Our feet make a crackling
crunching sound
as we walk.
We stop
and
crouching down,
discover another world.
A world of mini workers
caring for our environment.
Beetles breakfasting,
Meandering munching millipedes,
Snails, showing off their spirals,
Earthworms turning the soil.
Lives under leaf litter
A secret space.
Pat Simmons
Pat says: Ever since I was a child I’ve loved mini beasts (some would call them creepy crawlies). During my career in children’s services as a child care educator, teacher and trainer I delighted in sharing my passion with children by taking my ‘minibeast family’ to child care centres.As a writer, they still inspire me and, yes, I still have a collection of critters including stick insects and rain forest snails.
I wear a silver collar, I’m a rather special goat.
Hooves firmly planted on the ground, but once I was afloat.
‘A goat afloat?’ I hear you say. It’s true. Ask Captain Cook.
Twice I’ve sailed around the world.
I’d like to write a book
Called
Memoirs of my life at sea
Jottings by a goat
The good the bad the ugly facts
Of life upon a boat
Well, all right, ships
Let’s get it right
Named
Dolphin and Endeavour
And with respect, I must say this,
I really hope I never set hoof again on either one.
Three years was long enough.
Giving milk for all that time quite frankly dears was tough.
Smelly sheep and smelly hens, smelly cattle too
Smelly cats and smelly dogs
And very smelly crew.
Snow and storms and slippery decks, fresh grass in short supply.
No other goats to chatter with to help the time pass by.
But now I’m home and quite well known
(My story’s in the press)
Enjoying my retirement, free from stormy seas and stress.
I wear a silver collar, I’m a rather special goat.
Hooves firmly planted on the ground, but once I was afloat.
Pat Simmons
Gum boots when it’s raining
Sports shoes when I’m training
Sparkly shoes for dancing
Riding boots for prancing
Sandals for a summer’s day
High heeled shoes for dress up play
Then sadly comes that time of year
When Mum says, ‘Let’s go shopping dear.
Your feet keep growing, time to choose
A nice new pair of (yuk!) School Shoes.’
Pat Simmons
Small jars, tall jars, boxes too,
Zoe needs them for her zoo.
In the garden, in the sun
is where she finds Exhibit One.
A caterpillar munching leaves,
Zoe stoops, rolls up her sleeves
and carefully with finger tips
(just in case this critter nips)
places it inside a jar.
Pops on the lid.
He won’t get far.
Crouching in a damp dark spot,
armed with just a yogurt pot
she spots a tell-tale silver trail.
Exhibit Two, a friendly snail.
With trusty trowel she fills a jar
then doesn’t have to dig too far
before she spots a sudden squirm.
Exhibit Three, a wriggling worm.
Exhibit Four sits in a box,
wearing gloves and scarf and socks.
His cage says, ‘Dangerous Beware.
Please Don’t Feed This Teddy Bear.’
A tiny cubby made from sticks
houses numbers Five and Six.
A beetle and a millipede
curled up like a shiny bead.
Exhibit Seven’s tied to a tree.
He’s rather dangerous you see.
A dinosaur might stomp around
and squish those caged upon the ground.
She needs to find Exhibit Eight
who’s sitting calmly on the gate.
Zoe has to pull and tug
to capture this majestic slug.
Now who will be the final two
to join the gang at Zoe’s Zoo?
She has to build a great big pen
to house Exhibits Nine and Ten.
Her work is done.
She gives a shout.
‘Mum and Daddy, please come out.’
‘Gotcha!’
Pat Simmons
An arthritic arachnid with eight knobbly knees
Sought medical help for her painful disease.
Her doctor prescribed her with cream to rub in
But the problem was how and just where to begin!
Pat Simmons
Rescue
He’s funny looking.
He isn’t a puppy.
I say to Mum
He has sad eyes.
Dad says
Maybe we can make those sad eyes happy.
I say to Dad
He’s skinny.
Mum says
Maybe we can make him fatter.
Does he do tricks?
Maybe you could teach him some.
But I don’t know him
And he doesn’t know me.
So many dogs.
So much noise.
We walk up and down
Looking at the dogs.
So many dogs
But we come back to him.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
He doesn’t bark.
He just looks.
Hopefully.
They open his cage.
He just looks
Then he licks my hand.
This is the one I say.
This is the one he says.
Pat Simmons © 2015
Creepy Stuff
I don’t like vampires
They’re toothy and scary
I cannot stand werewolves
They’re noisy and hairy
But ghosts, I just love them
They glide across halls
And what’s even cooler
They glide right through walls.
Pat Simmons © 2014
Sally’s Secret
Sally McPhee’s a collector of keys
She keeps them concealed in a drawer.
Some she has found just lying around
But several she stole from next door.
She has keys that lock windows
And keys for the shed.
She’s got keys for some diaries
She hasn’t yet read.
She has keys for a money box
Owned by her brother
And keys for the Volvo
Misplaced by her mother.
She has keys for a tool box
Her father’s great treasure.
To see him in search mode
Gives Sally such pleasure.
She has keys that are ancient
And keys that are new
Well, people are careless
That’s Miss Sally’s view.
Sally McPhee’s a collector of keys
She keeps them concealed in a drawer.
Her intention is clear
That year after year
She’s going to collect hundreds more.
Pat Simmons © 2014
Portrait of a Puddle
I can tell you about the weather.
Am I growing or shrinking?
I can show you how a paper boat floats
and be a mirror for your smiling face.
I can be a drink for a thirsty bird,
or a short slurp for a cat on the prowl.
I can annoy new shoes,
but splashing gum boots love me.
I can be a short stay hostel
for tadpoles or mozzie larvae.
I can be temporary and tempting.
I have possibilities and potential.
I am a puddle.
© Pat Simmons
Australian Children’s Poetry 