Tag Archives: Alys Jackson

60 Seconds by Alys Jackson

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60 seconds

A lot can happen in 60 seconds and even more in a minute.

You can floss your teeth

and tie your shoes

or blink 12 times within it!

A hummingbird flaps 4,000 times,

there are 59 weddings

and 3 parking fines

(in Melbourne).

300 lightning strikes hit Earth.

250 mothers give birth.

5 earthquakes rattle the world someplace,

but have you ever wondered what happens in space?

 

For every minute of every day

there’s a cosmic supernova display.

Fireworks on the grandest scale,

a blinding, flashing starburst wail,

as 60 stars begin to implode

their cores superheating until they explode.

Imagine?

 

Who’d have thought there was that much power?

Makes me wonder what happens each hour.

Alys Jackson

Fields in Flood by Alys Jackson

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Fields in Flood

For weeks now the wind has been keening,

cascading its tears into creeks

sobbing small streams into torrents,

the torrents now springing small leaks.

 

Around us the rivers are rising,

wet-fisted they break sodden banks,

huddling the sheep in their paddocks,

drowning the grass round their shanks.

 

Floodwaters bury the highway

choking the freight and the fields

and pelicans thunder the sky-way,

casting their rods and their reels.

Alys Jackson

Alys said: I wrote this poem after visiting NSW recently and hearing about the devastating floods that cut off the Newell Highway. The farmer I spoke to told me that hundreds of pelicans appeared from nowhere to feed on the fish in the floodwaters.

Mother I’m Starving by Alys Jackson

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Mother I’m Starving

 

Take away all of those long beans,

throw away broccoli too.

I’m quite unable to like greens.

Ditto for anything blue!

 

Eggplant and aubergine, no, no!

Roasted nor boiled nor fried.

Veggies of all kinds can go, go,

and any food I haven’t tried!

 

Nothing that’s fruity or cheesy,

no soup, no pasta, no rice.

Stewing and baking can’t please me,

eggy things really aren’t nice.

 

Forget about anything meaty,

seafood if it’s from the sea.

And better not give me a lolly!

  • sugar’s not healthy you see!

 

Never present me with curry,

cornbread, rye, barley or wheat,

but Mother I’d like you to hurry,

I’m starving and I want to eat!

Alys Jackson

Alys said: I couldn’t resist having a go at a rhyming poem for all the fussy eaters. As far as writing technique goes, I write wherever and whenever I get a good idea. I always carry a notebook and love reading poetry of all types.

RIVER (Acrostic) Poems

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River, River by James Aitchison

River, river, I don’t know

River, river, where you flow

Your course varies north to south

Where’s your source?  Where’s your mouth?

You’re a winding watery snake!

(Now read it again, starting from the bottom)

James Aitchison

 

The River Goes to Sleep by Alys Jackson

Ripples leave their

Imprints on a soft and sandy rise,

Vines are dipping fingers while the

Evening winks her eyes;

Resting crimson ribbons round the river’s dusty sides.

Alys Jackson

 

RIVER by Margaret Pearce

Running to school one cold wet day

Into dreams of escape and running away

Visiting islands full of sea and sun

Enjoying swimming and lots of fun

Returned to reality dark and grey.

 

Required homework not done yet

Idiot me never a teacher’s pet

Very hard to get past this disaster

Explaining why I can’t work faster

Rewriting forever the homework set.

Margaret Pearce

 

River by Virginia Lowe

Resting river, a rill rocks our raft

Icy depths of ink immersing ivy

Vacillation, veering with veritable vigour,

Exploration of each elemental eddy is exciting

Run raft run, rejoicing round the rapids

Virginia Lowe

 

 

 

Phineas McGonagall by Alys Jackson

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Phineas McGonagall

Phineas McGonagall was very strange indeed,

For the manner of his feeding and for where he kept his feed.

Upon his head, he wore a wig of lamington and cheese.

His beard was full of ‘little boys’ that dangled to his knees.

Among his friends I must say there were many most disgusted:

And so would you be if you knew just where he kept his custard.

To critics Phiny simply smiled and said, ‘Now look here sonny!’

Stamped a dusty boot from which erupted blue gum honey.

‘With a narnie in me pocket and some damper in me daks,

I’m never short of tucker as I tred life’s sandy tracks.

From Alice Springs to Zanthus I have never ‘ad the munchies.

-Thanks mostly to me grundies where I keep a stash of crunchies!-

And I betcha when I cark it and am carried out feet first,

The tinnies in me pocket slake the undertaker’s thirst!’

Alys Jackson

 

  • Alys is a regular contributor to The School Magazine and has just won the 2017 Award for Poetry at the Henry Lawson Festival of Arts.