Poppies for Poppy
Poppies are the colour red
From The Great War it is said
It became known as World War One
When the second war came along
Poppies droop like they are sad
About the countries that were mad
lots of people died from wars
mostly for a crazy cause
My Poppy is my daddy’s dad
And around this time he too, gets sad
We march the streets 11th November
and for all the fallen, we remember.
The Lion in the Mirror
My mirror isn’t looking right
kitty mewed today
it doesn’t really seem like me
in any single way
For I’m just a
little itty bitty
tiny fluffy ginger kitty
Something’s broke
and it’s no joke
who is this feline hairy bloke?
A pony named Bubbles
when I was young
would give us rides
he was so much fun
he was round and red
with gloss and fat
but his Bubbles name
didn’t come from that
nothing to do with
shape or weight
but it did come about
from what he ate
once you were safely
upon his back
he’d set off unbidden
to his favourite snack
hidden behind where
gardeners don’t go
between the stables
where thistles grow
off you’d trot
when he’d had his fill
across the paddock
and over the hill
the thistles would gurgle
inside his tummy
and then the noises
which were really quite funny
it was long ago
but I’ve never forgotten
those bubbles from Bubbles
straight out of his bottom
Get outside and play you kids,
my mother said one day,
go climb a tree, or fly a kite,
just get outside and play.
But the tree is small,
the kite is broke,
it’s been raining here all day.
We have to stay inside today,
it’s far too wet to play.
We’ll have a look, the oldest said,
and find a middle ground.
We’ll channel surf the TV now
and see what can be found.
A show on rocks and mountain tops,
fresh air, and stuff like that
and here is one of flies in flight
and how to clip a cat.
Us younger ones are crying out
how boring are all those!
The oldest one just winks at Mum
and gets out raincoat clothes.
Myra says: Thinking about kids on school holidays and Mum wanting some peace and quiet. My sister was 10 years older than me and wise beyond her years.
Australian Children’s Poetry 