”Cyrch a Chwta: a Challenge!” by James Aitchison with Teacher Notes

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Cyrch a Chwta: a Challenge!

My cat adores nothing more

Than salmon, whiting and flake.

And as for my Labrador,

He demands a juicy steak.

But they will not eat them raw —

I cook them, for heaven’s sake!

My parrot says I’m cuckoo.

What to do?  I need a break.

James Aitchison

Teachers’ notes:

God bless the Welsh!  Their fun poetic form, pronounced kirch a choota, requires:

  1. An octave stanza (eight lines)
  2. Seven syllables per line
  3. A choice of two rhyming patterns: aaaaaaba or abababcb; the big trick is Line 7, which has too cross-rhyme internally with Line 8, on either the third, fourth or fifth syllable!

 

In my poem above, the schematic is:

xxxxxxa

xxxxxxb

xxxxxxa

xxxxxxb

xxxxxxa

xxxxxxb

xxxxxxc

xxcxxxb

“April Fool” by Virginia Lowe

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April Fool

 

I’m looking for Spring

as so many do

for blossom and bulbs

shy violets hold dew

 

What greets me is change

Winds, rain and shine

It’s now Autumn here

but there’s no call to pine

 

There are strawberry guavas,

feijoas and pears

very few flowers

but no one much cares

 

We’d rather our garden

is brimming with fruit

There’ll be time in October

For Flora’s fair loot!

 

​Virginia Lowe

“Fruit Fest” by Julie Cahill

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Fruit Fest

Lenny Lemon and Lucy Lime
were actors in a pantomime
Oscar Orange and Melon Slice
agreed that would be very nice
so rounded up their fruity friends
Abby Apple, Banana Bend
Granny Smith and Coconut
attended practice, prepared to strutt
And when their play reached the stage
suitable for any age
they had forgotten one wee thing
there was no more fruit to hear them sing
no more apples to watch them prance
or watermelon to cheer their dance
So instead they changed their theatre play
to play itself, that fruitful day.

”Ball Games” by Ron Marsh

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BALL GAMES 

My sister’s in a netball team,

Where she is goal attack.

I prefer my football

I often play full back.

 

So throughout season,

On Thursday nights we train,

And then head off on Saturday,

To try to win our games.

“Balls Galore!” by Monty Edwards

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Balls Galore!

It all began  when we were small:

(Perhaps the time we first could crawl);

We learnt to chase a rolling ball!

 

We picked the ball up with our hand;

We dropped it and would watch it land.

It bounced on floors, but plopped on sand.

 

In time, we knew most balls were round,

Though even egg-shaped balls we found:

You’d see them at a football ground.

 

Then see more balls in other sport:

Bowled or pitched; hit, thrown and caught;

Struck with strength and aimed with thought.

 

Kickers kick them seeking goals;

Golfers putt them into holes:

Different balls for different roles!

 

Sizes, shapes and colours many,

Balls that cost a pretty penny,

Pity those who haven’t any!

 

Anyone with friend and ball,

Whether it be large or small,

Never should be bored at all.

“The Auskicker” by Stephanie Boase

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The Auskicker    (for Linclon)

 

Coloured bands around your wrist

Show you where to run.

Jerseys, boots and footy socks

Show the team you’re one.

 

Handball to your team mate,

Kick it if you can.

Try to get it through the gap

To the forward man.

 

And…

He takes a solid mark,

With the goal posts near!

Clap and cheer and pat his back

As the ball sails clear!

 

A goal, a goal!

A job well done!

The team all gather round

To celebrate his first goal kicked

And his joy in footy found!

“Stain” with Teacher Notes by JR Poulter

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“Handball Queen” by Chris Owen

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Handball Queen

 

Amber Green. Handball Queen.

Quickest hands you’ve ever seen.

Recess time you’ll find her there,

prowling round the handball square.

Who will play her? Who will dare?

 

Daniel Drover. Year 4. Brave.

Odds unlikely. Chances grave.

Green strikes forehand, like a cobra.

 

Dipping shot bamboozles Drover.

Ricochet. Green wins. Game over.

 

Amber Green. Handball Queen.

Undefeated. Best there’s been.

Recess time she’s waiting there,

ruler of the handball square.

Who can beat her? Who will dare?

Matthew Lockett. Year 6. Bruiser.

 

Playground bully. Put-down user.​​​

Green serves fast. A forehand rocket.

Lunging left he dives to block it.

Nose hits concrete.  Goodbye Lockett.

 

Amber Green. Handball Queen.

 

Reigning champion. Win machine.​​​​

Recess time she’s over there,

master of the handball square.

Who will face her? Who will dare?

 

Daisy Nguyen. Year 5. Plucky.

Daring. Fearless. Feeling lucky.

Green serves high and leaps to dunk it.

Nguyen pounces. Back hand. Sunk it.

Ball still bouncing. Green could flunk it.

Arm outstretched. A top-spin pass. Was it in?

There’s the siren. Back to class…

Daisy Nguyen. Lean and mean.

Undisputed Handball Queen.

After lunch you’ll find her there,

 

prowling round the handball square. ​​

Who will verse her? Who will dare?

Chris Owen 2018

“Bash and Flash” by Celia Berrell

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Bash and Flash

I’ve got a see-through bouncy ball

with little lights inside its core.

So when I bounce it on the ground

those lights all flash and spin around.

 

I think it’s got a battery

to give those lights some energy.

Then when it’s hit, it’s like a switch

that turns those lights on in a twitch.

 

They don’t stay on for very long

but every bounce will switch them on.

Unless the battery goes flat …

but my ball hasn’t got to that.

 

I want to see my ball in flight

and watch those pretty flashing lights

so bounce it hard, with all my might

upon the concrete drive at night.

 

My energy from that strong throw

means, at the point I let it go,

it’s got kinetic energy

that’s greater than just gravity.

 

And when my ball has hit the ground

some energy converts to sound.

Like rapping once upon a drum

it makes a bang and short soft hum.

 

I watched those lights flash as it zoomed

towards the starry sky and moon.

So do you think I set it free

to fly off for eternity?

 

Or will it soon return to me

attracted by Earth’s gravity?

The lights stopped flashing. All was black.

I didn’t see it coming back …

 

Until it hit me on the chin

then all those lights went flash and spin.

But while I held my jaw in pain

those pesky lights went out again!

 

I couldn’t find my flash new ball.

It must have travelled on a roll.

I’ll have to wait until it’s day

to find it so that we can play.

“A Chant for Our Team in the Grand Final” By Katherine Gallagher

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