Moon-talk
Moon, creamy white stone,
precious . . . Stick with the legends –
better at a distance.
My litany could go on –
I don’t want to visit,
take a machine-ride against gravity
brain-open.
But if I change my mind
Moon won’t have any
say in it.
©Katherine Gallagher
(Published in The Eye’s Circle, Rigmarole Press)
I’m mad about . . .
I’m mad about honey
that’s runny and funny
I’m mad about cheese
that grows on old trees
I’m mad about chilli
that’s spice-cool and silly
I’m mad about eggs
and rainbow-striped veg
I’m mad about jam
on speckled green ham
I’m mad about pepper
the hotter the better
Sometimes it’s my turn
to take him to our house
for the weekend. We celebrate.
I give him the nicest titbits
And he spins and spins on his wheel.
When I take him out of his cage,
he wanders about my room.
He’s extremely curious
and sniffs at everything in his path.
But I watch him constantly
in case he zooms away.
Katherine Gallagher
(Published in A First Poetry Book, Macmillan Children’s Books, 2012, ed Gaby Morgan and Pie Corbett)
Teacher Notes: – for Primary years 7 – 11 years
Most of us have pets – fellow creatures that we care for and love.
In cities, sometimes it’s more difficult to have enough room for preferred pets such as rabbits or dogs and we may have to accept having smaller pets such as cats, hamsters and guinea-pigs.
Then again, a class may like to share caring for a pet as in this poem, ‘Our Class’s Hamster Horatio.’
Suggestion: Write about a pet you used to have at school.
Dog
Dog waits in and out of shadows.
Dog dives around chairs and feet.
Dog looks for the spill of hands.
Dog sings the Ballad of Less and More.
Dog sleeps with one eye open.
Dog’s life isn’t negotiable.
Dog circles moons of language.
Dog barks for homecomings.
Dog is a name away.
Remember you can’t lose Dog.
Sooner or later, Dog will find you.
©Katherine Gallagher, 2018
Circus-Apprentice
I’m learning it all – acrobatics, clowning,
fire from a sleeve: my hand’s a wand.
I weave my life around dancing elephants
who spray the air while turning their backs
on the crowd;
lions who never put a foot wrong.
I’m taking their cue, I’ve seen
what people want.
Prancing ponies teach me steps:
pacing, adroitness, like my fellow-dancers
keeping their spot.
I’m walking the high-wire, making my mark
poised, balanced, don ’t look away –
you are my gravity’s other edge.
© Katherine Gallagher
(Published in Carnival-Edge: New & Selected Poems (Arc Publications, 2010)
1942
They’d hoped he’d be back for Christmas –
the lights shining down on him, the tree
somehow shielding off the horror. A break.
The family hadn’t seen him as a soldier,
in his uniform, among harvested paddocks,
the dried stubble that pricked your legs.
Arriving home, he said Merry Christmas,
hugged people and slapped them on the back.
Wandered about the place, eyes crinkled
with strain, lines dug
into his forehead. So young, he seemed
to be either laughing or very sad
as though, in between,
there was nothing.
(From Tigers on the Silk Road, Arc Publications, 2000)
