Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Flame Trees

 

Come November

the flame trees

begin to wear their fire.

Over there a winking ember

peeps cautiously

from a green crown,

hinting at Christmas

and stirring nervous thoughts

of fire in green places,

 

while nearby, an extrovert,

naked through winter,

makes a spectacle of herself

in the full flare

of a brand new red dress.

 

How do I look?

she asks seductively,

 

and even the old Jacarandas

in their cool quenching blue

offer nothing but

compliments.

©  Kate O’Neil
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

poetry-prompt-3

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Moonwatch

We’re studying the moon –

drawing it, remembering all the moons

we’ve ever seen.

 

Just now, through the window,

there’s a daylight-moon looking fragile,

egg-shell soft, pale white.

 

I’ve no plans to go up there

whizzing through the  blue,

landing on the pearly moon.

 

But I can’t stop thinking

about a blood-orange full moon

I saw inching up

 

into the summery sky.

It moved so slowly,

became a golden balloon

 

that never hurried.

I wanted to follow it,

catch it. But I never did.

 

© Katherine Gallagher

 

(Published in Read Me, (Macmillan, 2009, ed. Gaby Morgan)

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #3

poetry-prompt-3

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Summer

 

Is as hot as buttery toast.

Cooling dips to wash the sticky ickiness away,

Reclining in movies to munch on choc tops,

Chit chatting to friends to stay connected,

Soaking up joyous Summer freedom.

 

Summer fairs to laugh and whizz and bang on rides,

It’s okay to just be,

Baking hot sun is no fun,

An ancient tree to gaze underneath.

 

Summer breeze kisses my face,

Sea spray to tickles my salty toes,

Oh how I love the sea.

 Karen Hendriks

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

The Bin Brigade

 

They’re trundled to the roadside in the fading evening light

to form a guard of honour down the street.

In silence they stand waiting through the hours of the night

for Friday morning’s weekly garbage fleet.

 

Identical in stature, proud and rigid in their pose

they solemnly and dutifully wait.

A vast, impressive regiment of straight and perfect rows,

they stand as one, prepared to meet their fate.

 

Together they are ready for the wretchedness in store,

the gross humiliation they all share.

They can’t escape the horror of that ugly metal claw

that sends them flying up into the air.

 

They’re mercilessly tilted till their mouths are opened wide,

then shaken to unstick whatever’s stuck.

Their stomachs start to rumble, then from somewhere deep inside

they vomit all their contents in the truck.

 

Jenny Erlanger

 

{Awarded third prize in the “Adults writing for children” category of the C J Dennis Poetry Competition in 2016.}

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

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)

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Wacky Words

 

Perhaps you thought a pillar was a man who swallowed pills,

Which had flavours like vanilla and were meant to cure his ills,

But no pillars will be sickly, for they’re strong and stout and tall.

They are there to hold the roof up and without them it would fall.

 

Perhaps you thought a meddler was a man who went to war

And then came back home with medals that he didn’t wear before,

But most meddlers are a nuisance, for they like to interfere,

So that when they finish meddling, then their victims give a cheer!

 

Perhaps you thought a pedlar would be one to ride a bike,

Pushing pedals from its saddle with no wish to drive or hike,

But while pedlars can be mobile, for they have their wares to sell,

They may spread their goods on pavement and walk to your door as well.

 

It’s true, some words we read in books can give the wrong idea,

But using helpful dictionaries can make their meanings clear.

Now no pillars, pedlars, meddlers, should be leaving you perplexed,

So I wonder what the word will be you’ll want to look up next!?

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #34

Poetry Prompt #34

Monty says: “I wasn’t getting far with the picture, so began to look at the actual words “column” and “pillar” and thought how a child unfamiliar with their meaning might interpret them. In the process some other words that could be misunderstood came to me and I had the material for a light-hearted poem about our seemingly crazy language.”

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Plastic

 

Useful, cheap, convenient,

Found everywhere in our seas.

Endless uses.

It floats, swims, travels,

Found in hungry bellies.

Entangles and traps sea life.

 

Our Sea

Once clean and pristine,

Full of plastic debris,

No longer free of you,

On the sea bottom,

On the sea top,

No escape from you.

 

Crying Sea

How much longer can the sea put up with you?

Or will the sea just become a murky plastic soup?

Please stop the plastic poisoning,

Before it’s too late.

Stop making useless waste,

That hurts and kills me.

Karen Hendriks

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

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

 

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

Sleep

 

Last night

we glowed like rainbows

as drumbeats

shook the air

 

Tonight

dinner, toothbrush

quiet

 

It’s too early

Let’s have some fun

One more story

 

I don’t want to

go to sleep

I don’t want to

go to sleep

 

I

don’t

want

to

go

to

 

Nadine Cranenburgh

 

Poem of the Day

Leave a comment

A sparkling summer

Christmas is coming,

Our school year’s complete.

It’s time for admiring,

As we walk street to street.

 

On doors we see wreaths

of green and red  holly.

On  balconies, sleighs,

and Santas fat and jolly.

 

The streets are not dark,

Even though it’s late,

For blinking and winking

On tree, fence or gate

Is a string of sparkling LED lights.

 

Our suburb’s gone magic

With colours so bright

We’ll visit again,

A new street each night.

 

But I’m glad that the sparkling

Is a Christmas-time treat

Like presents and cicadas,

and too much to eat.

 

The year keeps on turning,

Christmas is almost over.

Tomorrow is New Year’s Day

So tonight we’re all going

To the fireworks display.

Viv Nicoll-Hatton
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #50

poetry-prompt-50