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
Tag Archives: James Aitchison
What I Found In The Bush by James Aitchison
Leave a commentIt 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
A Cinquain for a Train by James Aitchison
Leave a commentrailcars
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!)
Hop Right In! by James Aitchison
Leave a comment(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
Gold by James Aitchison
2 CommentsI 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
All Aboard? No Thanks! by James Aitchison
Leave a commentStop 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
Cheating A Crocodile by James Aitchison
2 CommentsFirst I saw bubbles —
just two or three —
breaking the surface
of the water near me.
And then into view
came the beast’s ugly snout —
“Crocodile! Crocodile!”
the world heard me shout.
I ran up the bank
as it clambered ashore
and sat in the sun
where I’d been before.
When it opened its jaws,
I had a strong hunch —
if I hadn’t moved quickly,
I would have been lunch!
Freshwater crocodile, Cobbold Gorge, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Where’s My House by James Aitchison
1 CommentEvery spring I lose my house —
it likes to disappear —
behind the flowers and bushes
that grow so fast round here.
No more bare old branches,
no more empty beds;
there’s greenery and colour
that everywhere turns heads.
Spring wakes up my garden,
puts magic in the air,
along with different scents
a-drifting here and there.
Springtime at an old miner’s cottage, Creswick, Victoria. Photo by Ginette Pestana
A Tale of Old Miners by James Aitchison
Leave a commentI wonder who lived here,
I wonder where they went?
Did they make a living,
or were their hopes all spent?
Did they dream of copper,
digging riches from the ground?
They haven’t been forgotten
for there’s history all around.
Perhaps at night their ghosts
still venture out to roam,
stepping lightly through the gloom
to once again come home.
The old Williams cottage, Blinman, South Australia. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Hello, Daphne! by James Aitchison
Leave a commentHello, Daphne, by the fence,
aren’t your flowers full of scents!
You’ve been asleep all winter long,
now you’re blooming sweet and strong.
You spice the breeze and fill the air,
your flowers white, your fragrance rare.
The moment all your blooms appear,
you tell me that spring is here.
Photo credit Ginette Pestana
Australian Children’s Poetry 