Dancing the tune of the breeze
She lifts her coat sleeves –
And freezes as if in prayer
To breed in the shady leaves;
Green confetti in air.
On the rib-case underneath –
A waxy seam of leaf,
Tiny eggs, colour of cream
Are stuck with butterfly paste.
Blue lady lifts as a dream,
Leaving them, to hatch or waste.
Who knows where she goes
Blue butterfly mother?
Image by Pexels
Fields of Spring
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 swamping 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.
Yesterday
I was a golden dragon
The kiss of grasses brushed my ankles
And then I rose into the sky
Where I cavorted at first
Then drifted
brushing the clouds,
a wondrous lilting shape that those below
beheld with awe.
Golden and crimson I lapped the world
like a god commanding
everything
and everyone
all things revolved around me
I owned the day
Shattered it with my beauty
And my gigantic roar.
Today
yesterday was a dream
and now I am but a mere child
my mother standing over me
with her many demands
I must obey.
Dianne Bates
CAR SICK
Green
Our fast green car
Green world
Stomach churning
Head spinning
Spinning
The world turning
Upside down
Downside up
Around and around
Wheels rolling
Streets passing
Blurred buildings
Blurred faces
Blur blur blur
Ur…
Dad, stop!
I’m going to throw …
Too late.
Green
Our fast green car
Green world
Stomach churning
Head spinning
Spinning
The world turning
Upside down
Downside up
Around and around
Wheels rolling
Streets passing
Blurred buildings
Blurred faces
Blur blur blur
Ur…
Dad, stop!
I’m going to throw …
Too late.
THIS SEASON
The moon tonight is a marble,
perfect and white.
See it there
above the rows of trees
bare-limbed and angular
lifting hands
as if in prayer
in the valley
that continues forever.
Comes dawn and warmth for
the slumbering bed of seeds
laid in rows like soldiers,
mute, and obedient to the seasons.
Comes a drizzle of rain
and baby fingers unfold,
reach for the yellow hot goodness
of sun.
Comes the gardener
Who tends the struggling army
defends it against the enemy,
the battalions of flying and crawling insects
and the dryness of earth;
She sprays, hoes,
waits for the hostage stems to unfurl,
to stretch, to uncurl.
Comes the leaves,
the unfolding flowers, and then…
ah yes,
the plant ripe with fruit,
the scent of Eden in the air!
© Dianne Bates
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
Dianne Bates
How can I ever forget
The old legless soldier
Ribbons on his chest
In his wheelchair
That April morning
In the hospital grounds
When the bugle sounded
Tears streaming down his cheeks
His muffled sobs and
His sweet-faced young nurse
Leaning to offer him comfort –
In that single moment
A snapshot of what
War does to people.
A grain of sand on its own,
A tiny world
in the palm of your hand.
But still, nothing much…
Add millions of other grains,
Shape them with sea-water
And you’ve got a sand-castle.
Next add trillions and trillions of grains Getting there…
And zillions and zillions more —
Now you’re talking!
Australian Children’s Poetry 