Where to put the pot?
Under the bed
or on your head?
Where to put the pot?
..
Where to put the pot?
Behind the door
or on the floor?
Where to put the pot?
…
Where to put the pot?
I haven’t a clue,
what can I do?
I haven’t got a pot!
This poem is completely potty! by James Aitchison
Image from Pixabay
Bendy Wendy the contortionist
could tie herself in knots:
not just one or two knots,
but lots and lots and lots!
Until she got so twisted,
like a piece of rope,
and no one could undo her,
they all just gave up hope.
But one winter’s morning
Wendy caught a cold,
she sneezed and sneezed so hard,
her body just unrolled.
Bendy Wendy by James Aitchison
Image from Pexels
Their names are etched forever
beneath a statue’s feet,
or beside a lofty obelisk
on every main street.
They left their farms to fight,
young men who heard the call,
from offices and banks,
prepared to give their all.
Some fell in foreign fields,
in trenches far away,
while others maimed and struggling,
relived their horrors every day.
The debt our nation owes them —
how can it be repaid?
Let us all remember them,
let not their honour fade.
A DAY LIKE NO OTHER by James Aitchison
Photo sent in by James Aitchison: “George William Aitchison (1873-1950) served with the NSW Volunteer Bushmen in the Boer War”
Teacher’s note: From the Boer War to Afghanistan, 103,101 men and women have died serving Australia.
High in a tree
lived a gigglegum bird —
its noise was the weirdest
you ever heard.
When it was happy
it made a chirp
that sounded like
a thunderous burp.
It scared a crow,
it scared an owl,
it scared a cow
and made it howl.
Kangaroos heard it
and off they scurried,
platypuses were perplexed
while wombats worried.
So next time you
hear a burp in the bush,
just simply say:
“Gigglegum, shush!”
Beware the gigglegum bird by James Aitchison
Image from Pixabay
Tick-tick-tick-tock,
says my clock.
Tock-tock-tock-tick,
it sounds really sick.
Tick-tick-tock-tick,
is it running slow or quick?
Tock-tick-tick-tock,
what a silly clock!
My clock’s cuckoo! by James Aitchison
Image by Pixabay
I like to go where it’s slow,
where silence never ends,
where ancient mountains
become my best friends.
Where eagles nest,
I like to sit and just be,
where land has no limits
and where I am free.
Where do I go? by James Aitchison
The view from Pugilists’ Hill, Flinders Ranges. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Not a sound, not a ripple,
as we whisper our way
between sandstone walls —
ten metres high, they say.
Then it gets narrow,
two metres in places,
and on the stone,
are they fossil traces?
It’s a tight squeeze,
you can touch the rock —
but make sure it’s not hiding
a freshwater croc!
Yabbies and turtles,
and a big goanna,
you’ll see them all
in the Gulf Savannah.
Gorgeous! by James Aitchison
Teacher’s note: The Cobbold Gorge was formed 10,000 years ago. Several springs feed into the gorge, keeping the water level constant.
Far North Queensland’s Cobbold Gorge. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Cockatoos eat with their left leg,
their right hangs on to their perch.
They gobble and chew so neatly
without a sideways lurch.
You’ll see them up on the fence,
having a tasty lunch,
feeding themselves an apple,
never missing a single crunch.
Hungry cockatoos by James Aitchison
Hungry cockatoos. Photo by Philip Webster
You’ll see them in the savannah —
some are eight metres tall —
and when you’ve seen one mound,
you haven’t seen them all!
They’re built by tiny termites,
six millimetres long,
engineered with clever skill,
they’re absolutely strong.
With natural air-conditioning,
the heat just disappears;
each multi-storey complex
can last one hundred years!
James Aitchison
Termite mounds in North Queensland’s savannah country. Photo by Ginette Pestana
A soft misty sunrise,
adventure’s in the air,
let’s raise the sails and go
while the weather’s fair.
There’s so much to explore —
where will we go today?
For lunch let’s drop anchor
in a quiet bay.
And in the afternoon,
on the glassy tide,
we’ll try our hand at fishing,
as homeward bound we glide.
Where will we go today? by James Aitchison
Sunrise at Picton, South Island, New Zealand. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Australian Children’s Poetry 