Rescue Dogs
On the radio,
I heard the news today,
There was a rush on dogs,
I pray they have good homes,
With love and stimulation,
Assisting their new owners,
To cope with isolation.
Shelters almost empty,
Which is wonderful I know,
But when this crisis ends,
Will it still be so?
There’s a question I ponder,
“Which is really true?”
Between the two of them,
“Who’s actually rescuing who?”.
Lilli Black Swan
Lilli Black Swan
has her best feathers on
and she’s never topsy-turvy
though the water’s quite curvy
©Katherine Gallagher
My Best Friend.
My best friend,
Has four paws,
He loves me heaps,
He has no claws.
He’s always there,
Right by my side,
Head on lap,
I’m full of pride.
He loves me,
Unconditionally,
I look at him,
And what I see,
Are loving eyes,
A wagging tail,
He’s my true friend,
And cannot fail.
THE YEAR OF THE PIG 2019
I’m a Pig! I’m a Pig! I am patient and kind
I’m not the smartest but I don’t mind.
I’m trustworthy, indulgent, with a big sense of humour
If they say I’m lazy, it’s only a rumour.
Pigs born at morning are moody but reckless
They leap before looking, sometimes they’re feckless.
Pigs born in the noon, now they fight with heart
As long as they’re helped a bit at the start.
Pigs born at night, they’re full of fight
They alone know how to do everything right.
But these traits can be varied according to age
They’re only true at a certain stage.
Boy Pigs for instance are low-key and trusting
Easily fooled, they may just take a dusting.
Girl pigs are gentle and mostly seek peace
They’re given to kindness and not to caprice.
Luck and good fortune may bless the Pig
With honest sincerity showing up big
Understanding and giving, never spiteful or mean
The Pig is a really fine Human Bein’!
Little Hands
Little hands,
Go everywhere,
From patting dogs,
To combing hair.
They draw and paint,
Or play with dolls,
Or little cars,
Or basket balls.
They hold ice-cream,
And lots of fruit,
Touch door knobs,
And soil to boot.
So little hands,
Need lots of care,
Plenty of washing,
So bad things aren’t shared
“Got to stop. Got to stop
and blow the dandelion clock.”
That’s what my best friend used to say.
And then we’d blow that clock away.
She’s moved-on to another town.
I’m left alone and feeling down.
I still think of the fun we had.
Our friendship made me very glad.
The dandelion’s flower-head
all golden-yellow, sunshine-fed
is made of many small florets
arranged all neatly in a set.
When fertilised by bugs and bees
each little flower forms a seed.
They all hold hands with hairy arms.
As though they make a friendship charm.
And so I play this little game.
Remembering my best friend’s name.
“Got to stop. Got to stop
and blow the dandelion clock.”
BooBoobook Owl
BooBookook Owl
doesn’t think twice
if she suddenly feels like
a meal of mice.
When she’s swooping about
you only feel the breeze
as she glides in and out
from her hollow in the trees.
Boobook Boobook
she calls through the night . . .
Boobook boobook
until it gets light.
© Katherine Gallagher
Australian Children’s Poetry 