Rocky the Cocky
I admire you,
I really do.
But do you think
my head was made
as a perch
for a cockatoo?
Vanessa Proctor
Published in The Caterpillar, Issue 11 Winter 2015
Category Archives: Poem of the Day
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentA Girl’s Head
(after the poem, ‘A Boy’s Head’ by Miroslav Holub)
In it there is a dream
that was started
before she was born,
and there is a globe
with hemispheres
which shall be happy.
There is her own spacecraft,
a chosen dress
and pictures of her friends.
There are shining rings
and a maze of mirrors.
There is a diary
for surprise occasions.
There is a horse springing hooves
across the sky.
There is a sea
that tides and swells
and cannot be mapped.
There is untold hope
in that no equation exactly
fits a head.
Katherine Gallagher
(from Poetry Street 3 (Sale & Orme, 1991),
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #19
Katherine said: Looking back at Poetry Prompts, I thought about #19 with its buzz of questions. And I alighted on questions about what goes on in a girl’s head. Actually, I wrote this in response to Miroslav Holub’s poem ‘A Boy’s Head’. The thing about poetry, it usually asks more questions than it answers, but that’s useful.
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentThe picnic
Help! I’m in a pickle.
The pickle’s in a jar;
The jar is in a hamper
On the back seat of a car.
We’re going to a picnic
I don’t know what to do:
When they eat the pickles up,
I’ll be eaten, too.
This is a disaster.
They think it’s just a lark
To hear birds sing and nibble things
Down at the local park.
I’m really in a pickle;
I must get a message through.
If I can’t send this call for help,
I’ll be chomped in two!
Jessica Nelson
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32
Jessica said: I usually write poems in two stages. I’ll have an initial blaze of inspiration, during which most of the writing happens. Then I’ll let the writing stew over the following days (or weeks), making small changes until it feels right.Poem of the Day
Leave a commentWally’s Folly
My mate Wally had a collie that he gave the name of Molly
And he thought it would be jolly to pull Molly on a trolley,
But poor Molly, when she tried it, was determined not to ride it,
So that once it hit a bump, she decided she would jump.
Now when Molly left the trolley she soon showed me Wally’s folly,
For without the weight of Molly even faster went the trolley
And while Wally tried to race it, he was failing to outpace it,
So it quickly knocked him over, but with luck he fell on clover.
Soon he had a lick from Molly who felt sorry for poor Wally,
But both Wally and his collie just ignored the upturned trolley,
Then with Wally’s heels near bleeding and the collie always leading,
They went back to where they started and much wiser I departed.
Monty Edwards
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27
Monty says: The prompt had me thinking about the different breeds of dogs and their various temperaments. I then saw the possibilities for some humorous rhyme, featuring a gentle intelligent collie.
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentMr Pickle’s Pet Shop
At Mr Pickle’s pet shop the choice is quite extensive.
It’s mystical and magical and not at all expensive.
Meet hairy dogs and scary dogs and one that yawns and yawns.
And playing in a nearby cage meet baby unicorns.
Meet fluffy cats and scruffy cats and one that’s always smiling.
Descended from a Cheshire cat, she really is beguiling.
At Mr Pickle’s pet shop the choice is quite extensive.
It’s wacky, weird and wonderful and not at all expensive.
Sitting in a large top hat, magicians’ rabbits wait.
One elegant white rabbit keeps insisting that he’s late.
Meet brown rats, black rats and some you can’t approach.
One claims a distant relative pulled Cinderella’s coach.
At Mr Pickle’s pet shop the choice is quite extensive.
It’s awesome and amazing and it’s not at all expensive.
Meet scowling owls and sleeping owls perched in a plastic tree.
There’s one that winks at pussy cats. He’d like to go to sea.
Meet blind mice, Miami mice and mice who have no tails.
They run and squeak, play hide and seek and terrify the quails.
At Mr Pickle’s pet shop the choice is quite extensive.
It’s curious, chaotic and it’s not at all expensive.
Meet rare, red romping dragons. No one’s quite sure of their ages.
But Mr Pickle says they MUST be kept in fireproof cages.
Meet fruit bats, cute bats, a vampire bat called Guzzle.
And just in case he misbehaves, he has to wear a muzzle.
At Mr Pickle’s pet shop the choice is quite extensive.
It’s bold, bizarre and beautiful and not at all expensive.
Meet frogs who change to princes if they receive a kiss.
Meet friendly bugs who give you hugs and snakes who simply hiss.
If you deserve a special pet to tell your troubles to,
Please visit Mr Pickle’s shop and tell him I sent you.
At Mr Pickle’s pet shop the choice is quite extensive.
It’s fabulous and fanciful and not at all expensive.
Pat Simmons
First published by Thynks Publications in their anthology 50 Funny Poems for Children.
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentPoint to point
I got in a pickle the other day.
It was olive green
and bumpy skinned
and smelled quite strong
but I went along for the ride
even though it was damp and drippy inside
just so I could wink and say
I got in a pickle the other day.
Penny Szentkuti
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32
Penny said: This was a train of thought poem – see how I did that? – and I can’t quite get off the track now that I’ve got that image of riding in a pickle. I must have been influenced too by the heavy advertising at the moment about point to point transport.
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentShakira the Friendly Dog
I am a friendly yellow dog. Shakira is my name.
I’m always ready for a jog, go fetch or other game.
When I was only six weeks old, I came to live with Ben.
He wasn’t big enough to hold me but we’ve grown since then.
Now I’m his close assistant; he’s not ever on his own.
Where Ben goes, I’m consistently his loyal chaperone.
He’s never in the pool except I swim along beside,
And not a single night he’s slept without me by his side.
When we play football in the park, Ben’s always safe with me.
The bullies scatter at my bark; I guard him faithfully.
If we play cricket in the yard, the ball is mine to catch.
In all the world it would be hard to find a better match.
But recently there’s been a change. I’m not allowed upstairs
And Ben’s been acting kind of strange as if he hardly cares.
He doesn’t even want to play or run or swim right now.
I wish that I could find a way to turn time back somehow.
If I should whimper like a child each time he walks away
And maybe go a little wild, he might decide to stay.
I’ll throw my front paws on his chest and slobber on his face.
Then he’ll remember I’m the best friend that he can’t replace.
Oh no, my plan does not work well! Ben isn’t so impressed.
From his expression I can tell he must be slightly stressed.
My paw prints stamped his brand new shirt which shouldn’t make him shout.
Ben doesn’t mind a little dirt so what’s the fuss about?
‘Get down, Shakira,’ Ben commands. ‘Go over there and wait.’
He doesn’t seem to understand I’m telling him he’s great.
At this point, I see something new. Ben’s mum comes to the door.
She holds a bundle wrapped in blue I haven’t seen before.
‘He’s ready for the photo, Ben. His eyes are open wide.’
A grin undoes Ben’s frown and then he follows her inside.
I creep towards the open door. I peek into the room.
I tiptoe on the polished floor and sniff a sweet perfume.
Ben’s baby brother stares at me. I recognise his face
And as we’re gazing, suddenly, it all falls into place.
‘Shakira, girl,’ Ben calls, ‘Come here. You’re in the photo too.’
Instead of ONE dear boy, it’s clear, now I belong to TWO.
Sharon Hammad
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27 (Saffy)
Sharon said: I wrote this poem some time ago after meeting a friendly dog called Shakira at the beach. She looked just like Saffy.
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentBroccoli-Broccoli-
Higgeldy Pie . . .
For a balanced diet,
why don’t you try
Broccoli-Broccoli-
Higgeldy Pie?
Buy it by the basin
buy it by the jar,
buy it by the kilo
and sing oh la la.
Everyone says
it’ll make you strong —
a buccaneer will tell you
you can’t go wrong
with Broccoli-Broccoli-
Higgeldy Pie.
Come on, risk it,
it’s do or die . . .
Katherine Gallagher
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #29
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentDrum practice
The walls are pulsating,
the floor is vibrating,
I feel so awake and on fire.
Every thump, every boom
coming out of my room
has that wonderful power to inspire.
I love all the smashing,
the pounding, the crashing,
the air in my bedroom is ringing.
All the houses around
are alive with my sound,
every dog in the neighborhood’s singing.
From my window I see
people waving at me,
their heads are all nodding and shaking.
Every fist that they raise
is in obvious praise
of the marvelous music I’m making.
Now they’ve formed into groups,
into synchronized troops.
They must really love what I’m playing.
They’re stomping their feet
right in time with the beat.
I just wish I could hear what they’re saying.
Jenny Erlanger
First published in Countdown Magazine 2008
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentThe old cat
is no longer a biter, a fighter
a bouncer, a pouncer,
a mouser, a rouser.
Nothing is afraid of this
stay-at-home sleepyhead
furrer, purrer, lap warmer,
cozy cuddler in the corner.
Vanessa Proctor
First published in The School Magazine, Countdown, July 2016
Australian Children’s Poetry 