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.
Kristin Martin
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.’
Rose is red and Violet’s all blue
Rose loved painting,
Violet loved it too.
Rose painted with red,
Violet with blue.
They crept out of bed,
To paint in the night.
But Mum came in,
‘Aaaagh!’ And got such a fright.
‘Sorry Mummy,’ said Rose, all red.
‘Sorry Mummy,’ said Violet, all blue.
‘It’s okay, my little monsters,
‘I know what to do.’
Mum drew a big bath,
And plopped them both in.
Whooshed them round,
And into a spin.
The monsters spun round,
Splished and splashed.
Water whirled round,
And both colours clashed.
Now Violet wasn’t blue,
And Rose was not red.
‘Yippeeee!’ they cried,
‘We’re purple instead!’
Now Mum feeling faint,
Took out some more paint.
‘Perhaps some white,
Will fix them all right.’
The water whooshed round,
And down the sink.
‘Aaaagh!’ wailed mum,
‘My monsters are pink.’
Nanna came in,
with a towel so green.
She scrubbed while she dried,
Until they were clean.
Not purple or pink,
Or blue or red.
But finally all green,
And ready for bed.
With your hand in mine, you can do anything.
You can climb the stairs
You can cross the road
You can shuffle your feet through the soft warm sand to get to the edge of the sea.
With your hand in mine, I would do anything.
I would climb a mountain
I would build a road
I would swim all the oceans and rivers and lakes for you, my child
And for me.
James said: This was one that I bounced around for a while after my daughter first learned to climb the stairs in our home. The poetry prompt triggered me to dig it out and rework it a little.
That seal in New Zealand
Decided to stay
All the others seals
they went away
Time to migrate
And swim a long lap
That seal in New Zealand
Took a long nap
That seal in New Zealand
Marina full of sun
Thought an extended stay
Was better fun
No sharing of fish
All wharf space she owns
That seal in New Zealand
Has found a new home
She’s now very famous
On the news worldwide
That seal in New Zealand
Takes it all in her stride
Smiling and grunting
A bit of a flap
That seal in New Zealand
Got a very good rap
She rolled for the camera
300 kilos of lard
A grin for the lens
Isn’t too hard
Named “Owha” by locals
She has stayed a year
Missing her friends
No! Not a tear
That seal in New Zealand
Intends to stay
Loves her new country
In the sun she will lay
Jeanie said: I saw on the news a story about a seal who has stayed on at The Auckland’s Marina in New Zealand instead of migrating. I thought it a fun topic for a Seal poem.
Stop, rain, stop!
Not another drop!
My friends are here. They’ve come to play.
We want to be outdoors today.
Stop, rain, stop!
Stop, rain, stop!
Not another drop!
We do not want our washing wet,
But you make sure that’s what we get.
Stop, rain, stop!
Stop, rain, stop!
Not another drop!
You’ve been around for several hours:
Look how you’re drowning all the flowers!
Stop, rain, stop!
Stop, rain, stop!
Not another drop!
Go help the farmer grow his wheat
And give his stock green grass to eat.
Stop, rain, stop!
Drip . . . . . drip . . . . . . . . . . . . plop!
At last, the final drop!
Now we’ll get a flower display.
Now the washing’s on its way.
Now we can go out to play!
Monty says: The poem sets out to give voice to the dissatisfaction and frustration we often feel when wet weather disrupts our plans – a common experience for both children and adults.
‘I don’t want to be a princess,’
The Princess Carlie said.
‘I’ve no wish to grow my hair out long;
I’ll use a rope instead.
I’ve no need to use these glassware shoes;
I’d rather wear my clogs,
And don’t even get me started
On what’s wrong with kissing frogs.
If you really need a royal,
You might try Gary Brown,
He’d enjoy a regal job
Complete with jewelled crown.
I’d rather be a pirate,
Sail a thousand seas;
Swing gracefully in rigging
Like an acrobat on trapeze.
I’d rather have adventure
Than an adoring crowd,
So you’ll find me on the sea-ways,
Belching very loud.
Look up at the tree, can you see a hole in the trunk?
That could be my home, the place where I bunk
A squirrel that’s me, sporting the most incredible, amazing fluffy tail
It snaps over my head like an umbrella when it looks like it might hail
I use it for balance and my sharp claws are to climb
My teeth are big and chunky and they grow all the time
I scamper around collecting seeds, nuts and lots of stuff
And I hide them for winter when there is never enough
If I am suddenly frightened like a statue, I freeze
Then no-one will see me unless “OH NO” I accidentally sneeze
Look at me. I am cute. Then why am I thought of as being a pest
Rubbish I say. If I live in your garden you are truly blest
The children are having a party
It’s a Halloween Party tonight
There are ghosts and ghouls
And mysterious pools
Of something that’s red and bright
At the Halloween Party tonight.
There are screaming dollies and poisonous lollies
And someone will cook up a brew
Of raspberry punch, but I have a hunch
It may contain cockroaches too.
There’ll be silverfish in the Turkish delight
At the Halloween Party tonight.
There’s fairy bread and they’ll chop off your head
If you don’t eat a slice or two
The sprinkles they’ve used are poison-infused
A horrid concoction, it’s true
But the children will eat them and squeal with delight
At the Halloween Party tonight.
The bottles of jam should be left quite alone
They don’t contain fruit, but there’s blood and there’s bone
And if you should dare to sample the stuff
You’ll find that a spoonful is more than enough
You won’t last long, you’ll be out like a light
At the Halloween Party tonight.
The two guillotines are a lovely idea
They bought them on sale at the local Ikea
They can’t wait to use them, and so I suggest
You wear a thick collar, a metal one’s best.
Or else you may get a reduction in height
At the Halloween Party tonight.
The children are having a party
A Halloween party tonight
It’s terribly wicked, but great fun for all
See spectres and phantoms walk right through the wall
And someone is bound to set nighties alight
At the Halloween Party tonight.
Bring your own chainsaw, but dress isn’t formal,
It’s best to wear something entirely abnormal
A cape made of bats will be just the right thing!
And, for heaven’s sake, do remember to bring
A playmate with whom you can fight
At the Halloween party tonight.
There are colourful balls from an army stall
But resist the temptation to touch them at all.
They’re hand grenades, I’m rather afraid,
So touch them and quite a loud bang will be made
But not quite as loud as the dynamite
At the Halloween Party tonight.
There’ll be games to play, but let me just say –
Be careful of musical chairs.
If you’re standing up when the music stops
They’ll chain you and kick you downstairs.
And those chains will be locked as tight as tight
At the Halloween Party tonight.
The children have sent out their invitations
To vampires and zombies and ghouls of all nations
It’s a multicultural beastly bash
For monsters that howl and claw and bash
There’ll be creatures you wouldn’t dare to invite
At the Halloween Party tonight.
The children are having a party
A Halloween party tonight
The games they’ve invented are frankly demented
You’ll be thrown in the lake with both feet cemented
The candles they burn will be arsenic-scented
Breaking Dawn fans will be deeply resented.
A genuine iron maiden they’ve rented
And once you’re locked in, I’m afraid you’re prevented
From evermore seeing the light
At the Halloween Party tonight.
Australian Children’s Poetry 