I Wish

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I Wish…


Oh goose you fly so very high,

I wish that I could too.

Up up, up up, into the sky,

There’s nothing I can do.


I stand here wishing I’d grow wings,

I never hope for other things.

I dream at night that I’ve gained height,

And the earth is almost out of sight.


But here I am, stuck on the ground,

Never to be seen or found,

Up there with you oh goose,

For I am just a humble moose.


Oh moose as I look down below,

I notice you especially.

You graze the grass, you sip the lake,

You wander so majestically.


Your antlers have such symmetry,

They make a stunning crown.

Your fur hide, is a royal robe,

Magnificent though brown.


And since you simply cannot fly;

You’re never going to fledge,

I’ve bought a gift – an airline ticket,

With a dozen golden eggs.


So dream your dreams,

You never know just what you will achieve.

Many things are possible,

So long as you believe.



Louise McCarthy


A Secret Space


A Secret Space


There was shelter –

An upturned water tank

With an entrance hole —

My secret space

In the brittle summer bush

Where I’d hide,

Dark and bruised and splintered.


In those childhood days

I was an outlaw of sorts,

Travelling alone,

Not fitting anywhere,

Listening to cicadas throbbing

With song,

Beyond words,

Wanting nothing

But the arc of my mother’s arms



Dianne Bates

An hour of fame


An hour of fame


I’m standing proudly centre stage,

I grab the microphone.

The love from all those avid fans

rains down on me alone.

I launch into my favourite song,

I belt out the refrain.

The crowds are screaming out for more.

I take the mike again.

I’m really pumped, I raise the pitch,

I give it all I’ve got.

I’ve never known such warm applause,

I’m feeling pretty hot

until my mother calls my name

and interrupts my song:

“Your sister needs the bathroom now.

You’ve been there way too long!”


Jenny Erlanger

Poem of the Day

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                 The Yarn of Shaun the Sheep

Two Tasmanian farmers have found what they hope to prove is the world’s woolliest sheep. They believe it has been wandering wild for six years and never been shorn.

Peter and Netty Hazell discovered the animal, nicknamed Shaun, wandering on their farm and decided to take him in.

You ought to hear the yarn the folks are spinning

now the news is out both far and wide

about the Tassie wonder from down-under –

our Shaun the Sheep, the nation’s woolly pride.


Now Shaun was just a lamb six years ago

when fire came blazing near his eastern farm

and Shaun thought “Yikes! It’s time to do a runner.

If I stay put I’m sure to come to harm.”


So off he went to wander through the mountains

and live a lonesome life beneath the trees.

He didn’t fancy staying to be roasted.

He thought the better option was to freeze.


But no, he didn’t freeze. His woolly fleece

grew thicker by the day as he went west

and Shaun the Sheep became a walking doona

(a first-rate one – merino at its best).


and as the days and months and years went by

that fleece became so big it swallowed Shaun.

But then it chanced that Pete and Netty Hazell

were driving in their ute one autumn morn


and saw that fleece – or was it someone’s doona? –

abandoned in a hedge beyond the road.

They went to have a look. The doona bleated.

“Hey Pete! There’s something living in this load!”


Then sure enough they saw that doona move.

And as these folks were kind and tender-hearted

they took the creature home to sort it out,

and since that day the three have not been parted.


For Shaun the Sheep has learnt to live in style

and changed his name to Shaun the Superstar,

for Shaun was shorn and now he is a legend.

That fleece of his is famous near and far.


The Aussie owners say his wool is destined

to make at least three jumpers – superfine.

But if you check what’s told around the campfires

you’ll find an even better story-line.


It seems that in that famous Aussie fleece

there lurks a kind of magic super-power

and like a certain Aussie magic pudding

it keeps on growing bigger by the hour.


The latest count is now at thirty-five

new woolly garments! Now do you suppose

that yarn could make (if someone keeps on spinning)

the right stuff for an emperor’s new clothes?


© Kate O’neil




Poem of the Day


The oyster way


An irritating grain of sand

or pesky piece of grit,

it slips inside the oyster shell

and finds a place to sit.


The oyster greets the irksome pest,

confronts it face to face,

bestows it with a soft caress,

a silky, smooth embrace.


How wonderful our lives could be,

how great for me and you

if we could tackle obstacles

the way the oysters do.


We’d gather all those gritty bits

that grind in vicious swirls

then smooth and sculpture each in turn

to shape a string of pearls.



©  Jenny Erlanger


Poem of the Day


The House that Never Sleeps


Our house is a blinking one,

A winking, ever-thinking one,

At night when all the work is done,

Our house is standing by.


The laptop light is pulsing white

In case it’s needed in the night

To play a game or book a flight,

It’s always standing by.


The bright light on the video

Is glowing green, all set to go,

In case we want to watch a show,

It’s always standing by.


The red lights on the Xbox E,

The microwave, the smart TV,

All stab the dark impatiently,

Forever standing by.


Our house is ready all night long

To heat some food or play a song,

Till all the fossil fuels are gone,

Our house is standing by.


© Jill McDougall


Poem of the Day


Harvey’s Escape

Based on the reported escape of a bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier

by trampolining over the back fence of his yard.

(‘Odd Spot’, The Age, Melbourne, 16 June 2008)


Harvey liked to jump and bounce upon the trampoline

With frisky owners, little Bob, and teenage girl, Noreen.

He jumped and bounced, and bounced and jumped, steadily getting weary-er,

‘Come on, boy! Keep it up! Jumping’ll make you merrier!’

Exhausting Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.


Next day their mother called as they merrily bounced on the trampoline,

‘Come on kids! Come and say “Hello” to your Aunt Doreen!’

While Harvey bounced alone, his eyes were staring – getting bleary-er,

The day was hot, the sun so fiercely shining – becoming glary-er,

Blinding Harvey, the bouncing, squat Staffordshire bull-terrier.


Mum came out. ‘Get off, Harvey! Get off the trampoline!

The kids have gone with Aunt Doreen – please don’t make a scene.

Jump down! Rest! Good dog, Harvey! Now you’re looking cheerier.’

She went inside. Then, sitting there, soon the fencing barrier

Inspired Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.


‘Escape, escape!’ The dog jumped back and bounced on the trampoline.

‘I’ve thought of a marvellous way to fly and escape from this prison scene.’

He left the yard, propelled on high by a bounce upon his derriere,

Over the fence he flew, then tumbled, falling through the wisteria –

Freedom for Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.


Across a park and into a forest, goodbye to the trampoline.

Two people appeared, offering choice and both were smiling and keen.

‘Come with me, pick berries for market – I am the local berrier.’

‘Come with me, ride on the ferry – I am the local ferrier.’

‘Alternate days!’ barked Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.



By Edel Wignell