Dear Santa, here’s my list
of things I want this year:
Lots and lots of juicy leaves,
growing fresh and near.
Lots and lots of happy trees,
so I’ll always have a home,
and may the trees grow nice and tall,
so I’ll have room to roam.
Please don’t let men cut them down,
And destroy our precious bush — No!
For if the forests are destroyed,
I’ve nowhere else to go.
image from Pixabay by Michaela
Now that’s what I call a house,
with lots of space for everyone.
Lots of stairs to run up and down,
and a room on the roof just for fun.
I could play my music really loud —
Mum and Dad wouldn’t hear it at all.
My siblings would be out of my way,
at the other end of a long, long hall.
But when it’s time for dinner,
there’s a problem I can see:
by the time I went down all that way
there’d be nothing left for me!
English stately home. Photo by Ginette Pestana
With watercolours or oil,
the choice is up to you.
The canvas is totally blank,
just like a day that’s new.
Perhaps you’ll draw with pencil,
or sketch with pen and ink,
why not give charcoal a go —
then sit back and see what you think.
With every single brushstroke,
with every line you draw,
you’ll create an image
that’s unmistakably yours.
Famous painter Hans Heysen’s studio at Hahndorf, South Australia. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Oh what a lovely swamp —
I can hear things going ker-plomp!
And even though it’s blue on top,
underneath it’s slop-slop-slop.
Birds swoop low, fish dive deep,
crocodiles open their eyes for a peek.
The trees haven’t seen their roots for years
and nothing is really what it appears.
It’s all very murky and muddy in there,
and who knows what will come up for air?
Undara, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
If I were a koala,
how happy I would be.
I’d have one branch for dinner,
and another one for tea.
There’d be no washing up,
and nothing else to do:
so I’d curl up nice and high,
and sleep an hour or two.
Photo from Pexels by Flip Side
It was hiding in the bush,
where only eagles soar;
it was hiding in the bush,
but I could hear its distant roar.
At first I saw a stream,
it looked nothing much at all,
then farther on I walked
and found the waterfall:
plunging over lava
the massive torrent fell,
tumbling to a chasm,
it held me in its spell.
And that was when I wondered
where else could I go,
and discover more surprises
than I could ever know!
Big Millstream Falls, Australia’s widest single drop waterfall, 5 km from Ravenshoe, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
railcars
silvery sleek
rattling, clicking, clacking
my very special adventure
outback
The Savannahlander train crossing a creek, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Teacher’s note: A cinquain is an unrhymed five-line poem that has a 2-4-6-8-2 syllable count.
Line 1: a one-word noun (the subject of the poem)
Line 2: two adjectives that describe Line 1
Line 3: a three-word verbal phrase that further describes Line 1
Line 4: a four-word phrase that shows a feeling toward Line 1
Line: a one-word noun synonymous with or related to Line 1
Writing cinquains is great fun for students.
(Note: “special” is a two-syllable word!)
(In Honour of National Bathtub Day October 7th)
In days of old,
out in the cold,
this is where you’d wash.
Rub-a-dub-dub,
in a public tub,
oh my golly gosh!
Hop right in,
up to your chin,
give your skin a sheen.
And let’s all hope
there’s enough soap
so everyone is clean.
Think of the queue
following you,
eager to get in too.
So don’t delay —
scrub right away —
I’m the one after you!
Street bath, Europe. Photo by Ginette Pestana
I found gold,
at the end of the day.
I found gold,
more than I could say.
I found gold,
how I wished it would stay.
I found gold,
but it slipped away.
Sunset in the Gulf Country, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Stop the train,
I want to get off —
that bridge looks a disaster!
It happened when
they had a flood
and the river ran much faster.
It twisted the rails,
it bent the bridge —
any train would roll and sway.
So until it’s fixed,
until it’s safe,
no more trains will pass this way!
Rail bridge at Einasleigh, Gulf Country, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Australian Children’s Poetry 