Category Archives: Australian children’s poetry

“Closed doors” by Julie Cahill

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Mum, she slammed the door, she did.
‘No one’s going out!’
I scratched my head and wondered what the fuss was all about.
My mother often sent us out
so she could clean our mess.
Now our home is inside out with plonked in tardiness.
We play games we have never played
Lose pieces that are loose.
The jigsaw puzzle is in MORE bits
Soggy, with my juice.
The tv stations repeat repeats.
I turn myself away.
Good gracious, it’s as though it is
a winters’ rainy day.
But that’s okay, the storm will pass.
My mum screamed
‘really soon!’
She still believes in nonsence
like ‘the man upon the moon.’
I give that sly and sideways look
The one which she deserves.
But Mum’s a treat
When she hands out sweet
And cuddles with elbows curved.

“A silent Anzac Day” by James Aitchison

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“Anzac Day” by Toni Newell

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Anzac Day

In two thousand and twenty,

We will celebrate,

Anzac Day a different way,

And we can all participate.

We won’t be going to the shrineBut, in the morning at 5.55,

We’ll observe a minute’s silence,

At the very end of our drive.

We can all stand as a nation,

Honour those who fought the war,

Whilst fighting our own battle,

Against this virus so obscure.

“Lost Generation” by J. R. Poulter

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“Wheels Song” by Katherine Gallagher

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Wheels Song

 

I don’t know why I’ve got feet

when I could have had wheels,

for wheels go so much faster.

 

Imagine me flying down our street

not in my trainers or boots

but on wheels, with my ghetto-blaster.

 

Imagine people turning to stare

and all telling me to slow down

before I caused a disaster.

 

Imagine me gliding off into space

with a quick little nod to the Moon,

then simply going straight past her. . .

 

©Katherine Gallagher

“Survivor” by Louise McCarthy

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Dawn,

The honest sun

Discloses what the night would keep hidden –

A desolate scene,

Etched

In the consciousness

Of a living soldier,

Who prayed,

To see another day.

“HOPE” by June Perkins

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“Marathon” by Marque Dobrow

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The both of us, behind the door,

Me in my room, you in yours.

Firmer grows our friendship true

As from my bed I wave to you.

You see me from across the fence:

Our isolation consequence.

“Lockdown” is the word we hear,

Yet in your face I see no fear.

I’m looking forward to the day

When once again we both will play

Underneath the Southern sky,

No longer needing to ask why.

Staying safe with family,

Behind the doors it’s you and me.

And when tomorrow seems so long,

Your smile once more will keep me strong.

“Autumn” by Margaret Pearce

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The sunlight glints across the grass

Touched by frost to a white old age

Of sober tints that will not last.

Soon the mist and shadows will slowly fade

And winter’s cloak will drop again

For one last glimpse of summer’s glory

At the beginning of an autumn morning.

©

Margaret Pearce

“Morning – A poem for Annabel” by Margaret Brazzale

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Tick goes the clock and then it tocks,

My feet are warm in fluffy bed socks.

 

Slippered feet whisper across the floor

There’s a soft click as mum opens the door.

 

I roll myself over and wake in a wink

As teddy gives me a one eyed blink

 

I know that the best is yet to come –

The smell of toast and a rumble in my ‘tum.’

 

Steaming bowls of porridge will be ready to eat

Oh! I do hope I won’t have to find Grannies’ teeth!