Fantastic Feathers by Celia Berrell

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Compared to fur or human hair

feathers are a smart affair.

As down, their fluffy unzipped form

of under-feathers, keeps birds warm.

 

But barbs and barbules, shaft and quill

hide clues to how birds fly with skill.

Their contour feathers, zipped and long

make wafting wings so light yet strong.

 

From dowdy mums to vivid males

with crazy crests and splendid tails;

for camouflage or bright display

feathers have lots of roles to play.

 

First published in Double Helix (September 2015)
Reproduced with permission of CSIRO
www.doublehelix.csiro.au

 

Polliwogs and pobblebonks by Jenny Erlanger

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I could be quite mistaken

but I’m feeling pretty sure

that polliwog’s a word

you’ve never come across before.

And pobblebonk’s another,

with a funny kind of sound,

a word I’m also certain

you have never seen around.

They’re not a type of candy

or variety of fish.

They’re not exotic items

in some oriental dish.

They don’t have beaks or feathers

and they’re not a breed of dog.

A polliwog’s a tadpole

and a pobblebonk’s a frog.

The Little Fish by Bridh Hancock

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I wish I was a little fish,

a little fishy me,

I’d swim and swim and swim and swim,

(I like swimming),

Swimming swimminglingly.

 

I’d flip my fins, do tail-spins

With an in-built mini-motor,

Act the lair and really scare

Away hook, line and floater.

 

If I were a little fish,

a little fishy I,

I’d make a little fishy wish

And wish that I could fly.

 

I’d fly and fly and fly and fly,

Flying up and down,

And in between, to see the scene,

Fly out, about and around.

 

I’d loop a kooky loop and fly

Through dark and drizzly weather,

Any where that’s full of air;

A fish without a feather.

 

I’d run on ultra-octane gas

With three thick wheels for legs.

This little town in yoke will drown

When I bomb it with my eggs.

 

Sky, sky, everywhere

Except where clouds go sailing.

Dry sky, anywhere

It is not rain or hailing.

 

I’d join the guys who fly the skies;

Naturally quite heroic.

I wouldn’t mind the wind behind,

But hope I don’t get air-sick!

 

I’d join a wacky Wild West Show

Touring South East Asia,

Teaching “curry and rice is velly nice,

But McDonalds will amazia.”

 

In black and white with banjo blue

I’d busk in Larry Park,

And Fred Astaire would stop and stare

When I whistled up a snark.

 

And who could keep me off the green

When I see a snooker table?

Shooting crap or `tender-trap’,

I’m cooler than Clark Gable.

 

I’d flap and fluff my way to fame,

A modern Petomaniac,

And do all manner of magic things

In white-tie & tails and top-hat.

 

And anyone who didn’t laugh,

I’d poop right in his soup dish.

I have my pride!  It’s not for nought I’d

Be a little fish.

 

For My Grandson Ethan by Peter Rich

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ETHEN’S 4TH BIRTHDAY

Ethen and Noah put to sea, in a beautiful pea-green boat.

They waved goodbye to their Mummy and Daddy, then struggled to stay afloat………………………….

Noah handled the sail, leaving Ethen to bail, as they rode the cresting foam

Then above the wind’s shriek, the bending mast’s creak,

They heard a mournful moan

 

Up from the depths, a sea-serpent leapt, its tentacles curling and twisting

they reached for the boys, with a scrabbling noise,

and set the boat spinning and listing

 

Staring in awe at the monster’s dark maw, their future looked terribly bleak

Each caught round the waist, they were dragged face-to-face

With huge eyes round a monstrous beak

 

But from deep down inside, a kindly voice cried: “Ethen, Noah you’re invited to tea!

The King and his mermaids, were told it’s your birthday.

Come, join the King of the sea!”

 

To the sea bed, with the serpent they sped, to a cave full of music and song

The king with his crown,  gazed regally around,

At his guests and a merry-some throng

 

Starfish on the ceiling, by their warm glow revealing, a most enchanting scene

Merfolk, in pairs dancing,  with seahorses  prancing

As clown fish shimmered and gleamed

 

A cake was unfurled, decorated with pearls, and “Happy Birthday” was joyfully sung

A treasure chest long concealed had its contents revealed

And gold coins round their necks gently hung

 

Then a bellowing call, echoed throughout the hall, and a giant of the sea now appeared

“Your ride has arrived” and the King winked his eye

As a whale beat it’s tail and drew near

 

On the backs of 2 dolphins, they perched just like Sultans, and rode to the creatures broad back

The boys cheered and waved as they swept from the cave

Into waters both cold and ink-black

 

To the surface they flew, launching into the blue, neath a sky now prickling with stars

Appeased and now calm into the Sea’s gentle arms

They settled and gazed up at Mars

 

To their ears came sad songs, deep notes, slow, prolonged, as the mermaids bade them good bye

Their boat no more needed, as a gift Ethen ceded

And they turned towards home with a sigh

 

The sudden flash of a light set the mermaids to flight, Ethen slowly took in the scene

There was Mum at his bed, gently stroking his head

The adventure had been but a dream.

Peter Rich

 

Fossil Hunters by Celia Berrell

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The project’s elementary:

find rock-types sedimentary

then look for marks of mystery

that tell Earth’s ancient history.

 

Some skeletons of bone turned stone

and eggshells left by creatures grown

much bigger than an elephant.

Were dinosaurs intelligent?

 

A lot of effort is exerted

digging rocks and getting dirtied

when you are a scientist

and proud Pal-e-ontologist.

 

 

Pure Mischief with Teacher Notes

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Teacher notes: Great ideas on using this poem in your classroom

Themes: rules, boundaries, pet care, living together harmoniously, thinking of others.

Classroom: Write a list of rules, explain why they would be good rules. Write a story or poem, or draw a picture about a funny ‘oopsie’ with a new pet or a younger sister or brother.

Discussion – Why do we have rules in the classroom, rules on the roads.

Why do we have laws?

What would happen if no one obeyed rules, if there were no boundaries, no laws or penalties for breaking them?

Cartoon Picnic by Lynelle Kendall

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I stepped into the cartoon frame

I lost my voice, I lost my name

I lost my third dimension too

Last of all – my hair turned blue.

 

I sat upon a picnic mat

With friends who were equally flat

Their world was bright and fancy free

Their cartoon food looked heavenly

 

But then I learnt – this frozen frame

Had left me motionless, in vain

I pulled my sandwich towards me

It did not budge – not one degree!

 

Stuck in starved exasperation

I wished I were an animation.

The Love of Eggs by Robyn Youl

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Mother Emu lays her eggs

Disdainfully walks away

Emu father tends their eggs

Turning each one every day

 

Echidna mums lay just one egg

In her pouch it hatches

When puggle starts to prickle

It’s evicted ‘cause it scratches

 

Mother Trapdoor loves her eggs

With silk she lines her nest

She sometimes gobbles up the dad

Mum Spider really does know best

 

Sea Horse Dads carry eggs in pouches

From eggs tiny foals break free

Sea Dads’ pouches stretch and stretch

Until Dads give birth in the open sea

A Book by Louise McCarthy

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A Book!

Book book, book book! exclaimed the hen.

Really!  I replied.

Book book, book book, she clucked again.

Book book, book book, she sighed.

A book, a book – I understand.

A book, a book – but what?

Book book, book book, book book, book book

Book book, book book, Book bok…

A book, a book – I’ll have a look.

I’ll see what I can find.

A book, a book – a classic  book,

This book, you will not mind.

So we sat under the claret ash with a book; the hen and me.

And I read till it was almost dark.

Then we went inside for tea.

 

 

The Wizard Comb by Anna Banasiak

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Hidden under the books, surrounded by pens.

White-but he has a soul of gold in a sense

He wants to fly away from the table.

Maybe then the world would be…

more wonderful.

My once favourite subject of play… with a doll;

Now broken and abandoned under the wall.

He was replaced by a NEW,

much bigger and colourful too.

I tell him of sorrows and fears.

He consoles me, wiping away all my tears,

and brings all the children sweet dreams…

Anna Banasiak