Alpaca’s On Watch

Al Paca’s family is keen to observe

Farmer Pat’s cat, sitting undisturbed.

A quiet pussycat – without the hissing fit

Doesn’t spook alpacas – sometimes they spit.

She sits on the fence with feline finesse

Unblinking, purring, her name is Tess.

Tess watches too, so nothing’s amiss

On farmer Pat’s farm it is heavenly bliss.

Al Paca hums to keep his family calm

They respond in kind; Tess means no harm.

She sits like a queen, a creature of love

Never blinking an eye, heavens above.

Al Paca is tallest of these lookalike Llamas

He’s the father near the left in lighter pyjamas.

The fur is worth more than a culled herd for meat

Alpacas are lucrative – for fibre hard to beat.

Unlike Llamas which are larger working beasts

They’re not eaten like venison – dearest of feasts.

Alpacas weigh the same as a tasty deer

Yet Alpacas are rarely eaten, have no fear.

Hidden Writing

Some write with pleasure since young,

Some find writing homework a chore.

Some don’t write much at all

Or, write later in life when they’re bored.

Writing is a hidden gift for some,

Late bloomers are like a late flowering flower

Some are just blooming late,

having doubts from the start until,

they finish with flourishing power.

Shine Moon

Rats race to the moon for the biggest piece of cheese

Fat rats fly on upward on a perilous lunar mission

Flying on rocketing clouds – their tails stiff in the breeze

They no not what will come of their loony decision.

Earth’s plagued by starving rats begging food to eat

A fragile globe is spoiled – killed for meat of beasts.

Ratus ratus moves to the moon in a rocket ship fleet

Hoping science will provide more than cheese for feasts.

​​​​…

Only one man lives on the moon – one Mister Scribbly Dibbler

He plays a mystery moony tune – on a silvery harmonica

Snorts some moonshine whiskey; what a rhymey riddler

His origins remembered from forbears in Thessalonica.

Mr Scribble scribbles a riddle deep inside a crater –

Isn’t science fun? Will we see you later?

Mobility Ability

Milk bottle lids are truly tops

For all the haves and have nots.

3D printed hands – picture the vision

Prosthetic limbs now fit with precision.

Milk bottle lids benefit other kids

From overseas – here at home as well.

Farmers need sales; let’s milk these lids

A million saved already – see them swell.

Lids for 3D printing – what a fundraiser

For people needing hands, we can save ya!

Wired Barbs

A farmer exhales

warmed, wintry breath –

sights his twisted defence

Snowy River drifts

drift in against single-

strand wire, letting it in

Sunlight melts frost

on topmost wires

taut once, now – awry

Like the farmer’s frame

once tight, so straight,

today – it is maligned

Rusty, frosty memories

surface with pain –

undone by morning sun

Crops, stock – surrounded;

fenced by furnace-forged steel

now – long gone cold

Too old to play God

with beast, or crop

Too young to give in.

Mr. Squiggle: the man from the moon

Here’s Mr. Squiggle, with lots of puns for everyone

Here’s Mr. Squiggle, sing a tune from the moon

You can see with glee his home’s a mystery

Crater Crescent – his home on the moon.

Blackboard says, ‘upside-down, upside down’

‘Hurry-up, hurry-up,’ Easel frowns,

Steamshovel has a joke, Mr. Squiggle says, ‘soon’

‘Knock, knock,’ ‘I’m home on the moon’

Children write-in squiggles and tricky riddles

Mr. Squiggle solves scribbly dibbly scribbles

Pencils by his nose, everything he knows

He walks the moon with a happy lunar tune

A Circus in Time

Mum, “The big top is here, a three-ring circus hits town

Lions, tigers, apes and other trained animals, it’s here for six weeks.

Sideshows, freak shows, clowns between acts with dotted gowns

Musicians, magicians, acrobats and jugglers with spotty cheeks.”

The white-top’s up, we’re at The Greatest Show – it’s last moon

A circus is alive, festooned with shooting galleries, it’s intense.

Signs are all around, mystical and magical like a cartoon

Buggies drive, statues come alive, dancers jive in tents.

A swinger catches the rope with grace, without a care in air

Acrobats do fly tricks with elegance – seeming to be at ease.

One falls from grace to the trampoline, then bounces from despair

She’s the bee’s knees catching a bar with ease – a flying trapeze.

Fireworks pop, a whip-cracker cracks cracking black whips

A clown loses his pants when he hears a firecracker crack.

Now to the kiosk for fairyfloss, hotdogs, donuts and hot chips  

A circus was here for a time, next day they start to pack.