Barnaby’s clearly in love with my sister,
He cannot resist her.
I’ve seen how he’s kissed her.
She’s only been gone for a day but he’s missed her.
It’s time for a family chat.
Needless to say, my proposed intervention
will cause more dissension
than I care to mention
but I am the one who deserves the attention
since Barnaby’s my freaking cat.
With the eye in the back of his head
he sees them coming —
eight-year-old breakers,
baby-hard, baby-soft.
Their elegant space-machine
could swallow him,
drown him once and for all
in a dish of air.
They are the masters —
skills bred in the bone.
He freezes
as they expect
though a voice inside him squeaks
I . ..Words cut his tongue,
weigh in his mind
like a bruise.
(Published in Them & Us, Bodley Head, 1993)
As long as I live will I ever remember
Those bright eyes shining under the table,
Of a black and tan kelpie, who was silently saying:
“Will you be my friend? Can I be yours, too?
“Can we be friends?—yes! the best of. And if you
Love me, fun me, feed, and de-flea me,
I’ll guard and care for you, and ever be there,
For you’ll be my friend—yes!—and I’ll be yours, too.”
She was my ‘best of…’, and I loved her and kept her
Til, old, deaf and blind, she lay down and died.
Then gone were the walkies, my petting this pal,
But memories, good memories, will ever remain.
Memories, dear memories, so near and so dear,
Of a woofity pal who just wanted a friend.
Thanks, Mum, for Tammy, with her bright eyes so shining,
Who sat ’neath the table waiting for me.
I woke last night
And heard the rain
And as I lay there
Listening to the opera
That was the rain
And that the silence filled
A sense of gratitude
In my heart did grow
My bones still ached
And my hands so crooked
Stayed clawed and bent
Their toils outside
Were reaping a dividend
Plenty-fold and tonight
As I listen to that welcomed trespasser
I see my reward that awaits come dawn.
Sleep came again she did
Upon my weary limbs
My eyes, my mind, my heart
All heavy, so full and overflowing
Of all that life has been
And so dreams did come
And take me back to these blessed moments past
And I was young again
Till I woke at dawn to the sound of rain.
OVER IN THE JUNGLE — A SKIPPING RHYME
Over in the jungle
it’s the monkeys’ time for lunch.
They like to eat bananas,
they eat them by the bunch.
Father likes the yellow ones,
Mother likes the brown,
and Baby likes the green ones
munching upside down!
Rebecca Newman
Rebecca shared this lively skipping rhyme on her website early this year. She wrote it in celebration of the Chinese Year of the Monkey. Here’s the link: https://rebeccanewman.net.au/2016/02/08/a-monkey-skipping-rhyme/
Rebecca says: I really loved skipping rhymes as a child, and I loved the skipping part too, especially in a big crowd with two people turning the rope.
When the wind howls through the trees;
When you fear your feet will freeze;
When dark clouds obscure the sun;
Know that winter has begun.
Now’ s the time the days seem short;
Now a cold can soon be caught;
Now more frequent rain will fall;
It’s just winter – that is all.
Thunderstorms may come and go;
On high mountains there’ll be snow;
Frost may form upon the grass:
This is winter. It will pass.
Winter’s time for active play.
Grab your gear without delay!
Put your boots on! Join your team!
Soon much warmer it will seem!
If you’d rather play inside,
Indoor games wait to be tried.
With your family or a friend,
Boredom soon will quickly end.
Start a hobby and collect.
Fix a toy that someone wrecked.
Solve a puzzle. Draw or paint.
Clean your room. Your Mum will faint!
Drink hot chocolate by the fire.
Read an author you admire.
Whether you’re a girl or boy,
Don’t miss out on winter joy!
Author Comment: My aim in the poem was to help children think positively about winter, since despite its drawbacks and discomforts, these are temporary and the season still offers many opportunities for real enjoyment.
There is a special place in our hearts and souls
That can only be filled by someone
who instinctively understands us,
Loves us unconditionally,
Is never demanding of our love and attention
But is always grateful for it.
That’s why pets are family.
Sioban says: This piece was written for a friend after their dog died. Pets especially dogs are so the ultimate carers, they bring so much to our lives and expect so little in return. Cats on the other hand…..
There once was a postie called Progge
Who had a most wonderful dog
It could carry more letters
Than fifteen red setters
And he never got lost in the fog!
Sioban says: I wrote this in primary school after we learnt about limericks – and for some reason I have always remembered it!
Lace maker
Toils secretly
Tucked out of sight;
Creates ornate
Patterns
Until they’re just right.
Delicate, intricate
Handiwork done
Designer departs
To start
The next one.
Serrates, decorates
All my plants in this way.
I confess
I’m impressed
At this leaf lace display.
She twisted into awesome shapes,
her limbs like sticks of foam.
I wish someone had said you’re not
to try this out at home.
I should have stuck to juggling balls
or spinning plates instead.
It’s not much fun when both your legs
are stuck behind your head!
Australian Children’s Poetry 