Category Archives: Poem of the Day

Strange Creatures in the Night

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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 with Teacher Notes

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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

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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

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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

Melvin: the fool in the pool

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Melvin: the fool in the pool

 

 

Melvin McWhirter

had a water gun —

a super-size squirter

if I ever saw one!

 

One day in the pool

Melvin went barmy —

just by playing the fool,

he made a tsunami.

 

He squeezed the trigger

faster and faster;

the cascade grew bigger

and then came — disaster!

 

A wave so immense

swept Melvin from sight,

right over the back fence

and we don’t know his plight.

 

James Aitchison

 

 

 

Kookaburra Questions

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Kookaburra Questions

 

Are kookaburras having fun

By laughing long at everyone?

If so, I must have missed the joke,

But then, I’m not like clever folk.

The kookaburra laughs, it’s true,

But is it ‘cause they’re seeing you?

Although they laugh and make a noise.

The same is true of many boys!

 

So could his be a nervous laugh,

As strangers come along the path

That brings them underneath his tree

To point at him continually?

If people did the same to you

I’m sure you’d soon be nervous too

And should they seem to want to stay,

You’d flap your wings and fly away!

 

But out of reach and safe up there,

A kookaburra may not care,

He’ll watch us light a barbecue

And spot the steaks we’re cooking too.

For if a cook once leaves their task,

The kooka will not wait to ask,

But swiftly swoop to snatch some meat

And take it high above to eat!

 

I’ve learnt his laugh is just to say

To other birds: “You stay away.

Don’t trespass in my territory:

This tree I’ve chosen’s just for me!

So do not poke your beak in here:

My laugh has made that very clear,

But if you really want to share,

We birds can share air anywhere!

 

– Monty Edwards

 

 

Know your Eucalypts

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Know your Eucalypts

 

Red gum; snow gum

mountain ash and ghost gum.

Smooth bark; rough bark

stringy bark and ironbark.

 

Eucalypts are Aussie trees

with properties to fight disease.

Their slender crescent lolling leaves

will sigh upon a lazy breeze.

 

But just one thing we must refute:

although a “gumnut” sounds quite cute,

these trees have seeds in hardened suits.

They DON’T have nuts.

These trees have FRUIT!

by Celia Berrell

The Dreaming with Teacher Notes

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Australia – In Great Shape

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Australia has a lovely shape; it truly does look great.
Compared to any other land; there’s simply no debate.
I’ve studied maps in atlases, seen globes that spin around,
But nowhere on this planet can a better shape be found.
From north to south, from east to west, the outcome is quite clear.
Australia’s shape is just the best – so I will stay right here.

By Louise McCarthy

Fish and Chips

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Fish and Chips

 

Chips was a seagull,

His best friend was Fish,

Together they made their own

Favourite dish.

 

A real set of villains,

Wired to steal,

Swooping and snatching

From humans mid-meal.

 

They could have been heroes,

This larcenous pair,

But there was a problem;

They just couldn’t share.

 

The other seagulls,

Tired of scraps,

Began making plans

For tricks and for traps.

 

They held all their meetings

In secretive places,

Aboard mighty ships

With stowaway spaces.

 

Then Livingstone Seagull

Came up with a scheme,

To rid their fair beach

Of that greedy gull team.

 

They planned a great party

On one of the ships;

The two guests of honour

Would be Fish and Chips.

 

They were to be named

Joint “Bird of the Year”,

And they boarded the ship

To a gushing gull cheer.

 

On each of their heads

Was placed a gold crown,

Pretty but heavy,

Those crowns weighed them down.

 

The pair smiled and waved,

As proud as could be,

The party went on

As the ship sailed to sea.

 

Some seagulls made speeches

Which seemed sort of long,

Then Livingstone stood

And sang them a song.

 

Well Fish and Chips

Were tired by now,

“We really must fly,”

They said with a bow.

 

The others agreed

And flocked to the sky,

Shouting “So long”

“Adios” and “Good bye”.

 

But poor Fish and Chips

Were weighed to the ground,

Their heads had been glued

As they had been crowned.

 

And try as they might

To get them unstuck,

Those crowns were on tight;

They had run out of luck.

 

And as they sat glumly

Each one had a wish,

Fish wanted chips,

And Chips wanted fish.

 

By Kylie Covark