Obstruction
It’s quarter to four
and you’re at the door –
I hear your tail thumping
and bumping the floor –
and while I’m delighted
that you’re so excited
to know that it’s time
to be reunited,
it would make me grin,
(in fact, we’d both win),
if you’d move a little
so that I could get in!
Jeremy James Johnson was a very naughty boy.
Fatty fried junk foods were all that he’d enjoy.
Now Jeremy had a little dog, his name was Mut
He sat under the table, his mouth never shut.
Mut liked cauliflour, carrots and celery stewed,
He ate every scrap because he just liked food.
So Jeremy was able to show a plate scraped clean,
And demand two helpings of chocolate ice cream.
He got away with this for month after month,
Jeremy got thinner and Mut strong and plump.
Jeremy looked at Mut who shared his day,
And saw how fast he ran around to play.
“Mut’s not tired and runs faster than me.
Why does he still have so much energy?’
His father with glee got to Jeremy at last.
“Mut eats all his vegies that’s why he’s fast.”
Jeremy James Johnson is now very very good.
He eats all his vegies as every child should.
And fatty fried foods make him feel very sick
Because Jeremy is now on a fitness kick.
Valentine Day was a lonely bloke,
Wherever he went, he was called a joke.
He parted his hair down the middle;
Under his arm he carried a fiddle.
His nose was big, his lips couldn’t smile,
The girls took one look and they ran a mile.
He couldn’t dance, and he couldn’t sing,
In fact, poor chap couldn’t do anything!
’Til the day he met a lonely girl,
On a chain round her neck she wore a pearl.
She parted her hair down the middle;
Under her arm she carried a fiddle.
Her nose was big, her lips couldn’t smile,
The boys took one look and they ran a mile.
She couldn’t dance and she couldn’t sing,
In fact, poor girl couldn’t do anything!
Valentine fell in love when they met;
Likewise Valentina — her heart was set.
Valentine asked, “Will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” she replied, “for the rest of my life!”
Love & Money
Love is like money.
We all want lots of it.
We know we deserve it,
so throw some our way!
Sometimes we win it
but often we lose it
or spend it unwisely,
regretting that day.
Some people find it
in rather strange places.
And some even steal it,
aware it’s not theirs.
Others may wear it.
Look radiant for it
while others invest it
and show that they care.
Some people hide it.
Forget how to find it.
They know it’s there somewhere
beneath many layers.
Gets taken for granted,
abused or just flaunted.
But you and I know
that we both like to share.
Road-side grass heads nodding
Mark the path
Echidna lumbers on oblivious
Virginia Lowe
ELIZABETH R.
Elizabeth the water-dragon,
known for short as Liz,
has royal tastes and habits
but a very ugly phiz.
Her head is deep and angular,
her crown a crest of spines,
and if you offer pleasantries
she snootily declines.
With the hide of a rhinoceros
and an awful lot of cheek,
her gall is quite incredible
(Be grateful she can’t speak.)
‘Good day your Royal Scaliness.
You’ve really got a nerve.
You think your sneer from ear to ear
is something I deserve?
I’m offering you a dainty morsel
fit for any queen.
No need to eye it with disdain
or vent your royal spleen.
Your Royal Ugliness must know
I understand your game.
For all your airs and arrogance
you’re hungry just the same.
I know that when I turn my back
you’ll snatch it greedily
then look as if you’re charging me
with crime – Lèse majesté?’
© Kate O’Neil
Strange Creatures in the Night.
I go outside and look around.
Bright lights, fast cars, quick pace, loud sounds.
Back indoors it’s just the same.
Electric noise; what is my aim?
Life is such a constant hustle;
A daily grind, a frightful bustle.
Round and round; a dizzy spin.
I wish to hear a dropping pin.
But what is this? The noise has stopped.
Oh dear! Oh no! The fridge switched off.
Computer, lights and radio,
Have all shut down – Why is it so?
Softly;
Quietly;
Peacefully; tiptoe.
I go outside.
It’s dark with just a hint of glimmer.
A full moon rises to meet the shimmer
Of a zillion stars in the southern sky.
I breathe in deep; let out a sigh.
At ease;
Laidback;
In a leisurely manner.
I begin to wander.
A rustling sound! I’m terrified!
I try to find a place to hide.
The moonlight shadows shapes are scary.
Bunyips! Help! – They’re big, they’re hairy!
I cannot move! I’m panic-stricken!
But wait I see the plot does thicken.
A possum treads across my feet and scurries up an old gum-tree.
It glances back; my heart skips beats: A brush tail not a bunyip! See.
Composedly I stumble on.
My fear almost entirely gone.
A chorus: calming; echoes rhyming; rhythmic, placid, soulful blues.
Ribbit; ribbit; ribbit; ribbit… I take note and I muse.
And then a shock! I want to cry.
The moon has fallen from the sky.
It’s landed in the billabong.
So this is why the sad frog song.
What can I do? How can I help?
“Boobook, boobook.” What’s that I yelp?
The Bunyip! Shh! The frogs go quiet.
Oh please I do not want to fight.
And then I see a silhouette. Against the moon… back in the sky?
An owl perched high up on a tree branch. Not a bunyip. Phew! I sigh.
The frogs resume their old refrain.
And still the moon shall wax and wane.
The hours pass. The moon sets west.
A digging sound. I need a rest.
I bumble round and find a seat.
Oh dear! Oh me! This seat’s got feet!
It is the end! I have been caught!
I sniff; I stutter… indeed I snort.
Then suddenly I’m flying high.
The bunyip’s tossed me to the sky.
And as I come back down to earth,
The view, it fills my soul with mirth.
My home, set there; quite near the wild.
This night adventure; I am beguiled…
Ouch! I land with such a thud.
A graceless splat into the mud.
The dawn arrives with a different sound.
But just for now I homeward bound.
And by the way, I meant to say
That seat with feet by light of day
Was not a bunyip but a wombat.
And no, I’m not an acrobat!
By Louise McCarthy
Monkey Mia
Word runs round the campsite
They’re in! They’re coming in!
Instantly the baking beach is crowded
We stand knee-high in sea
Yearning, stretching towards the horizon
Where the dolphins appear
A meeting, we trust, of minds
Eager as ours, for contact
For reaching across the species barrier
In love
They nudge our legs
We stroke their satiny sides
Well away from the eyes and
blow-hole vents
Each name age and relationship
Is learned from the dorsal fin
Distinctive, notched or bent
This is the larger part of the pod
Females and young
In supreme trust one mother
Allows her baby to come closer
Guarded and shepherded by its
big sister
To swim between the legs
Right at the shore
Oh little one! we greet it
With rapture
They leave
The beach is deserted, desolate
Under the searing sun,
the blusterous hot wind
We leave
Drive back through the bright jewels
Strung on their breathless chain of heat –
Stromatolites and Pinnacles aeons old
A gorge and its curving
Stone-carving river –
There is a snake, a lizard
And woe! a car-slaughtered emu
Leaving its life-long partner
Disconsolate
In Perth a small news item –
The dolphin baby is dead
Killed, it seems, by effluent from the camp
Oh little one!
It was our manure that was your doom
Home again
We bear bright cameos
Of beauty and strangeness and difference
Of wildness and creatures who trust
Of encounters with alien minds
Paid for by us with guilt and grief
Paid for by them with their lives.
Virginia Lowe
Notes by Jeanie Axton
This poem is an opportunity to discuss the environmental impact of Tourism. It was published in 1996. You could look at the changes that have been made in Tourism in Australia from then to protect the environment and our animal friends.
Here is a link to information on the current operation. Up to three rangers are on duty at any time and only selected people feed the dolphins.
http://www.australiascoralcoast.com/attractions-events/monkey-mia-dolphins
And a link to a YouTube clip:
Don’t Hug an Echidna
I kid ya not, Echidnas be
more strange than even you or me.
She digs a den and makes a nest
then lays an egg – like bird, not beast.
Now if you see her in the bush
don’t pick her up in loving rush.
As much as she might like a hug
to try it – well – you’d be a mug!
It’s not her teeth, her mouth’s too small.
Her snout is long, and so’s her tongue.
It’s not her claws, but DO take care.
They’re very big and like to dig.
It’s not the fur upon her belly
or beady eyes that look so merry.
It’s just her coat can never tickle.
It’s made of spikes that jab and prickle.
She’s very shy and curls up tight
whenever there’s a threat or fright.
And hidden in nest’s leafy muddle,
a hatching pudgy baby puggle.
by Celia Berrell
THE NOISE IN THE NIGHT
What’s that noise! What can it be?
A mouse, a rat, a twig, a tree…
A window shivering in the breeze?
A snore, a snort, a cough, a sneeze?
The noise – and there it goes again!
What a problem! What a pain!
To have to follow up that noise
And discover what’s the cause.
Why are these books upon the floor?
Just maybe I forgot before
To pick them up, to brush or sweep
Before I had to go to sleep.
What are those whiskers twitching there
Beside the couch, behind the chair?
Much too big for mouse or rat
A different shape to dog or cat?
A small pink nose, and dark round eyes
Staring at my great surprise,
The possum leaves its tiny cave
And hides behind the microwave!
It crouches to become quite small
As though it isn’t there at all;
But – sorry, possum – you can’t stay,
A kitchen’s not a place to play.
I left the window open wide,
Banana and apple close beside.
Stumbled to bed. A stretch, a yawn.
And in the morning, Poss had gone.
– Jaz Stutley
Australian Children’s Poetry 