The sunlight glints across the grass
Touched by frost to a white old age
Of sober tints that will not last.
Soon the mist and shadows will slowly fade
And winter’s cloak will drop again
For one last glimpse of summer’s glory
At the beginning of an autumn morning.
©
Margaret Pearce
Tick goes the clock and then it tocks,
My feet are warm in fluffy bed socks.
Slippered feet whisper across the floor
There’s a soft click as mum opens the door.
I roll myself over and wake in a wink
As teddy gives me a one eyed blink
I know that the best is yet to come –
The smell of toast and a rumble in my ‘tum.’
Steaming bowls of porridge will be ready to eat
Oh! I do hope I won’t have to find Grannies’ teeth!
My Hero
My hero is a gentleman.
Named Jimmy Arkell,
Who recently turned 98,
Has many a story to tell.
He was a country boy to start,
And moved into the city,
Where he gave away his heart,
To a girl who was so pretty.
He has survived two wars,
Widowed and lives alone,
Around the corner from a school,
From his very home.
He walks past nearly every day,
The kids all know his name,
They say, “Hello Jimmy”,
And he greets them just the same.
He’s truly an inspiration,
And he still drives his car,
He is vibrant and full of life,
He is a shining star.
Should I ever reach that age,
I wish that I could be,
Half the person that he is,
It’s what I wish for me.
Mal Kennington Malone
Mal Kennington Malone
wasn’t good at games.
His classmates always laughed
and called him names:
dumb-chum, drophead,
you silly billy shark –
biggest flapfingers
in Bladestone Park.
I think I’ll try running –
I know I’m not bad.
I could really show ‘em,
he told his Dad.
He trained and trained
around an old dirt track;
he trained every day,
ran to school and back.
He trained and trained
and ran like a hare,
even trained when it rained,
racing everywhere.
When sportsday came,
he was first off the mark,
became the fastest winner
in Bladestone Park.
©Katherine Gallagher
Her smile sweet cherry red
enticing
Honey suckle breath scented.
Indiscriminately
sharing her favours
with all.
And the ageing summer
Lingers,
A tedious bore to all.
©
Margaret Pearce
I could never hold the wisdom that this River Red Gum holds
I am simply not big enough, nor will I ever get so old
I sit amongst its roots and accept that I am small
Its branches frame the sky so I don’t have to hold it all
Its waxy leaves they twinkle in the sun and in the rain
They fall and die and rot and then become the tree again
Purple, orange, white, what will the sun paint you today?
While you conduct the life below with the pattern of your shade
Eggs of owls and parrots stowed in your secret nooks and cracks
Then when day meets night you bloom with your erratic flocks of tiny bats
I wish that I was you sometimes, I wish I was so solid
But here I am, a little seed, a mobile hominid (that means human)
I, not so sophisticated, bones wrapped up in skin
I leak, I break, I tear, I burn, I can’t grow back a limb!
I cannot sit so still to ride the Earth around its axis
But sitting still and wisdom are two things that I can practice
Hop, hip, hop, hop, hop,
Hip, hip, hip, hop, stop.
The Easter Bunny’s hip hop dance,
It’s quite a sight, I caught a glance.
It goes hop, hip, hop, hip, hop, hop,
Turns around, hip, hip, hop, stop,
Tosses chocolate from its hamper
Then does a rather silly scamper.
See if you can do this dance,
Why not hip hop – take a chance.
Everyone – young and old,
Viruses are tiny packs
of genes with DNA
all coated in a protein shell
and that is how they stay.
They cannot grow or reproduce.
They couldn’t win a fight,
until they find themselves a host.
Become a parasite.
For when its shell (or capsid) sticks
upon the right cell wall,
it penetrates its way inside.
Invaders one and all.
Inside the cell its coat dissolves
releasing all its genes
that force the cell to make lots more
of virus’s machines.
And when that cell’s exhausted and
its functioning has ceased,
its walls break down so hundreds
of the virus are released.
And they in turn find other cells
to replicate their kind.
An alien dictatorship
with just themselves in mind!
We haven’t found a medicine
to stop them in their tracks.
But being vaccinated primes
our bodies for attacks.
some others make us ill.
And some don’t do much harm at all
and never ever will.
In fact we think that some are friends
that helped us on our way
to owning our complexities
of genes and DNA.
When tracing back genetic codes
through evolution’s tree,
it seems that we are eight percent
of virus – you and me!
https://kids.britannica.com/kids/article/virus/390098
Count-up to Planet Bed
I’m one for the window
and two for the door.
I’m three for the ceiling
and four for the floor.
I’m five for the morning
and six for the night.
I’m seven for the stairs
and eight for the light.
I’m nine for a story
and ten for my bed.
Now I’m off for a dream
to hold in my head.
(Published in Toothpaste Trouble (ed. Nick Toczek, Macmillan, 2002)
If ever there was a time for poetry, it’s now
When people are unsure
Their minds alive with fear, routines undone,
Bring words of hope and words of beauty,
Bring words of comfort to everyone.
When people are confined
Their choices curtailed, plans put aside,
Bring words of light and words of strength,
Bring words of freedom to inspire
When people are frustrated,
Their tempers strained, their goodwill thin,
Bring words of laughter and words of peace
Bring words of love to hold within.
Australian Children’s Poetry 