The kids said..
We don’t want sandwiches
We don’t want cheesy rolls
We’ve had enough of wraps and crackers
We’ve had enough of scrolls
Well, then Mum said..
Would you like some liverwurst?
Maybe deep fried brains?
Perhaps some spinach that I boiled,
Would make a lovely change?
The kids said..
A sandwich is fine mum..
Thanks
I love to look at snails,
‘cos they’re slimy little things.
I like to see their silver trails
on the grass’s wrinkly fringe.
I love the eyes that vanish,
when I poke them with a stick.
I love the way their spotted shells
crunch from just a little kick.
Mummy says that’s naughty
and I shouldn’t be so cruel,
but she poisons her whole vegie patch,
who does she think she fools?
My sister, she won’t touch them,
‘cos they make her skin go crawly
so I stuffed one down her neck
and now she feels quite poorly.
Still, I’d love to have a snail
as a very special pet
I’d take it to the letterbox
so it could eat the mail.
I’d set it in a gutter,
on a leaf made as a boat.
Mummy told me not to,
‘cos it will never float.
I wouldn’t let it try to eat
my nanna’s pretty blouses,
or let it make a silvery trail,
upon my grandpa’s trousers.
I said I’d wash it in the sink,
I know it likes the water,
but Mummy said she didn’t think
that I had better oughta.
I’d like to take it into bed
to watch it slowly slither
but Mummy told me if I do,
I might just wake up dead.
(and not from the snail!)
I’ve learnt it’s cruel to poke snails’ eyes,
it’s mean to crush their shells.
So, what I’ll do is watch them trail
through Mummy’s garden patch,
but write a sign to warn them
that they may have met their match.
Will you come to lunch with me,
Upon the grass, beneath the tree?
Will you bring a mat for three,
And picnic ‘neath the sky?
Yes, I’ll come to picnic there.
The grass is green, the day is fair,
And then we’ll play without a care,
My two best friends and I.
I’ll bring the fruit and fairy bread,
Cool drinks and cups and (as you’ve said)
A mat with checks so bright and red,
To sit on ‘neath the sky.
We’ll feast and laugh and climb and run
Our picnic day will be such fun!
We’ll spin cartwheels and when we’re done
We’ll watch the clouds go by.
Then when the sun is sinking low
And stars are warming up their glow
Fold up the mat, it’s time to go
We’ll bid a fond goodbye.
Until we meet again my friend,
We’ll bid a fond goodbye.
Slip a couple up your sleeve,
that way you can’t go wrong
but first take care the sleeves you wear
are pretty tight and long.
Then accidentally bump your plate –
that should get rid of more.
Your Mum would never make you eat
the peas that hit the floor.
Another thing that’s hard to do
but really worth the wait
is slip some peas when no one sees
onto your sister’s plate.
And then (don’t say I told you)
if you’re desperate I suppose
you could shove some up your nostrils
and then quickly blow your nose.
By now you should have lost the lot.
If not, may I suggest
you think of other ways yourself
to deal with all the rest.
First published in “Giggles and Niggles” (Haddington Press, 2007)
FOOD inside an orange egg.
So, you want to pull my leg?
Not an egg and not a fruit.
Is it food? The point is moot.
Letters help to form a face.
Judging by their size and place,
Eyes comprising two big “O”‘s.
Nothing there to serve as nose,
But all’s not lost, no, have no fear,
For “F” and “D” each serve as ear!
Tegan the vegan
Won’t eat meat
She says fauna are friends
Not food we should eat
If it runs or blows bubbles
Brays, baas or moos
It‘s not destined for dinner
Or handbags or shoes
Tegan the vegan
Won’t eat meat
She can’t stand the idea
That her food once had feet
She munches on mushrooms
Scoffs spinach and greens
Eats vegies galore
Gobbles all the good beans
Tegan the Vegan
Won’t eat meat
She moves to the rhythm
Of her own silver beet
And while it’s not understood
By all those she holds dear
Her tummy is full
And her conscience is clear
Sammy the seal loves to swim in the sea.
He eats fish for breakfast and eats fish for tea.
He doesn’t much mind all their bones and their scales,
For he swallows them whole from their heads to their tails.
Then once he is full he is ready to rest
And a rock in the sun is the spot he likes best.
When Sammy is swimming a shark may glide past.
And that’s time for Sammy to move very fast!
For Sammy is smart and has more than a hunch
That a shark thinks a seal makes a rather nice lunch!
Since sharks have sharp teeth like the points on a saw,
They’re clearly a threat that no seal can ignore.
If sometimes you find him asleep on a beach,
Make sure that you keep yourself out of his reach,
For if you should rouse him and give him a fright
He may be upset and get ready to fight.
So better by far that you give him no cause,
Since though without fists, he has very strong jaws!
Monty said: I liked the alliterative possibilities of Sammy the seal for the opening line of the poem, but soon realised why I had chosen Sammy and not Sally. Not only are there seals in the area quite close to where I live, but also an opportunity shop run by Good Samaritan Industries as “Good Sammy’s” with a seal featured in their logo!
There’s a broccoli in my wardrobe
and a cucumber by my bed.
Something green was on my pillow
but now it’s green goo on my head.
There are lettuce leaves by my mirror,
some snow peas in my drawer,
and I think I saw a brussel sprout
lurking behind my door.
I don’t know what they’re up to
or what any of this means.
But if I want my bedroom to myself
I’d better eat my greens.
Percy Possum
swings his brush-tail,
leaps from roof to roof
on a goodnight-trail.
He hunts for insects,
a midnight feast –
if he finds some eggs,
he’ll really be pleased.
The night is quiet,
the stars are dim.
He wishes they’d shine
a bit brighter for him.
What the Smoke Says
This smoke floats
With light airy whispers:
‘Marshmallows,
‘Roast potatoes,
‘Billy tea,
‘Fun by the sea.’
It points to the sweetest one
Points at me.
This smoke floats
Heavy and dark,
It billows and bellows:
‘Crisped leaves
‘And crimson sun
‘Embers are falling,
‘Fire is burning,
‘I’m your alarm,’
It points with the wind,
Says: ‘Time to flee.’
Jessica said: I live on a bush property, so smoke always brings to mind either campfires or bushfires. I based this poem on my thoughts about the different messages smoke can give us.
Australian Children’s Poetry 