One day I saw a bottle that was lying on the sand.
I asked: “Why are you lying?” Then I grabbed it with my hand.
The bottle made no answer and it gave a glassy stare:
It clearly felt it had a right to spend time lying there.
I saw a drip form on its lip and thought it was a tear,
Which seemed to say: “Just go away and leave me lying here.”
But I’d been taught that lying was a serious sort of sin,
So straight away, without delay, the liar went in the bin!
Monty Edwards
Emu runs the fastest
when there’s nothing in the way.
Kangaroo has legs like springs
that bounce along all day.
Lizard keeps on going
when the sun is very hot.
Wombat gets through obstacles
when all the rest cannot.
Koala checks their timing
as the birds all cheer them on.
Platypus just watches
(as his legs aren’t very long).
And so they’ve planned their strategies
with calculated pace.
And as a team, their hopes on high,
they’ll WIN the relay race!
Apparently parrots, in parrot-like fashion,
repeat every word that you say,
but mocking birds shockingly mock with a passion,
a sarcastic mimic at play.
A lyre bird lies, and then tries to deny it,
hiding the truth from us all.
The crow lets us know he has nowhere to go,
by the long lazy tone of his call.
But the old kookaburra, such a cunning fella’,
don’t speak much, won’t sing us a song.
He just sees the humour in watching us humans,
and laughs at us all the day long.
My brain must have some spaces
Where secrets can be stored
And though I keep them hidden there
They cannot be ignored.
I think about them often,
Though no one else may know.
They come with me when I leave home,
No matter where I go.
I sometimes have to let them out –
They can be hard to store,
But when one secret is revealed
There soon may follow more.
To share them brings me great relief,
Since truth is hard to hide.
How special is a trusted friend
In whom we can confide!
Monty Edwards
A tranquil pond that’s glassy smooth
has surface tensioned skin un-grooved.
No creases spoil its surface layer
when peace and stillness fill the air.
Then one disturbance, pebble’s plop
an insect’s hop or stray raindrop,
creates a pattern we’ve just traced
to forces found in outer space.
Rippled wrinkles, round ornate
make circled waves that radiate
while rising, falling with the force
of gravity, which holds their course.
Space-time’s fabric will behave
in similar ways through gravity waves.
This rippled force from far beyond
makes patterns like our little pond.
Eight year olds
With needles in hand
Wool under arms
A little craft band
Sit in a circle
At lunch break
On the oval
Life is great
This craft of old
Will never die
With these mini grannies
Knitting on high
Jeanie Axton
Oh goose you fly so very high,
I wish that I could too.
Up up, up up, into the sky,
There’s nothing I can do.
I stand here wishing I’d grow wings,
I never hope for other things.
I dream at night that I’ve gained height,
And the earth is almost out of sight.
But here I am, stuck on the ground,
Never to be seen or found,
Up there with you oh goose,
For I am just a humble moose.
Oh moose as I look down below,
I notice you especially.
You graze the grass, you sip the lake,
You wander so majestically.
Your antlers have such symmetry,
They make a stunning crown.
Your fur hide, is a royal robe,
Magnificent though brown.
And since you simply cannot fly;
You’re never going to fledge,
I’ve bought a gift – an airline ticket,
With a dozen golden eggs.
So dream your dreams,
You never know just what you will achieve.
Many things are possible,
So long as you believe.
Louise McCarthy
There was shelter –
An upturned water tank
With an entrance hole —
My secret space
In the brittle summer bush
Where I’d hide,
Dark and bruised and splintered.
In those childhood days
I was an outlaw of sorts,
Travelling alone,
Not fitting anywhere,
Listening to cicadas throbbing
With song,
Beyond words,
Wanting nothing
But the arc of my mother’s arms
Dianne Bates
Australian Children’s Poetry 