Tag Archives: poems for children

The Wrong Wheels by Kylie Covark

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 When the humans were asleep

In nightgowns and nightcaps,

The midnight rat would creep inside

And feast upon their scraps.

 

The midnight rat was crafty,

The midnight rat was sly,

He’d always slink in shadows,

Unseen by human eyes.

 

But there was someone watching,

With eyes that gleamed in black,

The midnight rat could see him:

The cunning household cat.

 

The midnight rat was agile,

And cautious, quick and smart,

That cat could never catch the rat,

When the house was clothed in dark.

 

So the cat approached politely

And he bent down very low.

“Oh rapturous rat I love your work,

I do admire you so.

 

“But I would make a suggestion,

If I could be so bold.

A king like you should never dine

On scraps so soggy and cold.

 

“The humans have cake in the daytime,

And bread and scones and pies,

There’s so much good food in the daytime,

You wouldn’t believe your eyes.

 

“The only thing you really need,

Ask anyone who steals,

If you are going to make a getaway –

Is a brand new set of wheels.”

 

The rat told him to keep away

And ran off with his loot,

But then he started pondering

As he chewed on soggy fruit.

 

He was the Midnight Rat!

The cleverest rat by far!

It would be a snap for him

To build a speedy car.

 

And build away he did,

Though you may find it surprising,

The rat had made that car

By the time the sun was rising.

 

And he could smell the breakfast

And he didn’t stop to think,

The car whizzed straight inside

Faster than a blink.

 

And what a tale of glory!

What a momentous day,

The rat snatched a delectable haul

And was making his getaway.

 

But outside the car slowed

And the cat caught him with ease…

Instead of using tyres,

He had used four wheels of cheese.

 

As he watched them melting on the road

The rat knew we was done,

His greatest foe was not the cat

But that infernal sun.

 

The cat smiled a wicked grin,

“I never thought of that!

I think my favourite meal might be

Grilled cheese à la rat.”

 

Car Sick by Dianne Bates

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Green

Our fast green car

Green world

Stomach churning

Head spinning

Spinning

The world turning

Upside down

Downside up

Around and around

Wheels rolling

Streets passing

Blurred buildings

Blurred faces

Blur blur blur

Ur…

Dad, stop!

I’m going to throw …

 

Too late.

 

 

Warm and Fluffy by Celia Berrell

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The animals have hairy fur.

The birds have got their feathers.

These keep their bodies warm enough

throughout the chilly weather.

 

The fibres in those fluffy coats

criss-cross to form some air-holes

that can’t escape or waft away

because of all the hair-folds.

 

Their skin gives off some body-warmth.

Just like a radiator.

Their fluffy coats help keep that heat

as thermal insulators.

 

The warm air’s trapped inside the fur

to shield them from the outside.

The way that blankets on a bed

are cosy on the inside.

 

But if that fluffy coat gets wet

those air-holes fill with water.

Their body’s warmth escapes as that

wet coat’s a heat conductor.

 

The soggy fur clings to their skin.

No longer insulated.

And water makes their body cold

as it’s evaporated.

 

Any fluffy animal will

shake that water well away.

So if your puppy’s had a swim …

Watch-out for all that water spray!

 

 

A Goat Afloat by Pat Simmons

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A Goat Afloat

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 for company 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.

 

 

 

 

 

Feathers Fur or Fins by Robyn Youl

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Vertebrates are covered

In spikes, feathers and scales

Most mammals wear fur

Skin covers humans and whales

 

With skeletons covered

In scaled skins.

Fish breathe under water

And glide with their fins.

 

With skeleton covered

In thick armored plates

Eyes and nose above water

The crocodile waits

 

With skeleton covered

In skin soft and cool

Tadpoles become frogs

In creek, river and pool.

 

With hollow skeletons

And fragile feather

Birds swoop and soar

In flocks together

 

With skeletons covered

In thick fur or fine hair

Bats, seals and elephants

Share earth water and air

 

Birds of a Feather by Jackie Hosking

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There’s a paddling of ducklings in my lake
And a purr of pussycats half awake

There’s a trembling of finches on my lawn
And a purr of pussycats stretch and yawn

There’s a troubling of hummingbirds in my blossom
And a purr of pussycats playing possum

There’s a pitying of turtledoves cooing to their mate
And a purr of pussycats rubbing on the gate

There’s a quarrel of sparrows busy with their fight
And a purr of pussycats keeping out of sight

There’s a peep of chickens and a bevy of quails
And a purr of pussycats wagging their tails

But then, in the sky, is a murder of crows
And a prickle of pussycats hide in the rose

The Dreamers by Monty Edwards

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Once a waddling goose and gander

On a search for something grander

Left their farmyard to meander

Down a stream.

Now the goose was named Cassandra

And the gander, Alexander,

With a new home by the water

As their dream.

 

They had found the farmyard boring

With the crows’ incessant cawing

And the sleepy dogs all snoring

Through the day.

While the river looked appealing

And it gave the pair a feeling

In their new home by the water

They would stay.

 

But the farmer had been boasting

Of the geese he planned on roasting

At a dinner he was hosting

For his friend.

So he searched in haste to catch them

And he speedily despatched them.

Thus the dreamers by the river

Met their end.

 

Fantastic Feathers by Celia Berrell

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Compared to fur or human hair

feathers are a smart affair.

As down, their fluffy unzipped form

of under-feathers, keeps birds warm.

 

But barbs and barbules, shaft and quill

hide clues to how birds fly with skill.

Their contour feathers, zipped and long

make wafting wings so light yet strong.

 

From dowdy mums to vivid males

with crazy crests and splendid tails;

for camouflage or bright display

feathers have lots of roles to play.

 

First published in Double Helix (September 2015)
Reproduced with permission of CSIRO
www.doublehelix.csiro.au

 

Poem of the Day

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THE WINDOW MAN

 

He’s washing the windows across the road,

The Window Man in his yellow hat

He bends down low and he rubs the glass

With a sponge the shade of a ginger cat.

 

His hand goes round and round and round,

Then his head comes up to the middle bit

As he rubs away at a grubby patch

And helps it along with a lick of spit.

 

When he grips the sponge the corner points

Like a single ginger-pussy’s ear.

His long rag looks like a pussy’s tail,

But I don’t know what that’s doing here.

 

The sky grows dark, and a thunder clap

That makes me jump, sends him to the porch.

The clouds are so dark I can hardly see –

I wonder, won’t he need a torch?

 

The rain teems down, and the thunder booms.

He leans out to see if the clouds will break

As hail rattles down on his yellow hat –

And he drops his sponge, for goodness sake!

 

Their dog slinks in to avoid the hail

And seizes the sponge, then dodges round,

Growling and chewing. The Man yells, ‘Hoy!’

And it drops it out in the pouring rain.

 

Now the sponge has legs, but it’s lost its tail,

And its head is a funny sort of shape,

But the Window Man leaps off the porch

To grab it  — in case it decides to escape?

 

He squeezes the rain out and growls at the dog,

Who shrinks in the corner, her head on her paws,

While the Window Man drips. He could do with a squeeze!

But he’s got to get on with his windows and doors.

 

He ties up the sponge on the end of a stick

But there isn’t much left of its middle to rub,

For its legs wave about, and the stick scrapes along,

There just isn’t enough of the sponge left to scrub.

 

The top of the door glass is streaky all over.

He’s making it worse – what a silly chump.

Now his polishing rag is chewed up in the corner!

… the dog gives a yelp when the stick hits her rump.

 

As she leaps down the steps and gets lost round the corner

The Window Man’s rump hits the mat with a bump.

His angry roar lost in the roar of the thunder,

He rubs at his forehead. Ouch, what a lump!

 

I cannot imagine whatever he’ll do –

But all my own window’s covered with breath.

This cushion’s foam! So I grab my coat

And run to make up for his sponge’s death …

 

What would you think of a mum who ran

To save her cushion from the Window Man?

Dorothy B Williams

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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THE PLUGGING OF CHARLIE MCCARTHY

Charlie McCarthy ate lentils and beans

and barbeque onions as well

Folk started running when they saw Charlie coming

’cause he came with a terrible smell.

 

Charlie McCarthy was partial to farting

he farted whenever he walked.

The Mayor of the city said ‘It’s just such a pity

but his butt hole should really be corked.’

 

He called the town doctor, who was a proct-

ologist, told him seal Charlie’s bum,

‘Just fashion a plug that will fit nice and snug,

using rubber and plastic and gum.’

 

The doc corked up Charles, but then came the loud growls,

from deep within Charlie’s behind.

Doc said, quite abrupt ‘If you’re going to erupt,

dear Lord, Charlie boy, please be kind.’

 

Then the doctor, he saw,  Charlie’s puckered back door,

quite suddenly open and close.

It blinked, then it winked, then the sphincter that stinked,

spat the plug out at the doctor’s nose.

 

Well, then came a roar,  like no other before,

as fart after fart filled the room.

Charlie lit a match, and the town was dispatched

with one massive explosion…KA-BOOM!!!

Allan Cropper