Little Hands
Little hands,
Go everywhere,
From patting dogs,
To combing hair.
They draw and paint,
Or play with dolls,
Or little cars,
Or basket balls.
They hold ice-cream,
And lots of fruit,
Touch door knobs,
And soil to boot.
So little hands,
Need lots of care,
Plenty of washing,
So bad things aren’t shared
“Got to stop. Got to stop
and blow the dandelion clock.”
That’s what my best friend used to say.
And then we’d blow that clock away.
She’s moved-on to another town.
I’m left alone and feeling down.
I still think of the fun we had.
Our friendship made me very glad.
The dandelion’s flower-head
all golden-yellow, sunshine-fed
is made of many small florets
arranged all neatly in a set.
When fertilised by bugs and bees
each little flower forms a seed.
They all hold hands with hairy arms.
As though they make a friendship charm.
And so I play this little game.
Remembering my best friend’s name.
“Got to stop. Got to stop
and blow the dandelion clock.”
BooBoobook Owl
BooBookook Owl
doesn’t think twice
if she suddenly feels like
a meal of mice.
When she’s swooping about
you only feel the breeze
as she glides in and out
from her hollow in the trees.
Boobook Boobook
she calls through the night . . .
Boobook boobook
until it gets light.
© Katherine Gallagher
I thought I saw a dinosaur,
Laying by a nest,
And in the nest were several eggs,
I counted six at best.
And next to it there were sat,
A young girl and a boy,
Both of whom were counting them,
Whilst looking full of joy.
The dinosaur didn’t move,
Looked on in quiet calm,
The children felt quite safe,
They wouldn’t come to harm.
But looking a little closer,
It seemed to make no sense,
Surely if they had been eggs,
She’d be nesting in her defence.
And then it did occur to me,
That they’d already hatched,
And it was only but a dream,
From a photo my mind had snatched
.
Mongoose
Oh mighty mongoose, your courage I admire:
To write of your deeds I never would tire.
A short-legged creature with a coarse-haired body,
Your coordination is not at all shoddy.
A fierce little warrior who lives in a burrow
You attack your prey as if there’s no tomorrow.
When dealing with rats and birds you are fearless,
And your snake-striking skills make you utterly peerless.
With the means to out-manoeuvre a cobra
It would be a fool who attempted to rob ya.
With reflexes as fast as any rocket
I never would dare to pick your pocket.
Your claws and teeth could de-value my denim;
And you’re never concerned with anti-venom.
But if I sat still and did not provoke you
Would you sit on my lap and allow me to stroke you?
Dear mongoose, from afar you have earned my respect.
I shall praise you and never show any neglect.
For a soul who tangles with snakes oh so avidly,
It’s all just as well you reproduce rapidly.
TUCKER TIME
“The fires were bad,
“I was very scared,”
The wombat said
To the kangaroo.
“I had to hop
“Ahead of the flames,”
The kanga said,
“But I got out too.”
“I got help from
“A human being,”
The wombat said
To the kangaroo.
“So did I, mate!”
The kangaroo smiled.
“I’m glad they knew
“What they had to do!”
HANDY HEALTH
I am a little virus,
I come from overseas.
At first I make you sniffle,
And then I make you sneeze.
My name is COVID-19,
I’ll make you very sick.
But if you wash your hands clean,
You can give me the flick.
Wash your hands with lots of soap
Or a sanitiser
That way you will guard your health,
And be smart and wiser!
Australian Children’s Poetry 