Tag Archives: Margaret Pearce

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MY NANNA’S BAG

 

My Nanna’s arrival is a delight to see

But she’s only staying for afternoon tea.

 

She carries her coat and her umbrella furled

And the most exciting bag in the world.

 

She stands us in line for our hugs and kisses

And tells us how much she enjoys her visits.

 

After that she opens her bulging bag wide,

And out comes what she has packed inside.

 

First a chocolate cake for afternoon tea,

Liquorice and jelly beans for baby and me.

 

Then two jumpers, one blue and one pink,

One to wash and one to wear she says with a wink.

 

Out come some beads, a ball and two bats,

A doll and a pram and two calico cats.

 

Six pairs of crawlers made from old bedspreads,

And knitted striped beanies for everyone’s heads.

 

There’s a hammer and nails to mend the side fence,

Dad says now that’s a gift with plenty of sense.

 

Out comes a scooter and a skippy rope too,

And a most beautiful set of drums, brand new.

 

A bright crocheted rug to go on the bed,

Be lovely and warm, my mother said.

 

After the crayons, paints and a big picture book,

Nanna stopped delving so I had a good look.

 

Five peppermints and a half knitted sock remained

Nanna’s wonderful bag was empty and drained.

 

The grownups drank tea and ate most of the cake

Only smears and crumbs remained on that plate.

 

Nanna stood us in line for more hugs and kisses

And we all said how much we enjoyed her visits.

 

My Nanna took her coat and her umbrella furled,

And left with the emptiest bag in the world.

 

My Nanna’s departure was a very sad sight,

But she’ll be back to babysit Saturday night.

 

 

© Margaret Pearce

 

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THE KOALA AND THE CROCODILE

 

Ko-Ko Koala was a spoilt little brat.

He wouldn’t eat vegies in case he got fat.

‘Brussel sprouts and cabbage belong in the bin,

Lemonade and fudge keeps me nice and thin.’

 

‘Chicken and chips and hamburgers fried,

And chocolate donuts with cream inside

Taste much better for a Koala about town

Bush food is stodgy,’ he said with a frown.

 

His friends all got very very cross,

Bush food is filling but isn’t very posh.

Until there visited a crocodile

Jaws wide open in a hungry smile.

 

The little Koala was suddenly left,

Nobody liked the company he kept.

Ko-Ko wished the crocodile very far away,

But the crocodile stayed to talk of takeaway.

 

‘Bags of chips and popcorn for tea,

Plenty to eat if you dine with me.

If only you would come down nearer,

Our friendship could be so much dearer.’

 

The days went by, Ko-Ko got thin and wan,

Dreaming of takeaway meals long gone.

Getting very hungry so high off the ground,

He started eating gum leaves and grew very round

 

The crocodile still waited his eyes full of greed.

And kept renewing his invitation to feed.

‘There’s pineapple on pav with cream between,

And ice creams with flavours you’ve never seen.’

 

‘A diet of ice cream and potato chips fried,

Will give me tummy ache,’ scared Ko-Ko replied.

The crocodile sighed and at last lost his smile,

And decided to slink off home for a while.

 

And this is why the crocodile’s tears of grief

Are at the Koala’s love for the Eucalyptus leaf.

And for takeaway food Ko-Ko will never roam.

He finds plenty to eat in his tree top home.

Margaret Pearce

 

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MY GRAN’S PLACE

 

My Gran’s place is an unchanging one

And I always visit when horridly glum.

She doesn’t go in for changing trends

Of fashion, hairdo’s or marital friends.

 

Everything’s the same, as long as I’ve known

The clock in the hall, the old fashioned phone.

She opens her door with a welcoming smile

And says ‘Hello love, come in for a while.’

 

Mum’s moved to a flat, small but not cosy,

Door to door concrete, and neighbours nosy.

No bike riding, skateboarding or making a noise

Pets not allowed, and they hate little boys.

 

Sometimes I go to stay with Dad

but after a while I start to feel mad.

A fresh new start, my stepmother said

And threw everything out, even my bed.

 

The kitchen’s never messy with cooking,

Everything’s tidy and modern looking.

The back verandah is now a study,

With nowhere to leave anything muddy.

 

Gran’s furniture’s shabby, and I like it a lot,

A smoking wood stove, and soup in the pot.

The broken down stool in my favourite nook

The bookshelf that has my very first book.

 

An expensive video game sits at home,

But it doesn’t compensate for nights alone.

Dad takes me fishing and for drives galore

(He never acted like this before!)

 

My Gran’s world is warm and friendly,

Nothing there is ever trendy.

I love to visit when feeling blue,

And pretend that my world’s unchanging too.

 

Margaret Pearce

Previous published in House of Sprouts (OUP 1988) and Positive Words (May 2008)

 

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THE ECHIDNA

An echidna passed across a track

heading towards a special snack.

 

A naturalist muttered, ‘What a turn!

about this creature, I’ve got to learn.’

 

He kneeled to take a closer look

the echidna swung with strong right hook.

 

And it was such a heavy clout

it nearly knocked the watcher out.

 

The echidna curled into a prickly ball

snarling, ‘I don’t like you at all.’

 

The naturalist cried and mused upon

what it was that he’d done wrong.

 

He only wanted to see first hand

the weirdest creature in the land.

 

The echidna uncurled and stalked away

grumbling at his ruined day.

 

And idiots too dumb to know

you always let echidnas go –

 

About their business digging holes

and eating ants from salad bowls.

 

Or snuffling around a great big mound

Where tasty termites are always found.

 

To spare echnida watchers’ pain,

the moral of this tale is plain.

 

Always remember it’s very rude

to keep echidnas from their food.

 

Margaret Pearce

 

 

 

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THE BEACH HOLIDAY

 

The first time I saw surf,

Green and high and fringed with white.

A remorseless elemental, rolling

Forever into clean washed sands.

 

The delights of rock pools and ponies,

Of sand dunes and fishing,

Exploring the limitless space

and the boundless time of holiday.

 

The first time to catch a fish,

The first time to clean it

And the different taste when

Immediately fried golden brown.

 

The pale pale bowl of sky;

Where the days were so long

The sun paused and lingered

For untimed hours of dreaming.

 

And every pink dawn witnessed,

The low sleeping sandbanks rise

Out of the untroubled wash of the sea

And the seagulls shrieking challenge.

 

A brand new world to explore,

A precious gift, concrete and real,

New washed and promising

Every single morning.

 

My memories caught in an escape of flight.

Returned to a childhood of sheer delight.

 

© Margaret Pearce
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

poetry-prompt-7

Margaret said: No bottle in this poem, but the illustration brings up the feeling.

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THE BATTLE

 

On a Monday wet and cool,

I decided on a day off school.

 

‘Get up at once,’ my mother said,

So I threw up all over the bed.

 

I groaned about feeling really horrid,

She only had to feel my forehead.

 

I knew I was sick with something contagious,

But her disbelief was really outrageous.

 

I clung to my bed, so she just got meaner,

And bashed me with the vacuum cleaner.

 

The blood that flowed from my bleeding nose,

She washed away with the garden hose.

 

She hit me with the old straw broom,

And kept chasing me from room to room.

 

At last she drove me out of the house,

And called me a dirty conniving louse.

 

I threatened to fling myself under the bus,

Determined to end this dreadful fuss.

 

When thrown on the bus with a parting curse,

I knew that life couldn’t get much worse.

 

Still dripping blood, an awful bother,

The driver threw me back to mother.

 

Didn’t she scowl as she made the decision,

That I could stay home and watch television.

 

Margaret Pearce
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

poetry-prompt-4

 

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Forty all

 

This is the tale of a horrid blister,

caused directly by my sister.

 

I borrowed her shoes for a tennis twosome,

and soon my heel became very gruesome.

 

First it rubbed pink, and then bright red,

and as I played, it bled and bled.

 

There were pools of blood all over the place

Some of it splashed as far as my face.

 

I used plenty of bandaids, criss and cross,

and kept on playing, splish and splosh.

 

I slid and slithered around that court,

never was a game so wetly fought.

 

But in all that blood, I lost the ball,

so the game was ended, forty all.

 

My blistered heel was a dreadful pain,

but sister said it was a bloody good game.

 

Margaret Pearce

 

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FEAR

I’ve never dreaded witches

Who look such dreadful frights,

Flying over ditches

On dark and windy nights.

 

I never shake if fingers

Touch my face at night,

If of course it lingers

I then turn on the light.

 

I just ignore the bogies

Lurking in the dark,

Packs of fat old fogies

Looking for a lark.

 

If I ever saw a lion

I’d punch him on the nose.

I’ve nerves of steel and iron

As everybody knows.

 

I don’t believe in being scared

I’ve never seen a ghost,

For creepy tales I’ve never cared,

And that’s my favourite boast.

 

I’ve proved that I’m the bravest

Of super heroes still,

So why does that stupid dentist

Still scare me with his drill?

© Margaret Pearce

A version of this published HOUSE OF SPROUTS 1987

A version of this published in LOVE & FEAR  A Poetry Anthology 2003 by Artary Project Space (Community Arts Project Victoria)

 

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GEORGE’S NEW FRIEND

Once upon a time George’s constant moan,

Was ‘I’ve no one to play with, I’m always alone’.

 

No one to play with when flying a kite,

Or building a fort, or having a fight.

 

He scowled at his soldiers, in line by the wall,

With no one to fight, they were no fun at all.

 

He bounced his big red ball on the floor,

With no one to catch it, a terrible bore.

 

His mother took his red ball away,

And told him to go outside to play,

 

Outside in the yard, despite the bright sun,

George yelled that alone was no fun.

 

He kicked his go cart, painted bright red,

‘Needs someone to push it,’ he sulkily said.

 

Suddenly, George with great surprise,

Found a new playmate, just his size.

 

Someone to play chasey, tag and I spy,

To run beside him and jump just as high.

 

So every morning, when the sun is bright,

George’s new friend appears in sight.

 

Happy at last, George tells his Mum,

‘Me and my shadow are having great fun.’

 

© Margaret Pearce

 

 

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A BIRD UNIQUE

Hoo hoo hoo, and he haw hay

laughed the Kooka on his way.

 

After him the magpies chased

winging past in reckless haste.

 

What was it that the Kooka heard

to cause the magpies get so stirred?

 

An ornithologist rushed to meet

a magpie walking on two sore feet.

 

‘I’m scared to fly,’ the magpie wailed

‘They laughed at me because I failed.’

 

He then limped on, a bird unique,

an unhappy agoraphobic freak.

 

© Margaret Pearce