Poem of the Day

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Platypus’s Penchant

 

‘Wakey-wakey, Platypus –

time to have your tea.’

Mummy prodded Platypus

quite impatiently.

‘Pumpkin, please not pumpkin,’

was Platypus’s plea.

‘You know how food that’s orange

does not agree with me.

I want purple periwinkles,

pickled, for my tea.’

And if I must have veggies

I’ll eat a frozen pea.

Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

Poem of the Day

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Eggshell Animals

 

Purple-coloured jellybeans

with tiny arms and legs

will prod and poke a hole in

their marble-sized white egg.

 

Once hatched, they’ll grow-up hairy

and have a leathery beak.

So are they some new kind of bird

whose wings became antique?

 

No, no.  It’s not a birdy thing.

Then could it be lizard?

No.  Fur won’t grow on reptiles …

unless tricked by a wizard!

 

At first they’re bald as pumpkins

and lap their mother’s milk.

But four months-old, a platypus

has fur like soft thick silk.

Celia Berrell

inspired by:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5Y2h5zjpWU

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #9

Poem of the Day

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THE ECHIDNA

An echidna passed across a track

heading towards a special snack.

 

A naturalist muttered, ‘What a turn!

about this creature, I’ve got to learn.’

 

He kneeled to take a closer look

the echidna swung with strong right hook.

 

And it was such a heavy clout

it nearly knocked the watcher out.

 

The echidna curled into a prickly ball

snarling, ‘I don’t like you at all.’

 

The naturalist cried and mused upon

what it was that he’d done wrong.

 

He only wanted to see first hand

the weirdest creature in the land.

 

The echidna uncurled and stalked away

grumbling at his ruined day.

 

And idiots too dumb to know

you always let echidnas go –

 

About their business digging holes

and eating ants from salad bowls.

 

Or snuffling around a great big mound

Where tasty termites are always found.

 

To spare echnida watchers’ pain,

the moral of this tale is plain.

 

Always remember it’s very rude

to keep echidnas from their food.

 

Margaret Pearce