Tufty Giraffe
Giraffe, giraffe,
a cow and calf.
Both have horns
called occicones
with tips
of hairy follicles.
This photograph
has baby calf
with horn-tufts
that have grown so long,
it looks as though
his hair’s gone wrong!
But male giraffes
use fighting crafts
where heads and horns
get bashed and worn.
Long hairs get snapped,
rubbed-off, impinged,
removing all that
flaunty fringe.
Read more giraffe facts here:
And watch two male giraffes fighting here:
It’s just a phase,
An episode,
A rebellious turn,
Part of the road.
It’s just a stage,
The youths are idle,
Unexpected –
You’ve lost the bridle,
Then you screech
“If I’ve told you once…”
The same old speech…
Like talking to the fence.
Suspended talk, mid litany –
You take a long, deep breath.
Then comes this weird epiphany,
And you storm off down the street!
Five hours later you reappear,
The family’s really missed you.
“We’re starving…” Yes – they make it clear,
Unplugging from their gadgets.
They tear away from cyberspace,
Reality’s for ancients.
But then they see you sitting there,
All calm – relaxed and quiet.
“Mum! What’s happened to your hair?
It really looks a riot!”
You deal a punk rock “I’m so cool” stare,
More striking than your monologue.
A flashback to those teenage years –
Rebellion seems a distant fog.
“Now listen…” And there’s not a sound,
Then the stylus hits the vinyl…
The record spins around and round,
Rebellion – punk revival.
Can you draw a tall giraffe,
Followed closely by her calf?
Make this mother twice as tall
As the calf, who’ll still be small.
Please be sure their necks are long:
No-one likes to get that wrong!
Give them spindly legs: quite thin,
Next put markings on their skin.
Make the ground beneath them flat;
Add some grass to go with that.
Not too lush though – rather sparse:
Let the earth show through the grass.
Each giraffe should face a tree
Where the leaves they eat will be.
Can they reach those leaves to eat?
Then your picture is complete!
Birds Eye View
Sitting on a branch up high,
In the Serengeti plain,
I spot a giraffe and her calf,
Crossing the dry terrain.
As a bird of prey,
They’re of little interest to me,
However, the calf looks hilarious,
He’s as funny as funny can be.
Galloping with an earnest face,
Long hair straight in the air,
I haven’t ever seen that before,
So, I thought I just might share.
Gum boots when it’s raining
Sports shoes when I’m training
Sparkly shoes for dancing
Riding boots for prancing
Sandals for a summer’s day
High heeled shoes for dress up play
Then sadly comes that time of year
When Mum says, ‘Let’s go shopping dear.
Your feet keep growing, time to choose
A nice new pair of (yuk!) School Shoes.’
Dandy dinosaurs dancing
Dreamy dinosaurs drinking
Dexterous dinosaurs dinking
Dainty dinosaurs dazzling
Devilish dinosaurs diving
Dozy dinosaurs dallying
Delicate dinosaurs dawdling
I’m a biker. I’m a hiker
and I love acrylic lycra.
I’m specific that acrylic
is the lycra that I like
for especially when biking
it is greatly to my liking
to be free to frisk and frolic
when I reach somewhere idyllic
and I get down from my bike.
And lycra that’s acrylic,
when the heat is diabolic,
just wicks away the wet
so there’s never trickling sweat
to upset the mood euphoric
when I reach a place bucolic
on a long laborious hike.
… or a day-trip on my bike.
That’s why acrylic lycra’s what I like.
My kite’s caught in a tree.
I don’t think that I’ll be getting it down.
If I climbed up and my foot slipped
I could hurt myself when I hit the ground.
It cost a pretty penny. It was worth it all I guess
because the time when it was flying is the time I call ‘best’
My kite’s caught in the tree.
You can watch it now as it flaps in the wind.
So it’s more or less like a flag these days
of a country where I once was king.
It cost a pretty penny. It was worth it all I guess
because the time when it was flying is the time I call ‘best’
I can see it in my mind as it was lifted to the sky.
I could feel it pull away as it started on its rise.
My kite’s caught in a tree
but one day I think that I might get it back.
And it might be faded and it may be torn
but I’m pretty sure I’ll be right with that.
It cost a pretty penny. It was worth it all I guess
because the time when it was flying is the time I call ‘best’
A snail once heard the story
Which is very often told:
“If you reach a rainbow’s ending,
You will find a pot of gold!”
This idea was most appealing,
(Since the snail was very poor)
And it left him with a feeling
That he couldn’t quite ignore.
Every day when it was raining,
But the clouds began to clear,
He would scan the sky for rainbows
In the hope one would appear.
Then at last he thought he saw one
In the garden hothouse glass!
To the spot he slowly hurried
Streaking silver through the grass.
But oh, what disappointment,
When he reached that special place!
For of golden coins or treasure,
He discovered not a trace.
As he turned to leave, discouraged,
Something caught his tearful eye
And a potted gold chrysanthemum
Proved the story was no lie.
Australian Children’s Poetry 