Dancing the tune of the breeze
She lifts her coat sleeves –
And freezes as if in prayer
To breed in the shady leaves;
Green confetti in air.
On the rib-case underneath –
A waxy seam of leaf,
Tiny eggs, colour of cream
Are stuck with butterfly paste.
Blue lady lifts as a dream,
Leaving them, to hatch or waste.
Who knows where she goes
Blue butterfly mother?
Image by Pexels
I had a dream the other night.
At first, it gave me quite a fright.
I thought the Moon was falling, ’til
it landed on my windowsill.
She fluffed her fur and shook her head
then gracefully leapt onto my bed
It’s not the Moon, it’s not a spider.
Instead, a silver Greater Glider!
At 12pm, the midnight hour,
a clock struck twelve. A sense of power
shimmered through her moonshine coat,
as she began to grow and float.
“Climb aboard”, she said with pride
and took me on a midnight ride.
Swooping through the starry night,
two new-found friends in sheer delight.
from the painting TIME TO GROW by Sharon Davson
A stay at home day today.
A quiet, nothing day.
I build a multilevel carpark for my cars.
Baby sister knocks it down. Arggh…..
I jump high on my trampoline to peek next door.
A kookaburra laughs.
I laugh back.
Jump, laugh, jump, laugh.
I lay on my trampoline to rest,
and make pictures from the clouds.
Dinosaur, bird, dolphin, a funny face.
I hide from baby sister in the garden.
A lizard scoots past. I chase. It’s too fast.
The trees are squawking.
I count the birds in my backyard tree.
Eighteen!
I ride my scooter
and pretend I’m travelling far away to somewhere where the action is.
Away from my quiet, nothing day.
I try to teach Leo to fetch.
I throw, he barks, I fetch.
Leo doesn’t understand the rules of the game.
Dinner tonight is my favourite, Spaghetti and meatballs.
A bubble bath and a snuggle with baby sister before bed.
My quiet, nothing day was actually really something.
from the painting TIME TO GROW by Sharon Davson
The whoosh of the wind has lifted its sail.
It flips and flaps and flicks its tail.
My kit-packet kite is pecking the sky,
jigging and jagging, higher and higher!
Soaring in circles – a marvellous thing!
I am the keeper.
I hold the string.
Oops, it’s in a tree…
Image from Pixabay
I’ve got a kite
whose tail’s quite white.
It’s strong and light
in colours bright.
With wind just right
my kite gains height.
The string’s pulled tight.
My kite’s in flight!
But my delight
soon turns to plight
when wind-gusts bite
with forceful spite
and push my kite
with such great might
the string can’t fight
and snaps in fright.
My falling kite’s
no more in flight
and lost to sight
as day turns night.
Image by Pixabay
A sandy island in the Gulf
beckons us to make landfall.
A picnic here is lots of fun
while flocks of seabirds call.
The waters slapping round the shore
look inviting in the sun,
but listen to the boatman
when he warns everyone:
“Just step into that gentle tide —
up to your knees will do —
and a hungry tiger shark
will bite you clean in two!”
Best leave before the sun goes down,
that’s when the tide will rise
and cover every inch of ground
and catch you by surprise.
Going, going, almost GONE! Sand Island off Karumba, Queensland.
Photo by Ginette Pestana
Welcome 2026!
We hope that you’ve had a lovely holiday season and are ready for some new beginnings.
Looking forward to receiving your poetic creations, so email them to me, Linda Davidson (your new ACP Administrator), at:
Date prompts:
Picture prompt:
This is the first panel of a large artwork titled TIME TO GROW by Sharon Davson
Houses strung with sparkly lights;
Carols echoing through the night;
A star atop a special tree;
That’s what Christmas means to me.
Santa, stockings, secret lists;
Whispered plans and secret gifts;
Glittering lights upon the tree;
That’s what Christmas means to me.
Baubles, lanterns, tinsel strings;
Elves on shelves and bells that ring;
Presents ready near the tree;
That’s what Christmas means to me.
Giving, sharing, having fun;
Wishing peace to everyone;
Gathered together round the tree;
That’s what Christmas means to me.
image from Pixabay
I’ve fetched a cloth and made it damp
with silver polish goo.
I’m banking on this little lamp
to make my dreams come true.
I’ve rubbed and scrubbed. I’ve really tried.
The smell has made me dizzy.
But nothing’s stirred from deep inside.
The genie must be busy.
Image from Pexels
Crash, bang, wallop
I’m starting up a band
Crash, bang, wallop
my drum stick hits the pan.
Crash, bang, wallop
it’s great to make a noise
Crash, bang, wallop
beats playing with my toys.
Crash, bang, wallop
my pan lid cymbals smash
Crash, bang, wallop
I love to yell and bash.
Crash, bang, wallop
it’s really going well
Crash, bang, wallop
this is music – can’t you tell?
Image from Pixabay
Australian Children’s Poetry 