Poem of the Day

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Supersnail

by Monty Edwards

 

I may not have a backbone,

But I’m brave as brave can be.

Just take time to observe me,

Then I’m sure you will agree.

My enemies are giants tall

And armed with hoes and spades!

They stomp around my picnic spots

And hurl their flashing blades!

 

Yet these will not deter me,

Since it’s clear that I must eat

The greens left lying in my path:

How beautifully sweet!

I bravely dodge the missiles

And the bomb-like boots from heights.

Such perils do not kill desire

To scoff down such delights!

 

When climbing I am carefree:

Though high may be the wall,

I cling to ledges upside down

And never fear to fall.

So do not doubt my courage.

Admire my spiral shell!

Call me “a mighty mollusc”

And “Supersnail” as well!

  • Submitted in response to Words+Pictures #5

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Poem of the Day

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WHO’S HOME?

by Monty Edwards

 

You will find him in your garden

Yet he’ll always be at home,

Which is strange, because he travels,

Though he never far will roam,

For his movement is quite sluggish

And he often stops to eat.

If you’re growing nice green lettuce,

He considers that a treat!

 

With his eyes on stalks like flowers,

He can find his favourite food.

Never interrupt him eating,

Or he’ll think you’re very rude!

Do not fear that he’ll attack you

As he cannot throw a punch;

He will just be feeling cranky

That you’ve spoiled his lovely lunch!

 

Since his home he carries with him,

He will never mind the rain

And if anything should scare him,

He just goes inside again!

You will look in vain for footprints

But you’ll see his silver trail.

Do you think you know his name now . . . ?

Yes, you’ve got it! . . . Mr Snail!

  • Submitted in response to Words+Pictures #5
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Poem of the Day

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Brown Honeyeaters

By Helen Hagemann

 

A brilliant blue rising from a bronze morning

and Brown Honeyeaters are circling the garden.

 

Today, they are in the olive tree in my neighbour’s

yard, performing aerial songs (although it’s more a short

 

sharp, tweep!). Before spring, I counted two regular

visitors to our horticulture of Canna lilies, Yellow

 

Bird-of-Paradise, Grevillea, Frangipani, now there are

four! As if in concert, they dance, plunging to and fro.

 

It’s balletic, reminding you of Rudolf Nureyev and Dame

Margot Fontein in Romeo and Juliet. One of the

 

fledgelings is as graceful as Maria Kochetkova, a

Giselle fluttering her wings, thin as the veil of a tutu.

 

There’s fussing from parents, followed by a preen on

brick wall and hedge, a bird commotion of tutelage.

 

The best is their closeness, high in the branches, and now

that the young are fed and sleepy, the show has stopped.