Like an ancient herald’s call
Rustling leaves in autumn fall.
Though they whisper, never shout,
Yet their message leaves no doubt:
“Summer’s heat is on the wane,
Winter’s on the way again!”
Category Archives: Poem of the Day
“Autumn Leaves” by Toni Newell
Leave a commentAutumn Leaves
Autumns natural carpet,
Made of falling leaves,
Bold and bright colours,
A tapestry it weaves.
Trees feel lighter,
Branches open to the sun,
Absorbing its energy,
As sun’s rays rest upon.
Winter fast approaching,
Bear branches await,
The cold and the comfort,
When they can hibernate.
Annabel’s Painting and What I See – By Margaret Brazzale
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Sunrise bathing snow gums and a beautiful day to come
The taste of strawberry ice cream, cold upon my tongue
Busy bees humming on a pink, scented rose
Bubbles floating in the air and bursting on my nose
What a pretty picture to look at and admire
As I sit writing poetry lines beside the warm fire.
From Nanny
“Sunflowers” by Stephanie Boase
Leave a commentTwo little seeds
In one big pot.
I tend your needs,
And water at lot.
I wait and watch.
I’m happy to spy
Two little shoots
Emerge, by and by
A leaf or two,
And now there’s three!
It doesn’t take long
Before you’re up to my knee.
Standing up tall
You reach for the sun.
Large leaves spreading,
Two grow together as one.
Like twins you stand
Now past my waist.
You look so grand,
As you grow with haste.
Buds are forming,
I’m excited to see!
I wonder how big
Your faces will be.
“Curious clothes” by James Aitchison
Leave a commentCurious clothes
Cygnet’s singlets
are very white;
when they shrink
they’re very tight.
Do spiders were suspenders?
I think they really do.
They’re made of red elastic
in sizes 1 and 2.
“The Lazy Frog” by Monty Edwards
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I’m a green frog, serene frog,
A seldom ever seen frog,
Lolling on a lily pad and lazing in the shade.
For you see, I’ve found the knack
Of lying comfy on my back
And although you’ll think me slack,
I’ve got it made!
All is sweet now, complete now,
It’s time to rest my feet now,
Loving life on lily pads without a single care.
Ripples massage as I lie,
Looking blankly at the sky.
Who’s as lucky as am I
Found anywhere?
Something’s shifting! Oh, I’m drifting!
Now my lily pad is lifting!
It’s a duck that thinks I’m something nice to eat!
There’s no time to count to five,
I must leave and take a dive,
Since I’d like to stay alive
Complete with feet.
“Tornado Terror “– a sound poem by Julian Schirripa and Lisa McKibben
Leave a commentFirst, we hear on the horizon a low storm forming
– thunder rumble, roll and groan.
Lightning flashes inside fat storm clouds
– kssss, psssh, pppfffkkk, crack, sprack!
The wind starts whistling through the windows
– moaning oooooh oooooh OOOOOOH.
A wall of rain comes drumming, humming
– beating, tapping, pounding, lashing.
Tornado siren screams its warning
– wailing its deep screech of fear.
The twister yeets and hurls sharp objects
– hurtling, piercing, stabbing, wounding.
Missiles fire in all directions
– shooting, shelling, crashing, dashing.
Its funnel vacuums up the buildings
– whooshing, swooshing, sucking.
Playing with power lines like guitar strings
– twanging, plucking, snapping.
The noise is deafening
– thrashing, battering, skreeeeeeking.
Like fingernails on blackboards scratching
– like scraping sounds of forks on plates.
And just as suddenly, it vanishes
– debris is settling in the brush.
An eeriness descends, is it over?
– am I safe to go outside?
Huddled in the shelter listening
to the breathing and the pounding of our hearts.
The creak of the door as the shelter opens
– we witness silence, stillness, dread.
“Artistic Creation” by Toni Newell
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Artistic Creation
A box of coloured pencils,
Or watercolour paint,
Place together with a child,
There’ll be no complaint.
May get a little messy,
When creating at a table,
But art will be produced,
As much as they are as able.
Little need for guidance,
As imaginations flow,
Paint or pencil are applied,
And then there is the show.
A sharing of the art created,
By young and loving hands,
A glimpse into the future,
Of potential artists stands.
Australian Children’s Poetry 