Category Archives: Australian children’s poetry

What’s A Saw For? by Celia Berrell

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A Sawfish has a flattened jaw
which points its mouth towards the floor.
That saw-like snout we can’t ignore –
but what’s that awesome saw-snout for?

A Sawfish wouldn’t roar or snore,
but could it use that saw to gore
or dig and poke prey near the floor,
could that be what that saw-snout’s for?

A Sawfish snout has scores and scores
of electronic sensing pores
detecting fish-food no-one saw
when water’s muddied more and more.

So now we know that saw’s contour
is something Sawfish will adore.
It helps them catch small fish galore.
And that’s what Sawfish snouts are for.

Photo from Pexels by Shuxuan Cao

October 4th is Sawfish Day. Sawfish numbers are sadly declining. Nowadays, sawfish are only reliably found near Florida USA and around northern Australia. Sawfish, like their shark relatives have a skeleton made of cartilage rather than bone. Question: how can you tell the difference between a sawfish and a sawshark? Answer: by looking at its gills. Sawfish gills are underneath their body, next to its mouth, while a sawshark’s gills are found on the side of its head.

Lidia by Edwina Smith

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Way up North
Where forest gums grow
Lidia waits and thinks
Grasping a branch
Seen only by chance
Perhaps if she blinks

Amongst the trees
Is where she lives
For most of the day and night
She comes down to feed
Or when there’s a need
And basks in morning light

She hunts on the ground
Where insects are found
Watching from way up a tree
A beetle crawls by
Which catches her eye
It scuttles along to flee

Lidia scamps down
To snatch some lunch
A meal well in view
But wouldn’t you know
She encounters a foe
To pass or pursue

No time to hide
She opens up wide
And spits a nasty hiss
Standing her ground
With a frightful sound
Such courage as this!

Locked in a stare
Neither could bare
To scrap or to slip
Lidia knows what to do
There’s plan number two
Her tail is nature’s whip!

But that’s not enough
She’ll need more bluff
To make herself look bigger
Knowing the drill
She fluffs up her frill
A very timely trigger

A second to spare
Neither will dare
To lunge or to bite
Lidia’s made to deceive
Then take her leave
Departing in full flight

A fiery display
She then runs away
With a rapid retreat
Look at her go!
Outpacing her foe
Sprinting on two feet

She runs up a tree
All safe and sound
But didn’t catch her dinner
With tricks up her sleeve
So hard to believe
Lidia’s come through a winner

Blending right in
Against the bark
She can wait and see
Watching the ground
Where insects are found
The place for her to be

High on a branch
She hopes for a chance
To catch a meal today
Below there’s a rustle
She’s ready to tussle
Luck has come her way

Down she flies in pursuit
Lidia now gives chase
But she’s far too swift and strong
So easily wins the race
A centipede! What a feed!
It’s really been her day
Up the tree to wait and see
And that’s where she’ll stay

Photo from Pexels by Detlef Bukowski

All Aboard? No Thanks! by James Aitchison

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Stop the train,

I want to get off —

that bridge looks a disaster!

It happened when

they had a flood

and the river ran much faster.

It twisted the rails,

it bent the bridge —

any train would roll and sway.

So until it’s fixed,

until it’s safe,

no more trains will pass this way! 

Rail bridge at Einasleigh, Gulf Country, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana

Cheating A Crocodile by James Aitchison

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First I saw bubbles —

just two or three —

breaking the surface

of the water near me.

And then into view

came the beast’s ugly snout —

“Crocodile!  Crocodile!”

the world heard me shout.

I ran up the bank

as it clambered ashore

and sat in the sun

where I’d been before.

When it opened its jaws,

I had a strong hunch —

if I hadn’t moved quickly,

I would have been lunch!

Freshwater crocodile, Cobbold Gorge, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana

Bees by Graham Seal

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Hear the humble bumble

of the buzzy wuzzy bees,

as they flitter and they flutter 

through the flowers and the trees.

Gathering in sweet pollen

to take home to their hive,

where they make the runny honey

that helps the whole world thrive.

Image from Pexels by Michael Hodgins

Monotreme On The Move by Meryl Brown Tobin

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Straw-coloured spines,
black tips laid back,
rotund creature waddles around garden.
It pokes its head into a plastic box,
rolls onto a large termite-tunnelled log,
climbs over it.
Heading towards a giant shell under a tap,
it stops to snuffle up ants.
Its long tubular snout searches the shell’s base.
At snout’s tip a tiny mouth appears, and
a long sticky tongue licks up cooling drops.

Image by Penny from Pixabay

Balloon by Meryl Brown Tobin

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Where’s My House by James Aitchison

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Every spring I lose my house —

it likes to disappear —

behind the flowers and bushes

that grow so fast round here.

No more bare old branches,

no more empty beds;

there’s greenery and colour

that everywhere turns heads.

Spring wakes up my garden,

puts magic in the air,

along with different scents

a-drifting here and there.

Springtime at an old miner’s cottage, Creswick, Victoria. Photo by Ginette Pestana

Little Little by Sara Patricia Kelly

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I love your little little feet
and your little little toes,
your little little shoes
that match with little clothes.

I love your little little legs
with little dumpling knees
which wibble wibble wobble
like little sticks of cheese.

I love the little little button
in the middle of your tummy,
I love your little little giggles
and little thoughts; so funny!

I love your little little teeth;
precious yoghurt pearls
and your little little furry brows
beneath your bouncy curls.

I love the little little sparkle
in your dolly dolly eyes.
I wonder, how your little mouth
lets out such gigantic cries?

Photo from Pexels by Pixabay

The Brown Box by Toni Newell

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There on the table
Infront of me
Sat a brown box
What could it be?
It hadn’t been wrapped
There was no bow
It looked very plain
At least I thought so.
Who put it there
I began to wonder
Should it be opened
What was the answer
I stood for a while
Contemplating the thought
Decided against it
My imagination caught.
I left the room
Returning again
My curiosity peaked
But it was all in vain.
The table was empty
It was no longer there
It seemed to have vanished
Into thin air.
I searched the room
It couldn’t be found
And in my head
Thoughts spun around.
Did I imagine
What I had seen
Was there a brown box
Or was it a dream?

Image by Anna from Pixabay