Tag Archives: Jenny Erlanger

Poem of the Day

2 Comments

On Your Marks

 

I’ve turned into jelly.

I don’t have the strength.

My stomach is stuck in my throat.

Why did I say I could swim a whole length?

I don’t even know how to float.

My goggles are loose,

should have tightened the strap.

What if they happen to leak?

And what if my bathers just suddenly snap?

I’ll be laughed at the rest of the week.

What if I don’t make the end of the race?

What if I give up all hope?

I’ll never be able to lift up my face

if I have to hold onto the rope.

My stomach is churning,

I’m still feeling bad,

I’m freezing… and there goes the gun!

I’m kicking,

I’m splashing,

I’m swimming like mad.

Will I make it?

I have!

And I’ve won!

 

Jenny Erlanger

First published in “Giggles and Niggles” (Haddington Press, 2007)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #13

Jenny said: I was always a very nervous competitor in school swimming sports and dreaded the sound of the starting pistol.

 

 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

First day of school

 

I’ll soon be walking through that door,

I’ve waited all these years.

But nothing’s quite prepared me for

this sudden flood of tears.

I know that I will be OK,

I’ll take whatever comes,

as soon as I can get away

from all these weeping mums!

Jenny Erlanger

 

First published in “Hopscotch” (Jellibeanz Publications, 2011)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

poetry-prompt-4

 

Poem of the Day

4 Comments

 

The class photo

The photo man’s getting quite hot in the face,

he really is looking a mess.

He’s spent a whole hour trying to get us in place

but he hasn’t had any success.

 

Annabelle’s tripped over Christopher’s chair

and Bethany’s started to bleat

’Cause Ben spat his chewing gum into her hair

after stomping on both of her feet.

 

Emma keeps poking her tongue out at Rose,

Alison’s taking a nap.

The girls in the front are adjusting their bows

and won’t keep their hands in their lap.

 

Tom’s spilled the drink he’s been secretly slurping

all over the back of my neck

and someone above me keeps farting and burping.

The photo man’s looking a wreck!

 

He’s glaring at me and I wish I could hide,

he’s just about out of his mind.

But it’s hard to keep both of my hands by my side

when I’m poked in the ribs from behind.

 

We’ve finally stopped all the wriggles and squeals

but I’m not sure the photo’s still on

’cause the photo man’s suddenly turned on his heels

And he’s packed up the camera and gone.

Jenny Erlanger
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

poetry-prompt-4

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

Advance Australia (un)Fair

 

I think it’s time our anthem changed,

there’s something very wrong.

That third verse must be rearranged.

to validate the song.

 

“For those who’ve come across the seas”,

we can’t fulfill their prayer.

I’m really sorry, refugees.

We have no “plains to share”.

Jenny Erlanger

 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

The Bin Brigade

 

They’re trundled to the roadside in the fading evening light

to form a guard of honour down the street.

In silence they stand waiting through the hours of the night

for Friday morning’s weekly garbage fleet.

 

Identical in stature, proud and rigid in their pose

they solemnly and dutifully wait.

A vast, impressive regiment of straight and perfect rows,

they stand as one, prepared to meet their fate.

 

Together they are ready for the wretchedness in store,

the gross humiliation they all share.

They can’t escape the horror of that ugly metal claw

that sends them flying up into the air.

 

They’re mercilessly tilted till their mouths are opened wide,

then shaken to unstick whatever’s stuck.

Their stomachs start to rumble, then from somewhere deep inside

they vomit all their contents in the truck.

 

Jenny Erlanger

 

{Awarded third prize in the “Adults writing for children” category of the C J Dennis Poetry Competition in 2016.}

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Hide and seek

 

I climb to the top, which is ever so high,

I straddle a branch with my head in the sky

and pause for a moment to contemplate why

I’d ever return to the ground.

 

I’m happy to sit here for hours, it’s true.

It’s great to have nothing specific to do.

I’ll sit and enjoy this magnificent view

until I am finally found.

 

If I were a bird this is where I would stay.

This view would be mine to observe every day,

a vast checkered quilt stretching out to the bay,

a truly spectacular sight.

 

The cows in the paddocks are tiny brown dots,

the cars just a series of bright coloured spots

and far in the distance are miniscule yachts,

their sails little  speckles of white.

 

The hours slip by as I gaze at the scene

of miniature houses surrounded by green,

a setting so stunning, so hushed and serene

that glows in the afternoon sun.

 

And now as the daylight is fading away

the colours below me are turning to grey

and thousands of sparklers have come out to play.

The evening show has begun.

 

A dog far beneath me has started to bark

and suddenly people flock into the park.

They’re busily rummaging round in the dark

and shouting wherever they go.

 

I’m sure something terrible must have occurred.

I’m straining to recognize voices I’ve heard.

I peer from my branch like a curious bird

at all of the action below.

 

And now, at the base of this towering pine

the dog I heard barking has started to whine.

I watch from this marvelous hideout of mine

as everyone heads for my tree

 

And suddenly everything’s perfectly clear.

I could be in trouble, I’m starting to fear.

I know why these hundreds of people are here.

I bet they’re all looking for me.

 

 

Jenny Erlanger

This was awarded third prize in the “Adults writing for children” category of the Toolangi Poetry Competition in 2015.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

4 Comments

The bigger picture

 

The wavelet had frolicked for hours that day

with no cause at all to be wary

when met by a vision just metres away

so dire and so terribly scary.

 

A larger wave surging from somewhere behind

could sense little wave’s consternation.

It said, “You look anxious and if you don’t mind

let’s pause for a brief conversation”

 

“But look at that beach and you’ll see what’s in store,”

said little wave, helplessly crying.

“Those waves up ahead have all crashed on the shore.

I tell you, we waves are all dying!”

 

The little wave quivered in utter despair.

“I’m frightened to death,” it persisted .

“I know I’ll expire on that sand over there

with nothing to show I existed.”

 

“Relax”, said the larger wave, “go with the flow,

there’s no need for all this commotion.

You’re not a forgettable ripple, you know…

you’re part of a beautiful ocean.

 

Jenny Erlanger

Jenny said: This poem is based on a tale told by  Morrie Schwartz in the book, “Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Snack time

I hope Mum’s packed a donut

in my play lunch for today,

I feel like something sugary and sweet.

A piece of carrot cake

would go down well, I have to say,

or chocolate cake, an even better treat!

Or even cubes of tasty cheese

with slices of kabana.

Let’s see what yummy snack my Mum has made…

One crummy little biscuit

and an overripe banana?

Would anybody like to do a trade?

Jenny Erlanger
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #45

 

poetry-prompt-45

Jenny said: Reading the latest “food” prompt poem, “Lunchboxing” reminded me of a poem I wrote several years ago along the same theme. I thought I’d share it with others who remember being disappointed with the offerings put in their lunch box.

Poem of the Day

2 Comments

How to get rid of peas

 

Slip a couple up your sleeve,

that way you can’t go wrong

but first take care the sleeves you wear

are pretty tight and long.

Then accidentally bump your plate –

that should get rid of more.

Your Mum would never make you eat

the peas that hit the floor.

Another thing that’s hard to do

but really worth the wait

is slip some peas when no one sees

onto your sister’s plate.

And then (don’t say I told you)

if you’re desperate I suppose

you could shove some up your nostrils

and then quickly blow your nose.

By now you should have lost the lot.

If not, may I suggest

you think of other ways yourself

to deal with all the rest.

Jenny Erlanger

 

First published in “Giggles and Niggles” (Haddington Press, 2007)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #45

poetry-prompt-45

Poem of the Day

2 Comments

A ball, a dog and us

 

You look as if you’re giggling

and your tail is madly wriggling

Yes, I know that all you want to do is run.

 

But, Poppet, we’re not racing

and we’re tired of all the chasing.

I’m warning you, this isn’t any fun!

 

I thought that you adored me

and is this how you reward me?

If I were you, I’d hang my head in shame.

 

You’re going to cop it, Poppet

if you don’t let go and drop it.

Just stop it!

You are ruining our game!

 

Jenny Erlanger
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #41

poetry-prompt-41