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Sunshine

 

Swaddle me in sunshine

sang the fairy child.

Weave me into forest,

tell me you have smiled.

 

Dance me tales of blossoms.

Look carefully for my signs.

Swaddle me in sunshine,

Now climb the magic vines.

 

Breathe me into spring time.

Search for the unseen.

Swaddle me in sunshine.

Cover trees in green

 

Swaddle me in sunshine,

when winter’s on her way.

Find for me some shelter

to keep the cold at bay.

June Perkins
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #15

June said: Today the muse visited – with that sunshine topic. Perhaps it was the approach of winter and a memory of my mum trying to convince me that fairies exist.

 

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THE MUSIC BOX

 

Tea for two, and a biscuit with Granny

giggles and games, I recall there were many

but clearest of all,

I recall the small music box.

Hidden inside, a tiny ballerina

waiting to dance there, in front of her mirror

at my beck and call

once I had unclipped the locks.

Lifting the lid, I would take a peak under

up she would pop, not so much as a blunder

though not very tall

she would stretch to the sky

pirouettes fashioned on blue satin lining

tutu pure white, in the limelight, there shining

I somehow recall

just for Granny and I

© Allan Cropper
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #16

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MY NANNA’S BAG

 

My Nanna’s arrival is a delight to see

But she’s only staying for afternoon tea.

 

She carries her coat and her umbrella furled

And the most exciting bag in the world.

 

She stands us in line for our hugs and kisses

And tells us how much she enjoys her visits.

 

After that she opens her bulging bag wide,

And out comes what she has packed inside.

 

First a chocolate cake for afternoon tea,

Liquorice and jelly beans for baby and me.

 

Then two jumpers, one blue and one pink,

One to wash and one to wear she says with a wink.

 

Out come some beads, a ball and two bats,

A doll and a pram and two calico cats.

 

Six pairs of crawlers made from old bedspreads,

And knitted striped beanies for everyone’s heads.

 

There’s a hammer and nails to mend the side fence,

Dad says now that’s a gift with plenty of sense.

 

Out comes a scooter and a skippy rope too,

And a most beautiful set of drums, brand new.

 

A bright crocheted rug to go on the bed,

Be lovely and warm, my mother said.

 

After the crayons, paints and a big picture book,

Nanna stopped delving so I had a good look.

 

Five peppermints and a half knitted sock remained

Nanna’s wonderful bag was empty and drained.

 

The grownups drank tea and ate most of the cake

Only smears and crumbs remained on that plate.

 

Nanna stood us in line for more hugs and kisses

And we all said how much we enjoyed her visits.

 

My Nanna took her coat and her umbrella furled,

And left with the emptiest bag in the world.

 

My Nanna’s departure was a very sad sight,

But she’ll be back to babysit Saturday night.

 

 

© Margaret Pearce

 

The Secret by Jill McDougall

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The Secret

 

Can you keep a secret? Good!

Cos this one’s super hot –

In my desk, amongst the mess,

I found a …. you-know-what.

 

Now promise you won’t tell a soul

Not even Mary-Lou,

I turned it round and then I found

A note from you-know-who.

 

I laughed so hard my tonsils ached

I thought I’d nearly die,

It must have happened you-know-when

Because of … you-know-why.

 

Now don’t you go and blab all this

To Rosie and her lot,

If you do, I’m warning you,

They’ll give us you-know-what.

 

Jill McDougall

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    Moonbeams

     

    The Sun is a star

    that is burning bright.

    Like a furnace

    that gives off heat and light.

     

    Like a beacon

    emitting sunshine rays.

    Like a torch in the sky

    changing nights to days.

     

    The Moon is a sphere

    made of silent rock.

    That orbits the Earth

    like a cold round block.

     

    No furnace or beacon.

    No torch to run.

    Those moonbeams have come

    from the headlight Sun.

     

    The Moon doesn’t shine!

    It reflects instead.

    Like cat’s-eyes at night

    on the road ahead.

     

    Like the glint of the Sun

    on a tranquil lake.

    Like your sparkling eyes

    when a smile you make.

    Celia Berrell
    • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #16

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    Moonlight

     

    The light of the moon

    On a clear clear night

    Brings out the Fish

    But not to bite

     

    Leaping out of the water

    Higher each time

    Teasing the fishermen

    Is not a fish crime?

     

    Meeting in the river

    Holding fish school

    Teaching the young ones

    How not to be fooled

     

    Big ones and small ones

    Middle-sized fish

    None of these beauties

    Will end up on a dish

     

    By the light of the moon

    On a bright clear night

    Not one fish caught

    Not one little bite

     

    Jeanie Axton
    • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #16

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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    Astronaut Muddle

     

    An astronaut spooned special pudding last night,

    For Hamish, Ramona, Christina and Dwight.

    The pudding had stardust and peppermint chips,

    With jellybeans, chocolate and icicle tips.

     

    The taste was delightful, the kids wanted more.

    They licked all the bowls clean and ran to the store.

    The astronaut followed, but fell in a puddle.

    His head hit a rock and he said in a muddle –

     

    “We need dusty stars, minty icicle beans,

    A packet of chips with some pepper and greens.”

    The kids crowded round him and said, “You’re confused,

    What you need’s a doctor, your head is quite bruised!”

     

    Lynette Oxley

     

    • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #14

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    Woops!

    There once was a poor ballerina

    Whose blue tutu was often much cleaner

    But she munched on a biscuit

    A blunder to risk it

    A Tim-Tam, a small misdemeanour.

     

    Pat Simmons
    • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17

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    Blue Ballerina

     

    I was a happy ballerina

    But now I’m feeling blue.

    If you had made this blunder,

    You’d be unhappy too.

     

    I was feeling rather peckish,

    So what did I do?

    I ate a crunchy biscuit.

    Now the crumbs are in my shoe!

     

    Ann Budden
    • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17

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    A Certain Platypus

     

    There was a certain platypus

    He lived in five mile creek,

    Who (prompted by the latest trend)

    Went vegan for a week.

     

    He tried butternut pumpkin cubes

    And purple eggplant too.

    He prodded peas with spoon and fork

    And sipped hot mushroom stew.

     

    He crunched on juicy celery,

    Gave artichokes a try,

    Sautéed leafy silver beet,

    And munched on broccoli.

     

    No doubt the fare was healthy,

    But it mostly went to waste,

    For those nutritious vegetables

    Just didn’t suit his taste.

     

    So he returned to worms and such

    To bugs and shrimp so fine,

    And left the vegetables to us;

    Omnivorous mankind.

     

    Lynelle Kendall
    • Inspired by Poetry prompt #9