Alot Doesn’t Exist by Darren McErlain

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‘Twas a dark and stormy night among the horrible sixteen seas,

When the Pirate ship O’Hara, sailed into the dock of Fees.

It slammed into the port and jolted the ship ashore,

With sailors from the top deck attempting to break the law.

They took out a massive chainsaw and split the land in two,

By cutting a symmetrical pattern a new folklore grew and grew.

The traditional land of A lot was cut into two equal halves,

With two new entry points and stencil-crete ridden paths.

The two lands were divided and needed a name of their own,

So the Captain did some thinking, as the history has shown.

One land part was called “A” and was granted an official name,

Whilst the other land parcel called “LOT” had a symbol of a flame.

The two towns were now known as “A” and “Lot”,

And for teachers, this certainly hit the spot.

The town Alot became extinct, and was kicked off every map,

The word no longer existed – a new agreement signed in sap.

Wet Feet by James Aitchison

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See those trees

up to their knees

in the lake.

Branches bare,

no leaves to spare,

no boat’s wake

disturbs the sunken forest,

beneath a blazing sun,

so far from everyone,

the waters are at rest.

Lake Pamamaroo, Menindee.  Photo by Ginette Pestana

Teacher’s note: Nine mainly shallow lakes make up the Menindee Lakes on the Darling River in New South Wales.  Menindee was the first town established on the Darling, on the lands of the Barkindji people.  The nearest major city is Broken Hill.

Mussels Not Muscles by James Aitchison

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These mussels come from the sea,

they’re not in a leg or an arm.

They’re very fresh and tasty,

and their shells are part of their charm.

Dig into the the bowl for a feast,

and eat a dozen or two;

the only muscles you’ll need

are the ones that help you chew.

Image from Pixabay

Mr Whippy by Graham Seal

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When kids hear the ice cream van

tinkling through the streets,

they know that Mr Whippy

is bringing frozen treats.

When parents hear the music,

they know they’ll have to pay,

they’d rather Mr Whippy

did not come every day!

Image by Ralph from Pixabay

The Mysterious Marriage of Spacetime by Celia Berrell

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Time’s a kind of mystery,
not made of anything.
We treat it like a measurement.
A time-line piece of string.

But NOW-time can be different,
depending where things are.
We look back over many years
when gazing at a star.

The speed time passes, tick & tock
depends on where things go.
If gravity’s extremely strong
that tick & tock go slow.

Since Einstein showed us Spacetime,
THEN & THERE were surely wed.
And WHEN & WHERE got married too …
and share a Spacetime bed!

Image by dlsd cgl from Pixabay

Administrator/s Needed

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The Australian Children’s Poetry website is looking for a new administrator to manage and maintain this wonderful site. ACP promotes poetry for children, has almost 900 subscribers, and has been showcasing Australian poets and quality poetry since 2014. The site uses the WordPress. com platform and the domain name is managed through GoDaddy.

If you are interested and would like to know more please contact Kerry Gittins at ozchildrenspoetry@gmail.com

The Doctopus by James Aitchison

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If you’re a fish and you get sick,
who do you go and see?
The Doctopus will help you —
he’s your undersea GP.
He’s qualified to treat
watery infections,
and because he has eight hands,
he’ll give you eight injections.
From sore sardines and sneezing sharks
to tonsil-troubled tuna,
the Doctopus will fix you —
you’ll feel much better sooner.

Photo from Stockcake

The Flinders Ranges by James Aitchison

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The mighty ramparts rise above the plain,

where once the plains were sea.

And you might think how harsh it looks,

yet beautiful it seems to me.

A world of red soil, stone and silence,

of ancient legends told ’round fires,

of peace and fascination

to my tired city eyes.

Flinders Ranges, South Australia. Photo by Ginette Pestana

Water by James Aitchison

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When will water this way come
and fill this ancient creek?  
There’s been no rain hereabouts
for many a long, long week.

When drought breaks the creek will rush,
a torrent raging by,
but for now it’s turned to dust —
no clouds have blessed the sky.

While in the east, it’s flooding,
and towns and farms are lost.
Can these extremes of climate stop,
or has a line been crossed?

Dry creek bed, Flinders Ranges. Photo by Ginette Pestana

Dad’s Watching Footy by Linda Davidson

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“C’mon little Davo, the ball’s bounced and there’s no more waiting.”

I climb on the couch as my Dad begins explaining,
“Essendon, little Davo, is the team that we’ll be barracking.
You’ll see running and jumping and kicking and handballing.”
“Aha,” grins Dad – “Can you believe it’s now raining.”
The game goes on and no-one’s complaining.
It’s fun as I watch their clothes become muddy with staining.
“C’mon umpire, that’s holding the ball,” says Dad exclaiming.
“Pass the ball son, you’re not out there training.”

I think about telling Dad they can’t hear but decide it’s simpler refraining.
The Bombers scored a goal and now there’s ten minutes remaining.
Dad jumps out of his chair and screams, “That’s amazing!”
Dad’s so excited ‘cause now his team’s gaining.
The player looks high at the posts and kicks while aiming.
The Bombers have won and the crowd is dancing and waving.
My Dad thinks he’s there and is clapping and raving.

I look from my Dad to the screen and wonder which is more entertaining.

Photo by Linda Davidson