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Atonement

 

Coast of Normandy,

France, Omaha Beach.

Today the tide is out –

barely a ripple.

Cement bunkers and bomb craters

merge into the grass,

haunted

 

by d-day, June ‘44.

Wave after wave, forward or drown,

nowhere to go but falling.

Mangled tanks, body parts.

Blood on the tide.

Exploding cliffs.

 

Now the guns are sold for scrap,

the bodies collected,

laid in neat rows

in the cemetery above,

 

under white marble crosses,

so precisely placed

that if I kneel I see one –

if I stand I see thousands.

 

Oceans of crosses.

I read along the rows –

Name: Regiment: Hometown:

Creep soundlessly, with sickened awe.

Is sleep a just reward?

 

The Pool of Remembrance:

waterlilies soften its sharp angles,

wisp of a breeze ruffles the reflection

of chiselled words on the monument above.

 

Can the sacrifice be softened?

Can the past be put to rest?

 

In the distance the gardener kneels,

shears in hand, cutting the grass,

blade by blade. Around one cross

then on to the next –

and on and on and on.

Glenys Eskdale

Glenys said: I wrote this poem after visiting the Colleville, the American war cemetery at the site of the d-day landings in Normandy in June 1944. I have since visited World War One war cemeteries on the Somme in France. My sentiments have not changed. Nothing can atone for the unspeakable horrors these men endured.

 

 

 

 

 

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Anzac Day

 

How can I ever forget

The old legless soldier

Ribbons on his chest

In his wheelchair

That April morning

In the hospital grounds

When the bugle sounded

Tears streaming down his cheeks

His muffled sobs and

His sweet-faced young nurse

Leaning to offer him comfort –

 

In that single moment

A snapshot of what

War does to people.

 

Dianne Bates

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The End of the Solar System

 

Our sun releases energy.

A plasma called the Solar Wind.

But far away it’s just a breeze.

And further still that breeze will end.

 

The space probes Voyager 1 and 2

have travelled over thirty years

transmitting sounds and pictures as they

act as mankind’s eyes and ears.

 

Voyager 1 has reached the point

where Solar Wind no longer blows.

Now cosmic rays from other stars

our Voyager’s detector shows.

 

Eighteen billion kilometres

away from Earth, these space probes trace

just what it’s like existing on

the edge of interstellar space!

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13

Celia said: For me, the word “GO” prompts the questions “how far CAN we go?”  The most distant man-made objects are the space probes Voyager 1 & 2.  Launched in 1977, they are still transmitting information, helping us learn more about space and the farthest reaches of our Solar System.  Even when we can’t “GO” somewhere ourselves, we can still discover fascinating stuff about our world!

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-06-16/voyager-space-probe-reaches-edge-of-solar-system/4074468

 

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THE KOALA AND THE CROCODILE

 

Ko-Ko Koala was a spoilt little brat.

He wouldn’t eat vegies in case he got fat.

‘Brussel sprouts and cabbage belong in the bin,

Lemonade and fudge keeps me nice and thin.’

 

‘Chicken and chips and hamburgers fried,

And chocolate donuts with cream inside

Taste much better for a Koala about town

Bush food is stodgy,’ he said with a frown.

 

His friends all got very very cross,

Bush food is filling but isn’t very posh.

Until there visited a crocodile

Jaws wide open in a hungry smile.

 

The little Koala was suddenly left,

Nobody liked the company he kept.

Ko-Ko wished the crocodile very far away,

But the crocodile stayed to talk of takeaway.

 

‘Bags of chips and popcorn for tea,

Plenty to eat if you dine with me.

If only you would come down nearer,

Our friendship could be so much dearer.’

 

The days went by, Ko-Ko got thin and wan,

Dreaming of takeaway meals long gone.

Getting very hungry so high off the ground,

He started eating gum leaves and grew very round

 

The crocodile still waited his eyes full of greed.

And kept renewing his invitation to feed.

‘There’s pineapple on pav with cream between,

And ice creams with flavours you’ve never seen.’

 

‘A diet of ice cream and potato chips fried,

Will give me tummy ache,’ scared Ko-Ko replied.

The crocodile sighed and at last lost his smile,

And decided to slink off home for a while.

 

And this is why the crocodile’s tears of grief

Are at the Koala’s love for the Eucalyptus leaf.

And for takeaway food Ko-Ko will never roam.

He finds plenty to eat in his tree top home.

Margaret Pearce

 

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Ready, Steady, Go!

 

Ready, steady, go!

What do you want to know?

My name is Fleet,

My brother’s Pete,

And this is my sister, Jo.

 

Ready, steady, go –

What will we see at the show?

A clown with sweets

For parakeets,

And elephants laying low.

 

Ready, steady, go –

What will we do in the snow?

We’ll build a street

Of snow and sleet,

With icicle homes in a row.

 

Ready, steady, go –

Why is the house aglow?

It’s a retreat

For tired feet,

So everyone here, let’s go!

 

Lyn Oxley

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13

Lyn said: I sense a marching beat to this poem, hence the retreat for tired feet.

 

 

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Heading To the Game

 

I prodded my mate as we rode on the train.

“You know that we’re just gonna thrash you again.

Your players are either too short or too slow.

It’s a foregone conclusion. Just thought you should know.

 

“Besides, your team’s mascot. Mate, give me a break.

A platypus? That is a major mistake!

A lion or tiger might stir up some fear.

A platypus? Your blokes have got no idea!

 

“And why is it purple? I tell you, it’s sad.

A team needs a mascot that’s scary and bad.

Yours just looks weird. It’s not a good look.

No wonder the team you support is so crook.”

My mate simply smiled. He wasn’t upset.

“You’re really so certain? Well, let’s have a bet.

You look and you sound like a back-country bumpkin.

You can share my soup later.” “Tomato?” “No, pumpkin.”

 

Stephen Whiteside
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

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Moon Landing

Hey diddle duddle

what a terrible muddle

when the astronaut stepped on the moon

The cow looked confused

the wee dog was amused

and the cat and the fiddle just spooned

Allan Cropper

Allan said: Just a little bit on nonsense which sprang to mind when I saw your list of word prompts in Poetry Prompt #14

 

 

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Secret Garden

 

The door looks like

part of the décor

and you need to be

in the deepest part of your mind

to recognise the place.

It smells of moss

and thousands of years

of water dripping.

It never rains here.

The pools reflect nothing

and nobody.

The only way in

is from the inside.

 

Jennie Fraine
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

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Spellbound!

 

Today I started back at school

And heard about a brand new rule.

My teacher had an evil grin.

She said:  “I’m going to keep you in

Till you can spell ‘Afghanistan’.

You won’t be leaving till you can.”

 

I heard her words with great dismay.

My friend and I had planned to play,

And since my spelling’s rather poor,

My chance of getting out the door

And going off to play with him

Seemed altogether rather slim.

 

But then my Afghan friend Khalil

Said: “I can guess how you must feel,

Because I often felt a failure

When I first tried to spell ‘Australia’.

Let’s work together as a team,

It’s not as hard as it might seem.”

 

We worked together, he and I.

He had a plan for me to try:

“I think,” he said, “you’ll find it best

To learn just ‘Afghan’, then the rest.

So let’s begin with ‘Af’ and ‘ghan’.

You’ll surely manage ‘is’ and tan’!”

 

Well, spelling ‘Af’ did not take long.

(He told me double f was wrong),

But as for ‘ghan’ I must beware,

Since silent h had crept in there!

But once he put me on my guard

Inserting h was not so hard.

 

I added then both ‘is’ and ‘tan’

And neatly wrote “Afghanistan”

Then when our turn had come to spell

Khalil and I performed so well

That in the end, despite her grin,

The teacher couldn’t keep us in.

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Monty says:  “I started with the idea of a new rule for a new school year and since accurate spelling presents a significant challenge for many children (and adults!) decided to combine these two elements in the poem. It gave me an opportunity to add a dash of  fruitful understanding and teamwork with someone from a different background.”

 

 

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Eggshell Animals

 

Purple-coloured jellybeans

with tiny arms and legs

will prod and poke a hole in

their marble-sized white egg.

 

Once hatched, they’ll grow-up hairy

and have a leathery beak.

So are they some new kind of bird

whose wings became antique?

 

No, no.  It’s not a birdy thing.

Then could it be lizard?

No.  Fur won’t grow on reptiles …

unless tricked by a wizard!

 

At first they’re bald as pumpkins

and lap their mother’s milk.

But four months-old, a platypus

has fur like soft thick silk.

Celia Berrell

inspired by:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5Y2h5zjpWU

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9