There’s motion in the ocean
where these little boats just bob afloat.
Their sailors rarely see us
as they venture most along the coast.
But down, below those choppy seas
and sloppy waves that slap that hull,
you’ll find us playing happily.
Our vibrant lives are rarely dull.
Always active,
never still.
See Sea’s Secrecy by Celia Berrell
Artwork: YOU ARE HERE by Hayley Gillespie
Come on down to the library.
It’s sure to be lots of fun.
The staff are, oh so friendly
and there is something for everyone.
There are books to read, magazines to browse,
audio, ebooks too;
computers, ipads and movies;
jigsaws to swap and do.
Toddlers join in rhyme-time.
Adults play cards and chat.
There’s a book discussion group up the front.
It’s tech time down the back.
The chess group are silent and focused.
The craft people share ideas.
In the meeting room, the history group
pores newspapers from past years.
The seed library opens Saturdays;
English conversation group, the same day;
after- school club on Tuesdays –
with lego and games to play.
Come on down to the library,
It’s sure to be lots of fun.
There’s always so much happening
and a welcome for everyone.
Image from Pixabay
Oh me! Oh my! Something really is amiss,
my lips won’t work; they haven’t got a kiss.
I put my finger in my mouth; gums and tongue in place
but still no kiss in there. Has it slipped across my face?
Did I drop it? Did I eat it? Have I left it in the car?
Now I’m really very worried; has it simply gone too far?
Suddenly I feel a pucker; I think I know what’s happening.
My mouth is feeling very strange; my lips begin to do their thing.
I’ve found my kiss; I hadn’t lost it after all.
My lips had just been waiting to give the biggest kiss of all.
Oh me! Oh my! by Diane Finlay
Image from Pixabay
I goggle at the looking glass,
with elbows out like I’m in class
observing Mamma click and twist,
her lipstick case with soft cream wrist.
She neatly writes her royal red o’s,
on lips that bloom like candy rose.
I puff in perfumed powder pots
of pinkish chalk and pansy drops
as Mamma’s strands of sprinkles chink
around her neck. Two dolls, we prink
with sippica-pippica pucker and kiss,
a wet jelly bean for big, red lips!
Watching Mamma Apply Lipstick by Sarah Patricia Kelly
Image from Pixabay
Our microwave’s groaning,
the dishwasher’s moaning,
the fridge has developed a whir.
Our blender’s not blending,
it’s only pretending.
The food’s barely given a stir.
Our dryer’s stopped drying.
it’s not even trying
but that’s not what irks me the most.
The toaster I’m using
has started refusing
to pop up my pieces of toast.
I’m sensing defiance
from every appliance.
It must be their chores they dislike.
I’m wondering whether
they’ve plotted together
to stage this ridiculous strike?
Stop Work by Jenny Erlanger
Image from Pixabay
Dr Seuss said it all:
‘A person’s a person,
no matter how small’.
Let’s say the same for a village:
It isn’t the size that matters,
but how many hearts
call it home.
VILLAGE by Graham Seal
Image from Pixabay
Butterflies all flutter by,
On soft and gentle breeze.
They float like clouds in deep blue sky,
Like leaves falling from trees.
If I could be a butterfly,
Up high within the air,
What could I see on land below?
How would I feel up there?
Would I wave “Hi” to all the birds,
As they fly on their way?
Would I hear what the wind whispers,
To trees that bend and sway?
Would I see all the animals,
On farms and roaming free?
Would I see fish, or whales even,
In lakes, rivers and sea?
Would I look down and see myself,
With smile upon my face,
And know my dreams can take me there,
To every happy place?
Take Me There by Rod Loader
Artwork: YOU ARE HERE by Hayley Gillespie
I am a white chihuahua,
I’m very, very new,
I’ll make you laugh — ha ha ha,
at all the things I do.
Sniffing empty shoes,
trying to bite a chair,
barking at the front door
when nobody is there.
My ears are quite unique,
as you can plainly see,
my eyes are both enormous,
as soulful as can be.
I’m always very hungry,
for food I’ll always scrounge,
but when I’m very good,
I can get up on the lounge!
Button, born 20 October 2025.
Photo by Philip Webster
Tumberlina has ten toes,
stumble-bumble, up she goes!
Her weeny foot slips on a stair
and now her toes are in the air.
Giggle-wiggle, with a hop
she’s off again to reach the top.
Photo from Pixabay
Bright white cotton for its feathers,
Beak hooked from grey-black twine,
Whitish stitches for its eye-rings,
Dark glossy beads for eyes.
A strong yarn for its feet and claws,
Its crest, a yellow fleece —
A sulphur-crested cockatoo!
I hope it doesn’t screech!
Image by ChatGPT on reading Linda’s poem
Australian Children’s Poetry 