
checking a pill for
content and purity.
Uses: amazingly
varied and rife.
Such as scanning remotely
for Mars signs of life.

For Teachers: The Nobel Prize in Physics 1930 was awarded to Sir Chandrasekhara Venkata Raman “for his work on the scattering of light and for the discovery of the effect named after him” https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/physics/laureates/1930/

Photo from Pexels by Barcelos_fotos

Helpful and Kind by Andrew Plant

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I’m packing up my sandpit

Not because I am to old 

I’m packing up my sandpit

Because I heard it told 

That the sand in all the world

Is less than it used to be

Once a hundred squillion grains

Now there’s only 93

So I’ve stomped on all the castles

That I built yesterday

Then romped on all the ruins

Such funtastic games to play

I picked up toys and tools

And put them in my cubby house

Which frightened a few spiders 

And scared little a mouse 

Now I’m scooping up the sand 

Into buckets bags and boxes

And I’m getting quite a lot

In my shoes and in my sockses 

There’s much more that I thought 

Yes there’s lots and lots  and lots

So I’m going to the kitchen

To get some cups and pans and pots

I heard that I can take it  

To a market that is black

And people pick it up

From somewhere out the back

I hope that they will take it

To a beach not far away

So that I may still enjoy it

Should we go there to play 

I’m sure I’ll miss my sandpit

But I’m trying not to mind

I hope it will be helpful

It’s not that easy to be kind

But I think it is the right thing

For everyone and me

If it means we’ll still have beaches

Beyond 2053

Teacher’s note: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20191108-why-the-world-is-running-out-of-sand?

Photo from Pexels by Elviss Railijs Bitāns

Waiting in the Queue by Jan Darling

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‘Oh please let me in’ said the bear who was grizzly
‘I’m doing a show, I don’t want it frizzly.’
He tugged at his hair, that fussy old bear
‘I’ve just had it dyed, it used to be fair’.
Those waiting in line just smiled at each other
Ev’ryone happy to help their brother.

A worm who was third from the start of the queue
Was shivering hard and fast turning blue
‘What’s wrong with this bus? It’s broken down?
Will anyone ever get into the town?’
The town was twinkling and bright with its light
Some in the queue were starting to fight.

A big bird with a bandage around one wing
Started to dance the highland fling
A pelican said to a stork ‘Outrageous!
I do hope this madness is not contagious.’
The stork looked at him squarely and quietly said
‘I wish I were home and tucked into my bed’.

Three canaries were singing (they’d been to a dance)
The song they were singing was written in France
They yodelled and trilled all over the scales
They even tried singing the song of the whales.
They ordered some orange and cherry ice cream
Enough to feed a whole basketball team.

The ice cream arrived and the queue they went crazy
Except for the piglets – they’re terribly lazy,
They wanted some oak nuts, acorns they’re called,
They said they grew hair and no-one was bald.
Maybe it’s true that nuts cover the scalp
But nobody there needed that kind of help.

The crowd suddenly hushed and fell into silence
Somewhere behind was an outbreak of violence
A basketball team had arrived with some melons
Those in the crowd believed they were felons
(people who steal from others their treasures)
Getting caught redhanded was one of their pleasures!

The whole scene looked stupid to Harry the Horse
Who was trying to study the subject of Morse
He tapped then he paused and waited for action
His hoof immune from outer distraction
He tapped dah dah dit, dit dah, dah and dit*
(If it worked he would make a quick dash for it.)

Did you hear about Harry’s ultimate fate?
His message was read – it opened the gate!
Harry leapt forth and came in number nine
And met a young filly he thought was divine;
When Harry proposed she promised to tryst
‘Cos Harry had asked with a flick of his wrist.

Well, you might think that this is all rot,
That all horses can do is gallop and trot,
But Harry believed he could dominate fate
By placing his faith in the power to create.
The message he’d sent by dah and by dit
Had stretched his talent and used all of his wit.

Dah dah dit, tapped in Morse will give you a ‘g’
Dit dah gives you ‘a’, dah and dit ‘t’ and ‘e’
So Harry the Horse repeated his offer,
Confirmed he was humble and empty his coffer;
And Tilly the Filly was thrilled with his Morse
And she happily neighed ‘Oh Harry, of course’.

Sorry I am, about this diversion
I have an aversion to total immersion
The queue got itself rattled
They all tittle-tattled
The bus arrived late and was slow to unload
But who jumped out first? Of course – the toad.

*In Morse code this spells GATE

Photo from Pexels by Pavlos Lee