high in the tree-top
kookaburras form a choir
notes falling with leaves
my breath clouds like mist
summer bleeds from the branches
I walk on colour
Image from Pixabay
Autumn Haikus by James Aitchison
Leave a commentTag Archives: James Aitchison
When the sun goes down by James Aitchison
Leave a commentThe bright afternoon is over,
the sun is low in the sky,
the world is holding its breath
and the trees are waving goodbye.
The first night creatures are stirring
and bats come out to play,
as the night spreads over the plain
and claims the leavings of the day.
When the sun goes down by James Aitchison
Desert sunset, Australia. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Loony Limericks by James Aitchison
Leave a commentThere was a young man from Crete,
Who walked on his hands not his feet,
What a fun affair
To have your knees in the air,
And shake toes with the people you meet.
There was a young man from Peru,
Who swallowed a mouthful of glue.
His lips were sealed,
His nose was congealed,
And his face turned a bright shade of blue.
Loony Limericks by James Aitchison
Image from Pexels
This poem is completely potty! by James Aitchison
Leave a commentWhere 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 by James Aitchison
Leave a commentBendy 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
A Day Like No Other by James Aitchison
1 CommentTheir 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.
Beware the gigglegum bird by James Aitchison
Leave a commentHigh 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
My clock’s cuckoo! by James Aitchison
Leave a commentTick-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
Where do I go? by James Aitchison
Leave a commentI 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
Gorgeous! by James Aitchison
Leave a commentNot 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
Australian Children’s Poetry 