I am geometrically perfect
I am several hues of blue
I quiver on a perfect arc
My ovals three times two.
But wait, there is another
Oval, perched out on a limb
Is it meant to be my head
On a body oh, so slim?
My head, if that is what it is
Is a different bluish blue
Am I really me, have I fluttered have I danced
Or am I but an icon, something digitally enhanced?
Meg Mackey
If everything is going well,
And you can say, “I’m feeling swell!”
Then press the button on your right.
It’s cool and calm and painted white.
But if your life is in a mess,
The red button’s the one to press.
Sound the alarm, in just a tick,
We’ll all join in and “PANIC!”
Rattle, rattle, off we go.
At last we start the ride
and even now my stomach’s jumping
up and down inside.
Clackety – clack, we’re climbing up,
right up into the sky.
We’re at the top, I’m shaking now,
I know I’m going to die!
I grab the sides and close my eyes,
I’m really scared to death.
I scream, I yell the whole way down
till I run out of breath.
My eyes are sore, my mouth is dry,
my stomach leaps and churns.
My head is knocked from side to side
with all the twists and turns.
And all my little inside bits
are tangled like spaghetti.
I’m prickling almost everywhere,
my hands are cold and sweaty.
The carriage stops, and out I hop
and maybe I’m insane …
But I can’t wait to join the line
and do that ride again!
First published in “Giggles and Niggles” (Haddington Press, 2007)
Jenny said: This poem was inspired by the memory of my son’s reaction to his first roller coaster experience. Having just told me that he’d felt like he was going to die, he begged me to let him have another ride.
Watching you
I see a pale string
drifting out the door
stretching back
to where your parents died
in a faraway war.
In class you hold books
as if they were gold
squeal with delight
when the computer comes on
and now you smile
clap your hands
your voice tap-dances with English
making it hum
in mysterious ways.
You eat your lunch slowly
every bite precious
eyes scanning faces
looking for a smile
a spark of welcome
making the day
learning so much
teaching too.
Refugee Girl in the Playground by Duncan Richardson placed third in the 13th Kathleen Julia Bates Memorial Writing Competition.
Perfectly round
the moon comes into focus,
luminous, haloed,
almost close enough to touch.
In this lunar landscape
there are mountains, craters
highlands and valleys,
the Sea of Tranquility,
the Ocean of Storms.
Three days’ journey
catapulted through
the blackness of space
past comets, stars
and satellites to reach
my destination.
I’d land on the bright side
of the moon,
my boots sinking into
silvery dust, soft like snow,
I’d jump over moon rocks,
check for signs of life,
then I’d turn to face the earth,
blue and green and beautiful
and I would wave.
Looking at the Moon Through Binoculars by Vanessa Proctor was runner up in the 13th Kathleen Julia Bates Memorial Writing Competition.
I really think Earth needs another Moon.
It isn’t fair that we should have just one.
Only one to grace our heaven –
Jupiter has sixty seven.
Wouldn’t sixty seven moons be fun?
It isn’t fair Earth only has one Moon.
Even little Mars has got a couple.
If we followed them in flight,
Tracked their paths throughout the night,
Our necks would stay extremely loose and supple.
And why is Earth’s moon simply called “The Moon”?
I ask you, could it ever be more flat?
Saturn’s blessed with mighty Titan,
Neptune’s orbited by Triton.
Then there’s Ganymede. How cool is that?
I’m sure that NASA’d like a second moon –
Another astro-challenge to be won.
When the news screamed “Man on Moon!”,
Before we fell into a swoon,
We’d pop the question quickly: “Right. Which one?”
I plan to build a spaceship soon and travel to the stars.
My Dad says: “Land first on the moon, then buy more fuel on Mars.”
But will the Martians sell me fuel if I’ve no shopper docket?
I’ll ask my mum to give me one and keep it in my pocket.
At school we learned the nearest star is still quite far away.
This means the food I’ll need to pack must last more than one day.
So I should fit a cupboard in where food can all be stored
And for my rest, it’s surely best, to put a bed on board.
My spaceship must have windows where I’ll watch the stars at night.
For sleeping, I’ll make shutters to keep out their dazzling light.
Since stars will be much closer as I travel out in space
There’d hardly be much sleeping with them shining in my face!
I’ve worked it out. Without a doubt, my spaceship will be large.
I ought to contact Fuel Watch too, to learn what Martians charge.
I think perhaps I need more time. There’s so much I must do,
But once my spaceship’s ready, then I’ll say goodbye to you.
Or would you like to help me build and join me for the ride?
You needn’t answer straight away, there’s still time to decide,
But if you plan to come along, you too need food and bed.
So let’s just ask our mums to take us to the zoo instead.
Monty says: Space travel seems to fascinate many children and stimulate their imagination, long before they have any realistic concept of what it might involve.
On a shady pathway
In the park
I met a duck
Halfway up.
He waddled left,
He waddled right,
That duck on the steps
Was quite a sight.
I asked him, “What are you doing here?”
He said, “Practising my waddle, dear.”
We sat and chatted for a time
Then off he went
To continue his climb.
When he reached the top
He flapped his wings
And turned back to me
With a cheeky duck grin.
If you like to eat cold meat and consider that a treat,
Have you ever thought of adding chilli sauce?
Use a little, not a lot, since this sauce is rather hot
And you wouldn’t want to singe your tongue, of course.
Don’t be led astray by greed and take more than you will need.
If you do, I can assure you, you’ll regret it.
Though your tongue may twist and turn, your whole mouth will seem to burn
And I doubt you’ll soon be able to forget it!
Monty says: The pickle prompt got me thinking about other sauces and relishes which adults enjoy, but children’s palates may not be prepared for.
Cumin to my kitchen
is a warming winter soup
starring cauliflower of course
the biggest top in town.
Collected in my colander
Is my tender little troupe
but as I rinse them in a rivulet
something wriggles then rolls down
he has practiced this performance
to avoid birds and their beaks
he seems suited to a circus
he’s like a caterpillar clown
Australian Children’s Poetry 