Category Archives: Australian children’s poetry

In The Land Of Song by James Aitchison

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A valley in Wales

so green and clear,

no sign of the coal

mined near here.

A land of song,

where mining coal

destroyed its valleys

but not its soul.

Teacher’s note: Wales was once famous for its polluting coal mines.  Today we celebrate great Welsh singers such as Dame Shirley Bassey, Charlotte Church, Katherine Jenkins, Bonnie Tyler (Gaynor Sullivan), Sir Tom Jones and Sir Bryn Terfel, actor Richard Burton and poet Dylan Thomas.  The word “Eisteddfod” — a musical competition— is taken from the Welsh language which is still spoken. 

Zap, Crackle – Stop! by Celia Berrell

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It sounds like a cracker
each time a bug-zapper
electrocutes one of those insects.
To protect our meat pies
from pic-nicking flies,
that zapper is nowhere near perfect.

It’s a haphazard thug
killing mostly good bugs
important for plant pollination
plus millions of beetles
who never harm people.
It’s rather a sad situation.

Their UV light glow
won’t attract mosquitoes.
It’s CO2 breath mozzies seek.
So this gadget’s NO-GO
and, for those in the know,
it’s best to use bug spray with DEET.

Image compiled by Celia Berrell & Pixabay

My Word! by James Aitchison

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Shoes always come in pairs,

but pears don’t come in shoes.

And I know that my nose knows

how to make ah-choooooos.

Whales don’t come from Wales,

is it rite or is it right?

And who can tell the difference

between quiet or quite?

Angle grinders not ankle grinders,

it’s so easy to make a slip—

because English is really funny

and tries to make you trip.

The Isle of Skye by James Aitchison

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I dreamed one day I’d journey

over the sea to Skye,

and I did, on a modern ferry,

to where the crags reach high.

Like Bonnie Prince Charlie himself,

I had the hills to climb,

where songs and daring legends 

were born in the mists of time.

Eggcitement! by James Aitchison

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I hear a hip and hop,
it’s very, very near,
and I know who it is —
he comes this time of year.

I’ve never ever seen him
as he hastens here and there;
the Easter Bunny’s hiding eggs 
and he won’t tell us where. 

He puts them under bushes,
and up in trees somewhere,
but my friends and I will find them
and we’ll have lots to share!

Photo by Alexas Fotos

Bunny Diet Drops by Celia Berrell

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The Tjuntjun Cat by Stewart Ennis

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The Tjuntjun cat is a lonely cat,
and possibly,
the only cat
in Tjuntjuntjara.

For Tjuntjun is a dog town.
Not a mog town.
It’s the top dog town,
for miles around.
Even the coolest cat
will not be found
upon this doggone red hot ground
they call
Tjuntjuntjara.

Except this cat.

This Tjuntjun cat is a courageous cat,
a cautious, trepidatious cat.
For it is disadvantageous
to even be a cat
in Tjuntjuntjara.
In Tjuntjun it’s dogs that rule the roost.
They roam the streets,
play fast and loose
with the lives of any creature,
great or small,
that’s not a dog.

The Tjuntjun cat
must keep its cats eyes peeled.
It’s a battlefield
where every day
you’re a whisker away
from Death by Dog.
But this brave moggie’s
gonna make real sure
it don’t end up
as the plate du jour
at the Desert Dog Café.


No, the Tjuntjun cat
won’t be seen cat-nappin
while the Tjuntjun dogs
are out cat-trappin.
There can be no catnaps
til the cat-flap’s flappin
and the Tjuntjun cat’s
curled up on its cushion,
dreamin its dream
of revolution
in the alleyway.
When every pet
when every stray
when every cat’s
gonna have its day. . .
. . . in Tjuntjuntjara.

Tjuntjuntjara (sounds quite like Joon-Joon-Jarra) is a remote Aboriginal community in the Great Victoria Desert region of Western Australia (Photo: Stewart Ennis)

Forever And A Day by Warren Cox

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So still so cool so quiet
beneath our favourite tree.
A secret place the two of us,
just my dad and me.

Sheltered from the outside
by the stories he’d recite.
Magic words that lived on
in the tranquil dreams of night.

And I believed in magic.
Too young to comprehend.
Too innocent to think that
this – my world could ever end.

As we sat within the quiet.
“Please dad” I tried to say.

“Can we please sit here just like this,
forever and a day?”


He was trying hard to tell me
just why he couldn’t stay.
he said, “But I’ll still love you
forever and a day.”

“See – your mum and I have spoken
and I have to go away.
But I will always love you
forever and a day.”

I didn’t understand of course,
all that he had to say.
But I knew my heart would ache for him
forever and a day.

Spelling Time by Warren Cox

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My very favourite time in class
is when we’re having spelling.
‘Cause that’s the time our teacher’s face
turns red from constant yelling.

“Those words were in your homework.
Ten times you wrote them out.
This class will be the end of me.
Why must you make me shout?

I’ll telephone your parents.
Your nonsense will be ended.
I’ll send you to the Principal
and have you all suspended.

I’ll ban you from the library.
There’ll be no more free reading.
Until you prove to me that
with your homework you’re succeeding.

No class time toilet visits.
You’ll have to just be strong.
No music, art, or play time
when you get your spellings wrong.

By now the teacher’s pacing.
His breathing is quite fast.
And all the kids are placing bets
on how long he can last.

Then finally it’s over
and he sits down at his table.
We know he’d like to say some more
but right now he’s not able.

That’s when we all begin to clap
And “Bravo !” someone shouts.
We’ll all do better next time Sir.
Of that there are no doubts.

The teacher asks “You promise?
In that case I’ll stop yelling.”
Oh yes! My favourite time in class
is when we’re having spelling.

Henry The Mouse by Toni Newell

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Henry,
was a little mouse
Who lived in the basement
Of a very large house.
 
At night,
when the lights went out
Henry would surface
And wander about.

He’d go to the kitchen 
In search of some food
And eat what he fancied
Dependent on mood.

Sometimes,
He yearned for a little sweet
He’d raid the cupboard 
To find what to eat.

He’d spend the night
Collecting food
To take back to
His little brood.

Mrs Henry was 
Delighted to see 
All the goodies provided
For the family tea.

Henry was clever
And avoided the traps
That held peanut butter
And that’s why perhaps.

He wasn’t a fan
Of that particular spread
Which saved his life
Otherwise he’d be dead.

Henry had lived
In the house for five years
Had avoided the traps
Which was one of his fears.

So Henry continued
Whilst his family grew
But dwellings were shrinking
Need to find somewhere new.

So he sent his grown children
To the house next door
He helped them set up
Which was quite a big chore.

Now two happy families 
Live side by side
Mrs Henry and Henry
Are both filled with pride.