Hey, Mr Sunshine,
where are you today?
Rain is falling heavily,
the sky is dark and grey.
All the kids are stuck inside
with nowhere to play.
Hey, Mr Sunshine,
please come back one day.
Hey, Mr Sunshine,
welcome back today.
The sky is blue and clear and bright,
the rain has gone away.
Now the kids can run outside
to laugh and sing and play.
Thanks, Mr Sunshine,
sure beats yesterday!
I can’t go out to play today,
it’s raining very hard.
And it rained the day before as well
and flooded my backyard.
My shoes are wet,
my socks are soaked,
my boots are green with mould —
I wonder how much water
this world of ours can hold?
Photo by Pixabay
Winter is upon us
It gets colder every day
I need a jacket on
To keep the cold away.
My warm pyjamas and
An extra blanket on the bed
A flannel pillow slip
Where I will rest my head.
Shorts become trousers
Thongs are put away
Tee shirts turn to jumpers
To keep the cold at bay.
Milk becomes hot chocolate
Salads become roast
And cereal is replaced
With honey on hot toast.
Trees are shedding leaves
In hibernation mode
Preparing for the winter
When growth is slowed.
Yes, winter is upon us
But is followed by the Spring
Warmth again is promised
A seasonal offering.
Photo from Pexels by Peter Frese
We’re on the train to Paris
and we’re going really fast!
I can see the needle climb,
as the scenery flashes past.
The ride is very smooth;
not a rattle, bump or shake.
It’s like the magic carpet
that Aladdin used to take.
We’ve almost reached three hundred
kilometres an hour;
there’s no train in Australia
that has this kind of power.
Teacher’s note: The distance from Bordeaux to Paris is around 500 kilometres. The fast train, leaving Bordeaux at 5.04 pm, arrives in Paris at 7.08 pm.
Where liquid water meets the air
it has a surface tension.
An outer layer of molecules
that all have strong attraction.
Water droplets round in shape
like beads will often form,
hanging on a cobweb’s threads
like jewels in the dawn.
And on a pond small insects simply
walk along its top.
Their tiny feet don’t break that layer.
Along the top they hop.
A raindrop on a window-pane
will slide towards the ground
as water is a fluid that
can easily move round.
It leaves behind a trailing tail
as it goes trickling past
because that surface tension makes
it stick upon the glass.
I like to pick out two big drops
and guess their moving pace
to see which one will trickle first
and win the window race.
Poem from The Science Rhymes Book. Illustration by Amy Sheehan
I woke up to a sound
Beating in my head
An imaginary tune
Which trumpets led.
I did not recognise
What vibrated in my ear
But moved instinctively
In pleasure it was clear.
A mist came over me
Like I was in a dream
Music became louder
Or so it seemed.
Guitars took the stage
A melody subdued
In this euphoria
I felt totally attuned.
The beat continued on
I embraced the melody
It took me to a special place
One that I could only see.
Photo from Pexels by Tim Mossholder
o boy, could that fat lady sing!
she sung a very special aria!
we didn’t know that she could wing
that complicated song, and look the star-ia!
but with her front teeth (and I sorely quote)
’twas rather she would whistle every note
so shrilly to the rafters of the hall,
it seemed her voice could magically enthrall,
o heavens above, it was not over
in this operatic swift manoeuvre
till the fat lady did whistle, or just sing!
but if it was a whistle, it was shrill,
and if a song, some sort of highland fling!
whatever it was, it was quite the thrill!
The morning mist lingers,
doesn’t want to go.
The air crackles,
overnight was zero.
I’ve stoked the fire,
boiled the tea,
a long cold day
awaits me.
Am I a cathedral —
or something finer?
Maybe a palace,
or an ocean liner?
Am I a museum,
studded with gold?
A famous art gallery
with pictures old?
The fact is, I’m nothing
much of a sensation.
I’m just the local
railway station!
(Teacher’s note: Kecskemet —pronounced KETCH-kem-ayt — is the eighth largest city in Hungary. It is located at the north of the Hungarian South Great Plain. In January, temperatures drop below zero; in July they average 22 degrees Celsius. The famous composer Zoltan Kodaly was born here. In the years under Communist rule, many public places such as railway stations were decorated to inspire awe and express the power of the State.)
Why do mothers have one date
on which we choose to celebrate
the love we feel for all they share;
for all their work; how much they care?
Throughout the year – on other days –
must we store our pride and praise?
Should we save our hugs and thanks
in special Honour Mother banks?
Are we meant to leave love locked
inside a vault, our feelings blocked,
until that Thanks Mum! payday nears,
rewarding Mother’s sweat and tears?
Mothers toil, protect, and nourish,
every day, to help us flourish.
Spoil your mum on Mother’s Day …
and All Year Round, in every way.
PJ Rodriguez
Australian Children’s Poetry 