It’s when the snow is all around,
and leaves slide silent to the ground.
It’s when the river turns to ice
and skating on it might be nice.
It’s when the soup is brimming warm
and outside stays the storm.
It’s when the birds cease their choir
and your feet are by the fire.
Photo in Bavaria, Germany, by Ginette Pestana
A bugle in the frosty dawn,
each note hanging in the air,
then falling into silence
like the guns did, over there.
A voice recites a poem,
the vast crowd standing hushed;
every head is bowed,
every soul is touched.
Soon the men will march,
their memories aflame,
their banners held aloft,
each battle has a name.
And we who watch will know
that what we have was born
in blood and sacrifice,
on that first grim Anzac morn.
Photo from Pexels by Pixabay
The trees are stark and bare in winter,
Mist curls around their feet.
The brooks are running fast and pooling deeply
Where the waters meet.
The sleepy twilight sends the day to flight,
And the bush slides into night.
Winter’s chill seeps down into the gorges,
And all is lost to sight.
Mountain ridges smudge the distance
In the cold grey light.
But soon enough the bush will wake to spring,
And the bellbirds’ chimes will ring.
Image from Pexels by Warren Griffiths
A skip and a hop,
a jump and a run,
Easter Sunday
is mega fun!
The eggs are hidden
everywhere,
up in trees,
under the stair.
Some are green,
some are red,
some are even
under my bed.
I’ll have a feast when
my search is complete;
and save the rest
for my friends to eat.
Photo from Pexels by Boris Manev
Let’s sit down and write a book,
The first line matters — it’s called the “hook”.
Then off we go with Chapter One,
The words are flowing, isn’t it fun?
The story’s building, what a great plot,
With twists and turns, it’s got the lot.
There are so many stories to tell your friends,
With exciting beginnings and happy ends!
Photo from Stockcake Free Images
My underpants are white and blue;
One day I dropped them in the loo.
I heard them gurgle down the pipe,
But couldn’t find them on my Skype.
How far, how far, will they travel?
I hope the stitches won’t unravel!
And if they’re in some spooky drain,
Will I ever see them again?
What if the sewer goes out to sea?
My underpants might reach Fiji!
Or has some big fish put them on?
I think my underpants have gone!
Image from ABC News
“Hello,” said the puppy,
“exactly who are you?”
“Hmph!” said the joey,
“I’m a kangaroo!”
The puppy said, “I’m only new,
I think I’ll grow quite tall.”
The joey laughed. “Next to me,
you’ll always be quite small!”
Image from James Aitchison
I’d hate to be a hairbrush,
by the mirror, waiting there;
my bristles would get clogged up
with strands of yucky hair.
Everybody uses me,
no one seems to care;
red hair, black hair, grey hair too —
a technicolor scare!
Image from Pexels by RDNE Stock project
It looks like just
a ruined boat,
but what if we
could make it float?
We’d sail downriver
and out to sea,
with a yo-ho-ho,
my friends and me.
I’d be captain,
they’d be crew,
so they’d do what
I told them to.
We’d sail to China,
and then Peru,
on our own boat
on the ocean blue.
Old ship in Marlborough Sound, New Zealand. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Roses are red, violets are blue,
but flowers aren’t sweet enough!
Only cannoli will win my heart —
forget the usual stuff!
Cannoli are creamy,
A yummy bouquet,
the perfect gift
on Valentine’s Day.
Cannoli on show in Rome. Photo by Ginette Pestana
