We scrabble over sun
warmed rocks and peer into
rock pools. Small crabs scuttle
sideways, sea anemones wave
and we climb on further- feet slip
in rubber thongs and we glimpse
a squishy sea cucumber, silkworm
soft. In another pool lies a blue starfish.
We race to the ocean to cool our skin,
water so clear we see a large bream flick
its tail and swim off into the depths.
Elephants’ noses just growses and growses
Till they’re trumpy and trunky and long.
They can smell gone off cheese on an African breeze
When it’s left in a fridge in Hong Kong.
They can wash twenty buses without too much fusses
And pick up a forest of trees.
Their trunks are so long, when a cold comes along
Then it takes them an hour to sneeze.
They can tie them in knots – lots of knots, lots and lots.
They can hang from the hills in Burrundi.
They can tell smells apart – if you give them a fart
They will know what you’ve eaten last Monday.
Elephants’ trunks are so useful, me thunks.
Much more useful than our little snozzles.
And when they are dead and we dig up their heads
They make far much more interesting fozzils.
On my bike,
I pedal fast.
Building speed,
My heart swells,
The wind whirls,
Tugging at my clothes,
Whipping, snapping,
Ticking spokes,
Quicken down the hill.
I’m racing,
I’m in front.
Wibble, wobble,
I straighten in time.
Wiggle, squiggle,
I keep my line.
Low on the handle-bars.
Hang on,
Hunker down!
Jiggle, joggle,
I’m in the gravel!
Swish swoosh,
Look how fast I travel.
I’m flying,
I’m flying in the sky.
Up on my toes,
Pushing, pulling,
Puffing panting,
Legs burning,
Lungs bursting,
I see it,
I’m so close,
At last, my destination –
The ice-cream shop.
Someone said Celebrity News
wants to know what pet I’ll choose.
And since my choice will start a trend
around the world, my choice of friend
will take some very careful thought.
“A pet’s for life” is what we’re taught.
I’ve never liked domestic cats.
They have a guilty look – and that’s
because they slink too much. They move
too shiftily. Which goes to prove
they’re up to something. On the prowl.
And then at night… You’ve heard them howl!
They even make a yowling noise
when they want food or milk or toys.
And after these appalling rages
they eat, then slump, and sleep for ages.
Where’s the fun in that? I ask.
So now I’ve set myself the task
of looking for a better pet.
And, first things first, I’d like to get
a handsome one with stylish air
(to complement my fashion flair).
And then of course I think it should
be most adoring, loyal and good.
I’d like it to have attitude
but not too much – which would exclude
that other pest, the talking bird.
You won’t believe the things I’ve heard
some parrots say. They’ve got a cheek.
I tell them straight, “Go wash your beak
out. Use the soap, and don’t you ever
say such words again. No never.”
I simply wouldn’t take that risk.
I do like baby things that frisk,
like puppies, lambs and foals and such,
But when they’re older, not so much-
not when they lose that joyful spring.
And yes –there is another thing –
I like a pet that’s always clean,
So… maybe goldfish? I have seen
some gorgeous frilly ones. But no,
I’d like a pet who’ll join my show
and share the limelight. If it’s mine
it must be dazzling. It should shine
and be a star as bright as me.
Do you know what my pet should be?
Pardon? What would you suggest?
Do tell me what you think is best.
You think the wisest choice for me
is a large pet rock! Well, mission done
IF I can choose a diamond one.
How right you are. And for my part
I’ll love that rock with all my heart.
I’ll take it everywhere with me
and show it off for all to see.
How good of you to recommend
the perfect pet, a girl’s best friend.
Do not pat a cranky cat!
Do not jig with a pig!
Do not steal a seal!
Do not lick a chick!
Do not wear a llama’s ‘jamas!
Do not dine with swine!
Do not stare at a bear!
Do not smile at a crocodile!
Do not force a horse!
Do not pull a bull!
Do not twirl a girl!
Do not annoy a boy!
Silly Sammy couldn’t sleep,
try though he might.
He thought that there were monsters lurking
in the dark of night.
His dad had tried ‘most everything
to alleviate Sam’s fear;
he’d sprayed the place with monster spray
and checked the room was clear
but Sammy would still cry out
every now and then
and force his dad to search and spray
and check his room again.
There were no monsters, that’s for sure,
but Sammy couldn’t see
that things you look at in the dark
aren’t what they appear to be.
Shadows cast upon the wall
can make simple things look bad
and, so, it’s understandable
Sam sometimes calls for dad.
Plus, houses make a lot of noise
in the cooling night-time air
so it’s easy to imagine things
that aren’t actually there.
This brings us back to Sammy
who was still restless in his bed,
scared of monsters in his room
that were really in his head.
Then Sammy’s dad had an idea,
he knew just what to do.
Sammy loves his superheroes
– what if he could be one too?
He bought Sammy a special costume
for him to wear to bed;
no longer Silly Sammy
he was Super Sam instead.
There was no need to be afraid
of things like monsters now.
If Sammy ever caught one
he’d unleash a big KAPOW!
I’m woken by a presence
in the middle of the night.
I’d scream to get attention
but I’m paralysed with fright.
There’s something like a zombie
shuffling slowly round my bed.
Its eyes are staring wildly
from a vacant-looking head.
The figure edges closer.
and I’m just about to pray
then I recognise its features
and the terror drains away.
I’m glad it’s not a monster,
not some evil-minded creep
but I wish my little sister
wouldn’t wander in her sleep!
Facing.
The Bowler,
Streaks in.
Long limbed,
Powerful.
With intent, he glares at me.
Sweating.
Under my helmet.
I tap my bat.
Raised.
Ready.
Fixated on the Bowler’s hand.
An Umpire,
Yawns behind,
Darkened sunglasses.
Bored. Daydreaming.
A seagull cries
From the boundary.
The red ball,
Careers down.
An inside edge.
Caught by the Keeper.
They call for it.
HOWZAT!
The Umpire.
Stands motionless.
I feign innocence.
He hasn’t heard it.
No finger is raised.
And I silently thank the seagull.
by Sophie Masson
Hippogriff, hippogriff, where do you go?
I go to the city to put on a show.
Hippogriff, hippogriff, what will you do?
I’ll be the ringmaster, and here is my crew:
A dragon in top hat,
A werewolf acrobat,
A strongman, Mr Troll,
An elf who vaults the pole;
A phoenix on trapeze,
A goblin who rides fleas,
A witch to play the clown:
The circus comes to town!
I met a man I didn’t know
But he knew me from go to woe
Your name I think is Paris Post
He said deadpan as eggs on toast
You enjoy Pine and Mountain Breeze
A little wine and too much cheese
Your tan is Airbrush Number One
The colour of your hair is Plum
Who are you I asked by and by
Soothsayer? Psychic? Private eye?
No said the man, nothing so odd
Though mine is an interesting job
I move at dawn from house to house
Not quite as quiet as a mouse
And at each one I find a clue
To him and her and you and you
Strong and quick and light on my feet
I seize the secrets of the streets
I am without apologist …
Your neighbourhood garbologist!
Australian Children’s Poetry 