A wiggle, a wobble
a scramble, a stumble
a nibble, a gnaw and a nip
a puddle of dribble
a bowl full of kibble
a trip and a slide and a slip
a tail that’s a’wagging
a small bottom dragging
a’scrapin’, a’scratchin’ and flinchin’
the tiniest paws
on the slipperiest floors
a pup on the tiles in the kitchen.
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.
If you want to be happy
As happy can be,
Try not to keep asking
“What’s in it for me?”
Enjoy what you have,
(Perhaps quite a lot)
And give far less thought
To what you have not.
Be happy you live,
Be happy you grow,
Be happy you learn
What many don’t know,
Be happy to help
A person in need,
Be happy you’re loved.
That’s happy indeed!
Monty says: Like adults, children can look for happiness in the wrong places and become disappointed and disillusioned with life. My aim in the poem was to offer a simple recipe for a different outcome.
On the first day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
Last year’s Christmas stocking
In the bottom was a pea
On the second day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A chewed up Christmas decoration
For our brand new tree
On the third day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A dug up bone from last year
And dumped it by my knee
On the fourth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
An old Santa hat
Found under the old settee
On the fifth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A bit of Christmas cake
To go with my cup of tea
On the sixth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A striped candy cane
Stolen from the tree
On the seventh day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A string of Christmas lights
He thought needed to be freed
On the eighth day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
A potato from the vegie patch
One less for Christmas tea
On the ninth day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
A freshly baked mince pie
And eyes that pleaded “feed me”
On the tenth day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
An old nativity book
Pages ripped out for me to see
On the eleventh day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
Santa’s special cookies
Left out for Santa’s feed
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A heart of Christmas cheer
Which was really all I need
Fly to the moon and share with me
Your dreams and angel dust
We’ll touch the stars and fill the air
With sparkles light and such.
Fly to the moon, look down and see
Blue oceans surge and swell
The fish will dance in moonglow,
Salty secrets yet to tell.
Fly to the moon and watch the earth
From way up high above
Turning ever turning
All magnificence and love.
We Wish You a Merry Birthday
My name is Noelle and I’m sorry to say
that I was born on Christmas Day,
after the presents but before the singing
(nonsense about sleigh bells ringing).
My father claimed he’d had a hunch
that I’d be born right after lunch
and so it was: Mum gave a shout!
Pudding went in, I popped out.
I wish, I wish, I really do
she’d held on for a week or two.
Each year I share my special day
with that festering, festive holiday.
Instead of balloons I get baubles.
My head aches as my family warbles
Christmas carols all day long—
I never get a birthday song
and though each year I get a cake
it’s always fruit, for goodness sake.
I always thought it couldn’t be worse
than a birthday with a tinsel curse
till my sister made my birthday cool—
she was born an April fool.
Jessica Nelson
Jessica said: I was guilty of having a baby on Christmas Day last year, and I’ve been filled in on the potential downsides of a birthday overshadowed by Christmas. I hope she always finds her birthday special, and I’ll be sure to sing her Happy Birthday every year.
Right across from my house is a garden sublime,
where it looks like it’s Christmas there all of the time.
There are several old pine trees all bushy and green,
with the largest brown pine cones that you’ve ever seen.
There’s a seat on the lawn that just looks like a sleigh,
simply waiting for reindeer to pull it away.
There are statues of angels turned up to the sky,
sculptured wings all out ready to fly, oh so high.
And then peeking round flowers quite pleased with themselves
are some colourful gnomes that could pass for the elves.
Now this garden belongs to a fellow called Dawes,
who looks very much like, the real Santa Claus.
He is jolly and round, with a beard snowy white
and he works in his workshop late into the night.
Each December he puts on a Christmas display,
that brings people to visit from far and away.
On the pine trees are baubles and lights that all shine.
There is tinsel, and snowflakes and gold stars divine.
Harnessed up to the sleigh stands a proud reindeer team,
with big Rudolph out front – his red nose all a-gleam.
All the angels now stand singing carols and hymns,
while the elves wear red hats each with festive white trims.
Now lean over close and I’ll whisper to you
a secret that’s known but to only a few.
A tale so amazing you may not believe
that magic takes place there on each Christmas Eve.
When darkness has fallen and shadows are deep,
the elves and the reindeer awake from their sleep.
All the angels fly over the sleigh sprinkling gold
and transform the old seat to a sight to behold.
A sack is now filled to the brim with bright toys,
for kind little girls and good little boys.
Mister Dawes dressed in red, then strides out to his sleigh,
quickly takes up the reins and flies quietly away.
It is just as the sun starts to rise Christmas morn,
that the reindeer fly quietly back onto the lawn.
In the instant they land things are back how they were,
All except for old Dawes, who is still dressed in fur.
As he’s done every year for a very long while,
He now looks to my window and gives me a smile.
I then nod and I wave as I sit there relieved,
again pleased that in magic, I’ve always believed.
Caroline said: This poem was inspired by the garden of my mum’s friend Sue – she loves Christmas and each year, when I was a child, we’d visit her in the lead up to Christmas Day. Her house and garden were always full of beautiful decorations and it seemed a totally magical place – as close to the real Santa’s house and garden as you could get.
Last night I saw something that
I’d never seen before.
This something that I’d never seen
was right outside my door.
It made me gasp aloud with shock
the moment that I saw it.
The something was so big and red
I couldn’t dare ignore it.
I quickly jumped out of my bed,
tip-toed across the floor.
I had to know about this thing
I hadn’t seen before.
As soon as I crept close to it
my heart began to race.
I saw the thing was not a thing
because it had a face!
My body shook from head to toe,
my mind was full of fear.
There was someone that I’d never seen
and he was very near.
I stared in shock at his red coat,
his boots of blackest black.
I saw the pompom on his hat,
the bulging big red sack.
And then I had to laugh out loud.
You know why, I’m sure.
That someone was not scary at all.
It was Santa that I saw.
Cautiously, creeping down the stairs,
carefully avoiding the creaks,
we stop
and take each other’s hand.
At the bottom we tiptoe,
trembling,
towards the door.
Almost afraid to breathe
we slowly, gently, push it open.
Beneath the twinkling lights
sit the gifts.
‘He’s been,’ we whisper
‘He’s been.’
(Published 2014 by Celapene Press, Short and Twisted and Thynks Publications Bards at Blidworth and Beyond Anthology)
Australian Children’s Poetry 