Poem of the Day

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Birthday Eve

by Nadine Cranenburgh

 

My presents are boxed up all brightly

I’m not sleepy, not even slightly

When I hear my dad snore

I’ll unwrap three or four

Then wrap them back up again tightly

Poem of the Day

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Waiting…

By Angelique  Brandt (14)

Waiting is the hardest part
Wondering if it’s going to start
Wondering what will be
Wondering if he will be there for me
Sleepless nights
Have to hold on tight
Don’t know what is going to happen
Hope it will be alright
The road to the hospital is long
But you have to stay strong
Seeing him lying there
Everything seems bare
Then everything is okay
And I can breathe again
And the weight is off my shoulders
And the sun is shining again
And he is there for me
Like he said he would be.

Poem of the Day

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How to Recognise a Poem (Your Own)

By Liana Joy Christensen 

 

You know

when you walk on a bush track at noon

the birds are hushed by heat

but down near your feet leaves rustle

and you smile to yourself

because another creature is near

it’s like that

 

You know

when you feel grumpy for days

nothing’s right and you don’t know why

then it shifts and fat drops of rain

kiss the dust on the pavement

the air is alive with possibilities

just before the water roars down

it’s like that

 

You know

when you get an ear worm

three or more words together

that tease you so much

you can’t get them out of your head

Sometimes it lasts for years

it’s like that

 

You know

when you ride barefoot in winter

and your feet slip off the pedals

and you stub your toes

the pain takes your breath away

it’s like that

 

You know

when your old best friend tells

their new best friend

your deepest, secret shame

and now everyone knows

Then, a universe away,

the cold coal of rage

becomes a diamond rhyme

it’s like that

 

You know

when you wake up from a dream

so luminous you rush to catch it

and though it slips through your net of words

the moth dust left behind on the mesh

glows softly for years to come

it’s like that

 

You know it’s like that

You know it’s like that

You know it’s like that

don’t you?

(Originally published in the US by Cicada, Vol 14, no 3, 2011 and later republished in Fremantle Press Performance Poets, 2013)

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BING BANG WALLOPY BOOM

by Allan Cropper

 

Bing bang wallopy boom

The marching band came in my room

Round and round and round my bed

Pounding pounding in my head

Bing bang wallopy boom

The marching band marched out my room

I never heard another peep

I closed my eyes and fell asleep

 

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The Trouble with Rain

By Nadine Cranenburgh

 

At Gran’s I have an awesome time

but when it rains and pours

I’d love to go and splash outside

and Gran keeps me indoors

 

‘Some kinds of rain don’t bother me’

says Grandma when I mope

‘Not every downpour spoils my day

umbrellas help me cope’

 

‘But there’s one kind of rain I hate

when I’ve forgot my ’brolly

and if get caught out in it

it makes me mad, by golly’

 

‘Gran, what’s this rain that gets your goat

and makes your humour fail

could it be the driving drops

that come before the hail?’

 

‘No that’s not it, I don’t mind those’

Gran answers with a frown

‘I don’t mind hail or sleet or snow

they never get me down’

 

‘So what?’ I ask, ‘What rain is this

that makes your undies twist?’

‘You really want to know?’ asks Gran

‘I’ll tell, since you insist’

 

‘The rain I hate and deeply loathe

is drizzle, feather-light

It soaks me so, I’ll catch my death

don’t laugh dear, I just might!’

 

‘But Gran,’ I say, ‘it’s drizzling now

please come outside with me

Put on your gumboots, coat and hat

we’ll have a ball, you’ll see!’

 

I splished and sploshed and mucked about

Gran laughed and joined in too

Then Gran said, ‘Well, that wasn’t bad’

and I said,

‘AR

-TI

-SHOO!’

Hot, Salty, Crunchy by N McMullin

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Hey you!

Stop staring at me like that!

Yeah, you!

I don’t like the way

You’re looking at me…

With your beady little eyes

And that sad cry of yours.

It doesn’t fool me,

Not one little bit.

Hey! Don’t you come any closer!

No way, pal, you’re just

Asking for trouble.

C’mon, quit your begging.

I know your type.

I’ll give you one,

And then all of your

Mates show up,

Demanding more…

Ah, no, cut with the crying.

Okay, then, maybe just one little…

Hot, salty, crunchy chip.

Aghhhhhh!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Brisbane West End Markets

by Anna Jacobson

 

Under a canopy of fig trees

we pass a busker, watch his hands dance

over the surface of the drum and hear

music— soft, warm, bright.

Honey sounds that take us past the

food stalls and hot Afghani bread filled

with leeks and onion. I follow behind a girl

who carries a white Persian cat. Its pampered

face peers over her shoulder at me.

 

Fred: A Fearful Fate by Prudence Marsh

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Fred: A Fearful Fate

The Terrible Tale of Lazy Fred who Starved to Death.
From Aesop’s Fable: The Grasshopper and the Ants.

Grasshopper Fred.

Dark green

Stripes of yellow

Could be seen.

Fred loved to

Hop!

Hop!

Hop!

In the warm summer sun!

Hopping!

Hopping!

Hopping!

Just so much fun!

 

Ants!

Ants!

Ants!

Small, busy and black.

Never the ones to slack!

Work!

Work!

Work!

Never the ones to shirk!

 

Fred said:

Why do you work all day?

I would rather play!

The Ants gave their reply:

We work in the summer heat.

We gather food to eat.

We store our winter Supply.

Without food we will die!

 

Winter came with frost and snow.

Where will poor Fred go?

The ants have locked their door!

Food?

Food?

Food?

No food anymore!

 

Poor Fred!

Stone dead!

 

What a marvelous treat!

Sausage rolls.

With grasshopper meat!

 

Providence U3A: March 16th 2015
Prudence Marsh is the nom-de-plume of the U3A DIY Poetry Group

 

 

Higgledy Piggledy by Allan Cropper

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HIGGLEDY PIGGLEDY

 by Allan Cropper

 

It’s a topsy turvy kind of day

My head is in a spin

What’s down is up, what’s up is down

I’m neither out nor in

I’ll try on lots of outfits

and brush and style my hair

It’s a topsy turvy kind of day

but I don’t really care

It’s a muddily fuddily way I feel

My head is in a fog

I think I’ll put my runners on

and go out for a jog

I’ll race the other joggers

to see if I can win

It’s a muddily fuddily way I feel

but comfy in my skin

It’s a higgledy piggledy afternoon

My head is in a cloud

I think I’ll put my headphones on

Play music way up loud

I’ll dance around my bedroom

where no one else can see

It’s a higgledy piggledy afternoon

and that’s just fine with me

 

Dinner Venue by Jenny Erlanger

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 We’re sitting on a picnic rug

beside our lemon tree.

We pass around the water jug

then start to eat our tea.

I’m staring at a Brussels sprout

with mounting discontent

When I suggested eating out

this wasn’t what I meant!