I’m woken by a presence
in the middle of the night.
I’d scream to get attention
but I’m paralysed with fright.
There’s something like a zombie
shuffling slowly round my bed.
Its eyes are staring wildly
from a vacant-looking head.
The figure edges closer.
and I’m just about to pray
then I recognise its features
and the terror drains away.
I’m glad it’s not a monster,
not some evil-minded creep
but I wish my little sister
wouldn’t wander in her sleep!
Jenny Erlanger
You’re clearly still dizzy
from spinning around,
from constantly stumbling
and hitting the ground.
You’ve slipped on the carpet,
bumped into the chairs
collided with pillars
and tripped down the stairs.
You’ve toppled the urn
that was next to the door.
There are slivers of china
all over the floor.
You’ve booted the table,
knocked books off the shelf.
Consider the trouble
you’re causing yourself.
This game’s a disaster,
so may I advise
you take off the blindfold…
and open your eyes!
Jenny Erlanger
A Hairy Problem
If she hadn’t asked what
she should do with the knot
that was causing her terrible trouble
she’d be sitting right there
with a full head of hair
and not running her fingers through stubble.
I’d requested she sit
while I looked at the bit
that she said always tangles and frizzes
and I have to confess
I’ve created a mess.
I should never have picked up the scissors.
© Jenny Erlanger
Family drive
Every day from start to end
she drives my mother round the bend.
I kid you not, and that’s not all.
She drives my father up the wall.
So if you meet her, just beware.
She’s sure to drive you to despair.
My little sister’s only five
but, clearly, old enough to drive!
© Jenny Erlanger
Muddled Mollusc
It lives in our letterbox down by the gate,
this very unfortunate snail.
It’s slithering, chewing
and constantly pooing
on all of the family mail.
It could have had cabbages, carrots and beans,
all part of our vegetable plot.
Its hopes must be sinking.
I bet it was thinking
that lettuce would drop through the slot.
© Jenny Erlanger
Easter thief
Tell me, Buster, tell me who
would want to rob a kid?
How could someone ever do
what this offender did?
Help me, Buster, use your snout,
your super sense of smell.
Sniff the thoughtless scoundrel out
and I’ll reward you well.
Sit up, Buster, take those paws
away from round your ears
Why the sudden droopy jaws,
the hint of doggy tears?
Why the worried-looking brow,
the tail between the legs…?
Naughty Buster, fess up now.
It’s you who stole my eggs!
© Jenny Erlanger
The oyster way
An irritating grain of sand
or pesky piece of grit,
it slips inside the oyster shell
and finds a place to sit.
The oyster greets the irksome pest,
confronts it face to face,
bestows it with a soft caress,
a silky, smooth embrace.
How wonderful our lives could be,
how great for me and you
if we could tackle obstacles
the way the oysters do.
We’d gather all those gritty bits
that grind in vicious swirls
then smooth and sculpture each in turn
to shape a string of pearls.
© Jenny Erlanger
Double standards
When I sit down to dinner
There are things I mustn’t do.
There’s a list of rules to follow.
Let me give you just a few.
I’m not to gobble quickly,
every mouthful must be chewed.
I can’t talk over others
’cause to interrupt is rude.
My mouth needs to be empty
when I get a chance to talk
My dinner must be tackled
with a proper knife and fork.
And even when I’ve finished
I am forced to sit and wait
till everybody’s eaten
what was put onto their plate.
And that’s just the beginning.
I could rattle off some more…
But for little baby brother
all these rules go out the door!
He’s put into his high chair
with his plastic spoon and plate
and you’d not believe the chaos
that he’s able to create.
No sooner is he seated
than his spoon is knocked away,
the plate has been inverted
and his food has hit the tray.
He grabs the mush with fingers,
that he runs straight through his hair
and he saves a bit for missiles
that he launches from his chair.
He wriggles in his harness
as he giggles, burps and squeals.
He loves to get attention
when we’re sitting down to meals.
He downs his final mouthful
then, in keeping with the trend,
prepares the grand finale…
he explodes from either end.
My brother’s skills are many
and deserve to be admired
but his manners at the table
leave a lot to be desired!
© Jenny Erlanger
Dog life
They hurtle off towards the beach
to yap at gulls beyond their reach,
with noses raised to catch a whiff
of new, exciting things to sniff.
Their focus locked on sea and sand,
their thoughts deliciously unplanned,
these wet and shaggy kindred souls
are jumping waves and digging holes.
If only they could teach me how
to revel in the here and now,
to halt my thoughts before they stray
to all that lurks beyond today,
the back to school, the daily slog.
If only I’d been born a dog!
© Jenny Erlanger
Time out
The sun is slowly sinking,
slipping gently to the sea.
I put a stop to thinking,
set my thoughts and feelings free,
and take the time to marvel
that I occupy a place
on board a giant marble
spinning silently through space.
© Jenny Erlanger
Australian Children’s Poetry 