Tag Archives: Jill McDougall
Fire
Leave a commentFire! (published in Anna the Goanna 2000)
Jill McDougall
Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
were travelling south
where the icy winds blew.
As night came around,
they found some flat ground
in the shade of a cave
where the river gums grew.
“It’s freezing down here,”
grumbled Old Kangaroo.
“But I’ll make a good fire
to warm us right through.
I’ve never seen trees
As enormous as these,
I’m sure I can find us a big log or two.”
So into the bush
Hopped Old Kangaroo,
Straight to the place
Where the biggest trees grew.
He was back in a while
With a humungous pile,
“This is great,” said his mate, “cos I’m shivering too.”
Then Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
fetched small sticks and big sticks
and old sticks and new.
They even took leaves
from the bushes and trees.
“This will soon warm our bones,” laughed the triumphant two.
As the fire came alive,
the old fellows threw
more branches, more logs,
and a giant tree or two.
Way up on high
they could see the sparks fly.
“I’m feeling much warmer,” said Old Kangaroo.
Then down from the ranges,
a little breeze blew,
and it whistled and whined
through the trees as it grew.
Soon everywhere
in the hot smoky air,
sparks from the roaring fire floated and flew.
“Now I’m … ouch! … much too hot,
complained Old Kangaroo,
“Well my feathers are melting,”
cried poor Cockatoo.
And as a fresh breeze
carried sparks to the trees,
the two silly friends were beginning to stew.
“Bushfire!” At last cried one of the two,
“Everything’s burning!
What are we to do?”
But try as they might,
it was too late to fight,
for feathers and fur were burning up too.
Yes, feathers and fur were burning up too –
Nothing was saved
as the fire roared through.
All the birds and the bees,
all the bushes and trees,
all the creatures that lived there,
had perished there too.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Many years later, a young kangaroo,
was travelling south
with his mate Cockatoo.
They stopped at the scene
where the fire had been,
and decided to camp
where the river gums grew.
“I’m shaking with cold,”
said one of the two.
“Let’s have a fire
to warm us right through.
I’ll get some sticks,
and a few little bits.
We don’t need too much –
just a small fire will do.”
Jill McDougall
Fire
Leave a commentFire! (published in Anna the Goanna 2000)
Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
were travelling south
where the icy winds blew.
As night came around,
they found some flat ground
in the shade of a cave
where the river gums grew.
“It’s freezing down here,”
grumbled Old Kangaroo.
“But I’ll make a good fire
to warm us right through.
I’ve never seen trees
As enormous as these,
I’m sure I can find us a big log or two.”
So into the bush
Hopped Old Kangaroo,
Straight to the place
Where the biggest trees grew.
He was back in a while
With a humungous pile,
“This is great,” said his mate, “cos I’m shivering too.”
Then Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
fetched small sticks and big sticks
and old sticks and new.
They even took leaves
from the bushes and trees.
“This will soon warm our bones,” laughed the triumphant two.
As the fire came alive,
the old fellows threw
more branches, more logs,
and a giant tree or two.
Way up on high
they could see the sparks fly.
“I’m feeling much warmer,” said Old Kangaroo.
Then down from the ranges,
a little breeze blew,
and it whistled and whined
through the trees as it grew.
Soon everywhere
in the hot smoky air,
sparks from the roaring fire floated and flew.
“Now I’m … ouch! … much too hot,
complained Old Kangaroo,
“Well my feathers are melting,”
cried poor Cockatoo.
And as a fresh breeze
carried sparks to the trees,
the two silly friends were beginning to stew.
“Bushfire!” At last cried one of the two,
“Everything’s burning!
What are we to do?”
But try as they might,
it was too late to fight,
for feathers and fur were burning up too.
Yes, feathers and fur were burning up too –
Nothing was saved
as the fire roared through.
All the birds and the bees,
all the bushes and trees,
all the creatures that lived there,
had perished there too.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Many years later, a young kangaroo,
was travelling south
with his mate Cockatoo.
They stopped at the scene
where the fire had been,
and decided to camp
where the river gums grew.
“I’m shaking with cold,”
said one of the two.
“Let’s have a fire
to warm us right through.
I’ll get some sticks,
and a few little bits.
We don’t need too much –
just a small fire will do.”
Jill McDougall
New Poem of the Day
5 Comments
The Secret
Can you keep a secret? Good!
Cos this one’s super hot –
In my desk, amongst the mess,
I found a …. you-know-what.
Now promise you won’t tell a soul
Not even Mary-Lou,
I turned it round and then I found
A note from you-know-who.
I laughed so hard my tonsils ached
I thought I’d nearly die,
It must have happened you-know-when
Because of … you-know-why.
Now don’t you go and blab all this
To Rosie and her lot,
If you do, I’m warning you,
They’ll give us you-know-what.
Jill McDougall
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17
Poem of the Day
5 CommentsWhiz Kids
Kate’s the quickest in our class
At working fractions out,
Wayne’s a whiz at Mental Maths,
He doesn’t mess about.
Tran’s a turbo-jet on skates,
But Polly owns the pool,
She swims the 100 metres
Like a fish on rocket fuel.
Sam’s a super sprinter,
Always first across the line,
Jess is quick to say, “Well done,”
And give the thumbs-up sign.
Chen’s a champ at cleaning up,
He empties every bin!
Emmy’s quickest with a joke,
And William’s quick to grin.
Me? I’m the lazy, laid-back type,
I like to take things slow,
But when Ms Mark says, “Class dismissed,”
Well, you should see me go!
Jill McDougall
Poem of the Day
2 CommentsCharlie’s Lunch
Oops!
I’ve got my brother’s lunchbox
With The Wiggles on the lid,
He must have picked up mine instead
(He’s just a little kid.)
So Charlie’s got my health bar
And my favourite yoghurt snack,
And I’ve got little kiddie lunch –
Too late to change it back.
I could go and see the teacher,
But she’ll say, “Don’t bother me,”
I guess I’m stuck with Charlie’s lunch,
I’ll be half starved by three.
Here we go….what is this stuff?
One tin of custard pears,
Two egg and lettuce sandwiches
Cut into tiny squares,
Three cherry drops with jelly tops,
Four skinny carrot sticks,
Five cubes of watermelon, no,
You’d better make that six.
And right down at the bottom is-
What’s this! A chocolate crunch!
WOW!
Where’s my place? I need some space,
I’m having Charlie’s lunch.
Jill McDougall
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4
Poem of the Day
1 CommentHaughty cuisine
Our special today is the ostrich mornay
on a bed of wild Spanish weeds,
drizzled with slivers of slow-roasted livers
and garnished with shaved parsley seeds.
Served on the side is an elephant hide
in a parcel of puffed pastry wings,
sprinkled with dew from the mists of Peru
and finished with seared apron strings.
What’s that you say? You don’t like mornay?
And you’ll pass on the shaved parsley seeds?
Can it be true that you’re not keen on dew?
And you’ve never thought fondly weeds?
Do we have WHAT? No, I’m sure we do not
Have a single sausage or chip.
But I suppose we could grill a beef tube from Brazil
served with French strings and ocean-salt dip.
Jill McDougall
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #45
Poem of the Day
4 CommentsSummer
The sun is warm, the fish are biting
Snapper, squid and shoals of whiting
Ice-cream jingles sound inviting –
Summer’s on its way.
The breeze is up, the current’s running
Tourists bare their legs for sunning
Seagulls stealing chips are cunning –
Summer’s on its way.
The sky is bright, the waves are rolling
Zinc-nosed lifeguards are patrolling
Cricket-crazy kids are bowling –
Summer’s here – let’s play!
Jill McDougall
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #47
Poem of the Day
2 CommentsHere come the Martians
Here come the Martians, green as peas
as my spacecraft lands in thick brown seas.
They swamp my ship like some disease
so I zap myself to the broccoli trees.
As I grab my fork-shaped Ultra-Stun,
the Martians squeak (in Martian) “Run!”
They hide beneath a buttered bun
but I take them prisoner one by one.
I’m having super-cosmic fun
when Humanoid Robot XP One
drones: Earth to Mars – this is your mum
do NOT play with your dinner son!
Jill McDougall
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #45
Poem of the Day
4 CommentsIf
If
I was a pin
I’d
pull myself together.
If
I was a bulldozer
I’d
make the grade.
If I was a roof
I’d
be on top of things.
If
I was a poem
I’d
be well-versed.
If
I was a dictionary
I’d
know the meaning of life.
But
I’m a house and
I’m
thick as a brick.
