Our Home is Dirt by Sea

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The following is an interview conducted by Rebecca Newman of Alphabet Soup with Dianne (Di) Bates, the founder of Australian Children’s Poetry blog about an Australian children’s poetry anthology Di has compiled.

RN: You are the commissioning editor for a poetry anthology for children coming out with Walker Books. What was your role in the book?                                                                                                                                                                                                   DB:I spent many hours finding poems which were written by Australians and which would suit the themes I’d decided on for the anthology (such as sport, families, being a kid). I had to record the source of each poem (if it was in a single poet collection, an anthology, a magazine or if it was unpublished). I also tracked down contact addresses of the poets, gave the anthology a title (Our Home is Dirt by Sea) and then had to find a publisher for the whole anthology. This all sounds easy, but it took me several years.

RN: There are a lot of poems in an anthology. Do all the poets get paid if they have a poem published in an anthology?

DB: Yes, poets are paid. As the editor, I get paid, as well. Unfortunately the publisher couldn’t include all the poems I wanted, because of financial limitations.

RN: Does an editor ever change the words in a poem once it’s accepted for an anthology? Does the poet have a say in any changes?

DB: I would never change the words — or the punctuation — in a poem without approval from the poet. I didn’t change any of the poems in my anthology.

RN: Can you tell us a bit about the upcoming anthology? DB: Titled Our Home is Dirt by Sea, the anthology consists of 60 poems in the following categories: Australia, Mostly Me, Families, People, Animals, Sport, School, and Special Times. A few of the poems are lyrical, some make children think and some are humorous, but all are child-friendly and relatively short. The style of poems ranges from rhyming verse to free verse. I aimed for poems which make the reader feel some emotion when reading them, and for children to ‘see’ themselves or the world around them. Some of the poets are well-known such as Steven Herrick, Elizabeth Honey, Doug McLeod and Max Fatchen, but others are lesser known (to children) such as Robert Adamson, Kyle Seeburg, Andrew Leggett and Rodney Hall. I have also compiled two other children’s poetry anthologies, but they are so far unpublished. And I’ve published a book of mad verse for children titled Erky Perky Silly Stuff (Five Senses Education).

RN: Do you write poetry yourself? (Does that help when you are selecting poems for an anthology?)

DB: Yes, I do write poems, but I don’t consider myself a very good poet. There are none of my poems in Our Home is Dirt by Sea, though there are a few by my husband, Bill Condon (who has published three collections). I know a lot about poetry from having a life-long love of poetry, teaching verse speaking, performing poetry and reading extensively. I’ve also run children’s poetry competitions and have a blog, Australian Children’s Poetry which showcases Australian children’s poets.

Poem of the Day

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Cats in the Toilet Paper

 

What’s that scurrying about?

It’s the sound of tiny paws

The cats are along the hallway

What’s that between their claws?

 

Oh no!  It’s the toilet paper

That they’re dragging behind

Along the wooden hallway

And over the kitchen blind

 

There’s toilet paper everywhere

They’ve left nothing bare

The cats have left a trail

While travelling without a care

 

Now someone is shouting.

Oh no! It’s my Dad

He’s covered in toilet paper

And does look rather mad

 

Something’s moving toward me

Skidding on the floor

It’s Hans, our cute puppy

With paper around a paw

 

The cats have been everywhere

Around light shades and plants

Toilet paper’s hanging in cupboards

Around our clothes and underpants

 

The cats have gone outside

Paper is wrapped around a pole

There seems a lot of paper

Oh no!  They’ve got another roll.

 

© Helen Ross

First published in Helen’s poetry collection, Bubble Gum Trouble and Other Giggle Poems published by Little Steps Publishing (Division of New Frontier) 2009.

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Easter thief

 

Tell me, Buster, tell me who

would want to rob a kid?

How could someone ever do

what this offender did?

 

Help me, Buster, use your snout,

your super sense of smell.

Sniff the thoughtless scoundrel out

and I’ll reward you well.

 

Sit up, Buster, take those paws

away from round your ears

Why the sudden droopy jaws,

the hint of doggy tears?

 

Why the worried-looking brow,

the tail between the legs…?

Naughty Buster, fess up now.

It’s you who stole my eggs!

 

©  Jenny Erlanger

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The Magic Word

 

“May I go and play?”

Do you know the magic word?

“Is it Sesame?”

No, don’t be so absurd

 

“Mum, can I go?

I won’t be very late.”

Only if you know the password

can you go beyond that gate

 

“But all my friends are waiting

I haven’t time for games”

Do you know the magic word?

“No, I don’t know of any names.”

 

Well then you stay at home

“Oh Mum, I promised I’d be on my way”

Then say the magic word

or inside you’ll have to stay

 

“Mum, I have to go

I promised I’d first meet Kate”

“P-L-E-A-S-E Mum”

Yes, now go before you’re late.

 

© Helen Ross

First published in Helen’s poetry collection, Bubble Gum Trouble and Other Giggle Poems published by Little Steps Publishing (Division of New Frontier) 2009.

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Sally’s Secret

 

Sally McPhee’s a collector of keys

She keeps them concealed in a drawer.

Some she has found just lying around

But several she stole from next door.

 

She has keys that lock windows

And keys for the shed.

She’s got keys for some diaries

She hasn’t yet read.

 

She has keys for a money box

Owned by her brother

And keys for the Volvo

Misplaced by her mother.

 

She has keys for a tool box

Her father’s great treasure.

To see him in search mode

Gives Sally such pleasure.

 

She has keys that are ancient

And keys that are new

Well, people are careless

That’s Miss Sally’s view.

 

Sally McPhee’s a collector of keys

She keeps them concealed in a drawer.

Her intention is clear

That year after year

She’s  going to collect hundreds more.

 

Pat Simmons © 2014

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Diving In

 

Diving in on a dark and fog-drowned morning

my heart snaps shut and still —

frozen like the scream in my throat.

Sea monsters rise from deep below to brush against my legs.

I’m too terrified to look down in case they’re looking up.

Straight into my eyes.

I strike out hard, splashing and kicking,

to stop from being drowned

by my imagination.

 

© Bill Condon

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Time

Time controls each minute.

Every hour and every day.

From a Time to be born.

To a Time to be carried away.

 

For nine months

Mary gave God Time.

Alone she carried within,

The Infant Divine

 

Three wise men

Followed a star till dawn.

Trekked wearily through Time,

To see the Christ Child Born.

 

Christmas is a special Time

At different times

Around our spinning Earth.

A special Time indeed

To celebrate Christ’s birth.

 

Time is such a special gift.

We need so much each day.

This is the gift I offer you,

To help you on your way.

 

You dwell within my heart

Family, you are mine

Pray accept this gift of love

Let me give my Time.

 

© Robyn Youl

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Farmyard Band

The cow was playing cowbells,
Giddy Goat joined in on his guitar,
The horse was hoofing bongo drums,
Animals started coming from afar.
The chicken clucked an egg out,
Pig was oinking right in time,
Duck was tinkling on her triangle
While dog was hammering on his chime.
Pussy picked up her piccolo,
Goose was flapping on his flute,
Donkey brayed on a big trombone,
It really was a farmyard hoot.

© John Williams

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Barefoot

 
Days are longer. Getting warmer.
Sun is higher overhead.
Restless toes begin their twitching.
Barefoot days not far ahead.

At last December comes around.
Summer holidays are here.
That’s when toes come out to play.
That’s the time when feet go bare.

Let’s all run across the grass.
But do look out for bindi eyes.
Ow! Ow! Ouch! They’re everywhere.
Hear our barefoot bindi cries.

Watch us dance the bindi ballet
Quick steps, big steps on our toes.
Hidden prickles keep us leaping
if we step where bindi grows.

Best of all are barefoot beach-days
racing on the summer sand.
Ow! It’s hot! Run to the water.
Run to the edge. Whew! See us stand

doing the barefoot wet-sand wiggle.
See us sink on toes that squirm
down through clouds of sand and shells,
ankles wrapped in swirling foam.

Barefoot days pass far too quickly.
Back-to-school time soon comes round.
But think how much our feet are learning
walking barefoot on the ground.

 
© Kate O’Neil

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The Adventures of Buck the Easter Bilby: Buck Saves Easter

Buck the Bilby, on his way,
Came hopping through the bush one day,
His Easter vest looked oh, so bold,
In dashing green and glistening gold.
On his back, a duffle bag,
Held snacks, supplies and rolled-up swag,
And firm within his tiny clutch,
A basket FULL of eggs and such!
.
Born and raised in Pilbara’s west,
Buck passed the Easter Bilby test,
He’d trained to work in rain and sun,
To make the yearly Queensland run.
He shivered in the autumn breeze,
That rustled the acacia trees,
Then ate some seeds and burrowed deep,
To have his midday bilby sleep.

Buck awoke, refreshed and ready,
Swag rolled up and basket steady,
“Best be off, the sun is low,
Goodbye Pilbara! Off I go!”
He had an extra stop to plan,
Before his Easter run began,
A birthday bash for his best mate,
“No time to waste, I can’t be late”.

So on he hopped, all through the night,
Past the Great Australian Bight,
He kept his bounty, safe and sound,
As he travelled, Queensland bound,
Buck neared the Great Dividing Range,
To find a landscape, new and strange –
The desert plains he’d known since birth,
Replaced by mounds, of rugged earth.

With breaking dawn, he came to reach,
A small, secluded, private beach,
And just beyond, he saw the house,
Of Marty, the marsupial mouse.
Marty knew Buck’s best friend well,
A nifty numbat, known as Nell,
And this year for her special day,
They’d planned a party, by the bay

Marty stepped onto his porch,
To light Buck’s pathway, with a torch,
“Come on in mate, glad you’re here,
This is your busy time of year”.
Buck hopped to Marty, shook his paw,
And left his basket, at the door,
He stepped into a festive mood,
With icy drinks, and scrumptious food!

All of Nell’s good friends were there,
Icing cake, with extra care,
Hanging streamers, playing tunes,
Blowing up big, round balloons.
“This surprise will be the best!”
Said Marty, to his party guests,
“It’s nearly time Buck – watch outside.
Turn out the lights, it’s time to hide!”

And hide they did, all quiet until,
Nell’s footsteps broke the silence still,
“She’s here!” said Buck, “Get ready guys,
When Nell walks in, we’ll yell ‘surprise!’”
“Hello?” called Nell, peaking inside,
“Surprise!” her hidden friends all cried.
The lights came on, her friends appeared,
“Happy Birthday Nell!” they cheered.

Full of joy, Nell clapped her paws,
And danced around the timber floors,
“Thanks so much”, she said to Marty,
“What a perfect birthday party!”
First Nell opened gifts galore,
Then lit a bonfire by the shore,
They all enjoyed their favourite games,
And toasted marshmallows in the flames.

Later, at the party’s end,
Buck went inside with all his friends.
Marty made up extra beds,
To rest their tired and weary heads.
Buck, of course, was feeling worn,
But had to rise, at crack of dawn,
Tomorrow just as he had planned,
He’d drop off eggs, to all Queensland!

When morning light, replaced moonbeams,
The sun stirred Buck, from his sweet dreams,
“It’s Saturday, I must depart,
Today my egg run’s due to start!”
He yawned and stretched his rested legs,
Then hopped outside to fetch his eggs,
His face so sad, he could not mask it,
Buck had lost his Easter basket!

“Wake up, wake up!” the Bilby cried,
“I left my basket, just outside,
Now it’s gone, without a trace”,
He said, as tears ran down his face.
His furry friends came running out,
Responding to the Bilby’s shout,
Nell smiled at Buck, “It’s not the end –
We’ll help you out, ‘cause you’re our friend!”

“You’ll really help me?” questioned Buck,
Who felt a bit down on his luck.
“Of course” said Marty, “and I bet,
This Easter proves the best one yet!”
Just then a voice called from below,
“I saw the thief – a shrewd dingo!”
Buck queried, “Who was that I heard?”
Nell pointed “Look! A ladybird!”

The little bug, said whilst Buck slept,
A stealthy dingo quietly crept,
Up Marty’s stairs on nimble paws,
To snatch the basket in his jaws.
Buck shook his head in disbelief,
Determined now, to catch the thief,
“Let’s go!” he shouted, feeling brave,
“We have to find that dingo’s cave.”

They asked a nearby cockatoo,
To aid them with a birds-eye view,
The helpful bird, flew far and wide,
To find where dingo liked to hide.
They shortly heard his squawking song,
“Go south towards the billabong”,
“Alright” said Buck, “Let’s rock and roll!
We’ll find him at the waterhole.”

The group set off, without a sound,
Hunching low, towards the ground,
They had a clever plan in mind,
That needed all their skills combined.
Buck let his friends each nominate,
A mission to co-ordinate,
They gathered items, for the ploy
With Marty as the team’s decoy.

Prepped and ready, to proceed,
Marty bravely took the lead,
He lined up dingo, dead ahead,
And pelted gumnuts at his head!
The startled dingo soon gave chase,
With stinging welts upon his face,
Marty led him, ‘round a ledge,
Upon a log, and to its edge…

The timber teetered, with their weight,
As dingo moved to take the bait.
“I’ve got you now” he snickered slyly,
“I’m the fastest and most wily”.
Hidden on the ledge above,
Nell gave a pile of rocks a shove,
They landed on their target square,
And flung that dingo out of there!

Free to make the final save,
From deep in the unguarded cave,
Buck scurried through the darkness blind,
To claim what he had come to find.
“Yippee! Yahoo!” soon came the shout,
“I’ve found it, now I’m coming out.”
Buck hopped out proudly, smiling bright,
His paws gripped on his basket tight.

Buck thanked his friends for all their help,
Glanced at the sun, and gave a yelp,
“We’ve been so busy, fighting crime,
I’ve gone and lost track of the time!
How can I make it, all the way,
‘round Queensland after this delay?”
“I know” said Marty, with a laugh,
“Let’s use the old bush telegraph!”

Every creature, great and small,
Rallied to the bilby’s call,
Koalas, magpies, kangaroos,
(A sad and sorry dingo too!)
The sky transformed from blue to red,
“It’s nearly dark” the bilby said,
“Twelve hours ‘til new day is dawning –
Quick! These eggs are due by morning!”

Furry friends and birds of feather,
Buckled down and worked together,
Eggs were hid with total ease,
Under rocks and up in trees.
Just in time the deed was done,
And children woke prepared for fun,
They laughed out loud with smiling faces,
Finding eggs in fun, new places.

Every house for hours after,
Rang with sounds of children’s laughter.
Boys and girls unwrapped their treats,
And gobbled up the chocolate sweets.
Buck had cleaned up dingo’s mess,
Easter was a big success!
But silence filled the bush around,
The animals were sleeping sound.
© R.J. Coco