Category Archives: Australian children’s poetry

Pure Mischief with Teacher Notes

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Teacher notes: Great ideas on using this poem in your classroom

Themes: rules, boundaries, pet care, living together harmoniously, thinking of others.

Classroom: Write a list of rules, explain why they would be good rules. Write a story or poem, or draw a picture about a funny ‘oopsie’ with a new pet or a younger sister or brother.

Discussion – Why do we have rules in the classroom, rules on the roads.

Why do we have laws?

What would happen if no one obeyed rules, if there were no boundaries, no laws or penalties for breaking them?

Cartoon Picnic by Lynelle Kendall

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I stepped into the cartoon frame

I lost my voice, I lost my name

I lost my third dimension too

Last of all – my hair turned blue.

 

I sat upon a picnic mat

With friends who were equally flat

Their world was bright and fancy free

Their cartoon food looked heavenly

 

But then I learnt – this frozen frame

Had left me motionless, in vain

I pulled my sandwich towards me

It did not budge – not one degree!

 

Stuck in starved exasperation

I wished I were an animation.

The Love of Eggs by Robyn Youl

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Mother Emu lays her eggs

Disdainfully walks away

Emu father tends their eggs

Turning each one every day

 

Echidna mums lay just one egg

In her pouch it hatches

When puggle starts to prickle

It’s evicted ‘cause it scratches

 

Mother Trapdoor loves her eggs

With silk she lines her nest

She sometimes gobbles up the dad

Mum Spider really does know best

 

Sea Horse Dads carry eggs in pouches

From eggs tiny foals break free

Sea Dads’ pouches stretch and stretch

Until Dads give birth in the open sea

A Book by Louise McCarthy

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A Book!

Book book, book book! exclaimed the hen.

Really!  I replied.

Book book, book book, she clucked again.

Book book, book book, she sighed.

A book, a book – I understand.

A book, a book – but what?

Book book, book book, book book, book book

Book book, book book, Book bok…

A book, a book – I’ll have a look.

I’ll see what I can find.

A book, a book – a classic  book,

This book, you will not mind.

So we sat under the claret ash with a book; the hen and me.

And I read till it was almost dark.

Then we went inside for tea.

 

 

The Way to Be by Jenny Erlanger

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Choose a comfy place to lie

beside your favourite tree.

Cast your eyes up to the sky

and cut your thinking free.

Watch the clouds that quietly drift

across a sheet of blue.

Savour this tremendous gift

from Nature straight to you.

 

Pay no heed to thought balloons,

release them one by one.

Fill your head instead with tunes

awakened by the sun –

chortles, whistles, trills and tweets,

a magpie’s sweet refrain,

Nature’s songs, melodic treats

to soothe a busy brain.

 

Feel the brush of breeze on skin

of gentle sun on face.

Shut your eyes and bask within

this moment’s soft embrace.

Relish feeling truly blessed,

relax beside your tree.

Give your mind a chance to rest.

It’s time to simply be.

 

Jenny Erlanger

A FROG IN THE BATHROOM

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A FROG IN THE BATHROOM

 

I saw a frog in the bathroom last night

It seemed to be staring right at me in fright

big toilet roll eyes on a porcelain face

just stared up at me with a look of disgrace

did not say a word, but he sat there and frowned

as though disapproving, did not make a sound.

I pressed on his nose as he stared with distrust,

and water gushed out as the toilet bowl flushed.

I wonder if I’ll ever see him again?

I wonder if next time he might bring a friend?

© Allan Cropper

The Jungle’s Chooky Robin Hood by Celia Berrell

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You have to love those scrub-fowl chooks

seen scratching in the forest’s nooks.

Like Robin and his Merry Men

they roam the jungle, cock and hen.

They’re dressed in dowdy blue and brown

while orange legs are bright low down.

And if you spot one, notice that

it wears a quiff-like Sherwood hat!

 

They build big nests of forest leaves;

communal giant compost heaps

to bury eggs and keep them warm

and hide them from the jungle’s harm.

And in the process, make a mess

of scattered leaves, continuous

that cover paths and walking trails

initiating human wails.

 

But most of all I love their calls

that echo through the wooded halls.

To some, it sounds like strangled kids

that shriek for help before they’re missed.

But night and day, their yodelling

is interspersed with chuckling

that signifies they’re happy chooks

despite their rather funny looks.

 

 

 

The Love of Eggs by Karen Hendriks

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Cluck, cluck, cluck

I’m a chicken.

I dig dirt,

And lay eggs all day.

 

Cluck, cluck, cluck

But today’s no ordinary day.

I have a massive problem.

An egg is stuck.

 

Cluck, cluck, cluck

It’s no ordinary egg.

I’ve created a square egg.

How do I get this egg out?

 

Cluck, cluck, cluck

My eyes are watering.

The egg’s stuck.

Some olive oil will do the trick.

 

Cluck, cluck, cluck

Phew the square egg’s out.

Chicken hall of fame for me.

One problem, I’ll never do it again.

 

 

by Karen Hendriks

 

Swerving Irving by James Aitchison

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Irving McDrane can fly a plane;

He flies it up and down again.

He flies by night, he flies by day,

Upside down or up the right way.

 

He loops the loop and barrel rolls,

Through the air he twists and scrolls,

Across the sky with great panache …

Look out, Irving — you’re going to crash!

 

 

SPLAT!

 

 

Irving McDrane can’t fly a plane;

Now he goes everywhere by train.

 

 

 

 

Springtime by Monty Edwards

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When people say: “Spring’s late this year!”

They must be wrong – that’s seems quite clear.

It always starts on one firm date,

So cannot possibly be late!

At school I’m sure that we rehearsed

That Spring begins September 1st.

If every year that does not change,

To say: “Spring’s late”, seems very strange.

 

But if you’re north of the equator,

Spring for you is six months later.

That would mean you are not here,

But in the other hemisphere.

September there’s not Spring at all:

It starts their Autumn or their Fall,

When trees’ green leaves may turn to brown

And from above come floating down.

 

Should someone say that Spring is late,

I do not start some great debate

And tell them what I learnt at school

And treat them like a silly fool,

Since change, for seasons, can be slow.

It’s warmth they want: their plants to grow,

Their flowers to bud and birds to sing.

Till that time comes, it won’t seem Spring.