Poem of the Day

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The Blues


Most people would say blue’s a colour: the colour of sky and the sea

And If I should happen to ask you, I fully expect you’d agree,

But blue is much more than a colour: believe me, it really is true,

Because if you don’t, or you just simply won’t,

I might have a real blue with you!


For blue is not always a colour. It’s a blue when we argue or fight.

When our faces are red and some heated words said,

It’s a blue that we’re having all right.

A blue, then, is not very pleasant and we may be left feeling quite bad

Should that happen to you, you’ll be feeling quite blue,

Which is simply to say you that you’re sad.


You may hear a person called “Bluey”, or “Blue” if the name is made short.

It’s said as a joke to a red-headed bloke:

One with hair of the gingery sort.

But if you’re a loyal Australian and value this land and its ways

Then we’ll call you “true blue” and think highly of you,

For the “true blue” are people we praise.


Now even when blue IS a colour, we’re not always sure what to think.

We know it’s not green like a pea or a bean, and it’s hardly a yellow or pink!

But it could be a sky blue or navy. It might be an aquamarine,

Or baby blue, cobalt or turquoise, for these too may sometimes be seen.

So before you say “blue”, take a moment or two

And  make sure you make clear what you mean!


Monty Edwards

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3


Monty says: “As I thought about the different colours, I was struck by the range of uses of the word “blue”, and also the various shades in which the colour blue may be seen. I thought it might be helpful to children and new Australians to explore this in a poem.”


Poem of the Day


There’s a Rainbow in my Pocket


Inside the pocket of my shorts it’s dark and not too clean,

But you might just decipher the colours red and green.

There’s a length of string that’s red or faded nearly pink

A piece of a tangelo skin that’s sweeter than you think

A dandelion head there is, that’s rather sad and squashed

A blade of grass that’s all green now but changes when it’s washed

A toffee wrapper, blue as blue, that’s sticky-d up the dark

As well a stone of purplish-grey I found when in the park.


Rainbow colours but oh no, not the rainbow with its glow

Far too dirty, far too dank, it all needs cleaning to be frank.


Hard edges, cooling to the touch. I take it out and rub it clean

Angled just right toward the sun, its transparency is seen

In coloured bands breaks up the light,

and then stream through the colours bright

A wondrous pleasure to bestow

the prism bears its own rainbow

Virginia Lowe
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3






Poem of the Day

1 Comment


We live up on the hillside,

And our burrows dot the grass,

Where we play and romp and sleep,

And just watch the clouds float past.


Although it gets chaotic,

We can still have heaps of fun,
‘cause my family’s really large,
And I love them, every one.

There’s …

Auntie Flo whose strawberry RED,
And Uncle Bob who’s ocean  BLUE,
They’ve two little PURPLE bunnies,
My cousins one and two.

Auntie June is butter YELLOW,
Fire engine RED is Uncle Clive,
Their three little ones are ORANGE,
Cousins three, four and five.

Old Uncle Jock is deep sky BLUE,
Lemon YELLOW is Aunt Devine,
Lime GREEN are my other cousins,
Six, seven, eight and nine.

Dear Uncle George is WHITE as snow,
And BLACK as night is Auntie May,
Cousins ten to fourteen turned out,
Five different shades of GREY.

Then cousin Joy is tree-frog GREEN,
Her partner Pete is ruby RED,
They have six BROWN bouncing bunnies,
All tucked up tight in bed.

My Mum and Dad are both pure WHITE,
And I could never really see,
How I turned out like I did,
With COLOURED spots all over me.

I guess I have a bit of all,
My large family mixed in me,
But I’m happy, it’s who I am,
How I turned out to be.


Sandra Hopf
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3


Sandra said: I love writing in a quirky, fun style, but with still a lesson hidden in there. Most of my work tends to be rhyme as I simply can’t help myself!


Poem of the Day


Flame Trees


Come November

the flame trees

begin to wear their fire.

Over there a winking ember

peeps cautiously

from a green crown,

hinting at Christmas

and stirring nervous thoughts

of fire in green places,


while nearby, an extrovert,

naked through winter,

makes a spectacle of herself

in the full flare

of a brand new red dress.


How do I look?

she asks seductively,


and even the old Jacarandas

in their cool quenching blue

offer nothing but


©  Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3


Poem of the Day



We’re studying the moon –

drawing it, remembering all the moons

we’ve ever seen.


Just now, through the window,

there’s a daylight-moon looking fragile,

egg-shell soft, pale white.


I’ve no plans to go up there

whizzing through the  blue,

landing on the pearly moon.


But I can’t stop thinking

about a blood-orange full moon

I saw inching up


into the summery sky.

It moved so slowly,

became a golden balloon


that never hurried.

I wanted to follow it,

catch it. But I never did.


© Katherine Gallagher


(Published in Read Me, (Macmillan, 2009, ed. Gaby Morgan)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3



Poem of the Day


I am geometrically perfect
I am several hues of blue
I quiver on a perfect arc
My ovals three times two.

But wait, there is another
Oval, perched out on a limb
Is it meant to be my head
On a body oh, so slim?

My head, if that is what it is
Is a different bluish blue
Am I really me, have I fluttered have I danced
Or am I but an icon, something digitally enhanced?

Meg Mackey

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #40


Poem of the Day


Blue and red

by Sophie Masson


All the day long, the bluebird sings,

High in the trees, high on the wing.


All the day long, the red cow eats,

Moos and eats, moos and eats.


All the night long, the blue dog howls,

Keeps up the neighbours with his sad yowls.


All the night long, the red fox prowls,

Watch out you farmers, lock up your fowls!