A wilderness of tea-trees
In our paddock playground
One free day in the midst of childhood
A day filled with everything
We are wild things,
Charging, ducking, hiding,
Flies swatting our sweaty faces
A dove, startled, flies up and
Petals fall like a sprinkle of rain
As we play
Cowboys and Indians
With imaginary guns
Bang! Bang! You’re dead!
Falling to the ground face-up
Wisps of clouds slide above
As if breathing in and out.
Photo from Pexels by jonas mohamadi
I’ve never dreaded witches
Who look such dreadful frights,
Flying over ditches
On dark and windy nights.
I never shake if fingers
Touch my face at night,
If of course it lingers
I then turn on the light.
I just ignore the bogies
Lurking in the dark,
Packs of fat old fogies
Looking for a lark.
If I ever saw a lion
I’d punch him on the nose.
I’ve nerves of steel and iron
As everybody knows.
I don’t believe in being scared
I’ve never seen a ghost,
For creepy tales I’ve never cared,
And that’s my favourite boast.
I’ve proved that I’m the bravest
Of super heroes still,
So why does that stupid dentist
Still scare me with his drill?
A version of this published HOUSE OF SPROUTS 1987
A version of this published in LOVE & FEAR A Poetry Anthology 2003 by Artary Project Space (Community Arts Project Victoria)
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.
Australian Children’s Poetry 