There’s a box
It just arrived
Especially for me
No one saw it arrive.
I wish I knew what was inside
It says ‘Only open if you dare’
I wonder what it could be?
It’s a complete mystery.
The outside gives no clues
The danger lies within
I run my fingers lightly across the top
It’s too late now
I signed for it at the door
It might send me flying into space
I can’t bear it anymore
I carefully untie the bow.
My eyes dare to peek inside
I smile with delight
For it’s something money can’t buy
A key to another world.
Dare I go inside…
tted in response to Poetry Prompt #30
What has my tummy got inside?
I often sit and wonder.
(Sometimes it makes the strangest noise,
like very angry thunder.)
Now, what did I eat for breakfast?
Not that much, as I recall.
Fried eggs, baked beans, and marmalade,
with hot porridge first of all.
And what about last night’s dinner?
That yummy seafood pasta —
With chocolate mousse to follow,
Now that might spell disaster!
And there’s something I’ve forgotten:
All those TV snacks last night —
Iced VoVos, Twisties, Jaffas —
Helped quell my appetite.
All the food that I’ve been eating
Has nowhere else to hide —
It’s all down in my tummy,
And I’d hate to see inside!
Touchy, feely
Touchy, feely
is it smooth or is it rough
Does it feel soft when you touch it
is it ragged, is it rough.
Touchy, feely
Touchy, feely
is it blunt or is it sharp
does it soothe you when you touch it
Does it make your fingers smart?
Touchy, feely
Touchy, feely
is it new or is it old
does it warm you when you feel it
Does it make your fingers cold?
Touchy, feely
Touchy, feely
Is it slimy like a frog?
No, it’s furry and its cuddly
It’s a brand new puppy dog.
Our senses are detectives
I hear a kettle boil and click.
I see the steam rise soft and thick.
I sense that kettle’s very hot.
Will I touch it? NO I’ll not.
I see green mould upon the fruit.
I touch it and it feels too soft.
I smell the scent of yucky rot.
Will I taste it? NO I’ll not.
I feel the raindrops on my skin.
I smell the dampness closing in.
I see the lightning on the hill.
Will I hear it? Yes I will.
I see the smoke and bonfire blaze.
I feel its warmth upon my face.
I hear the crackling spits and spills.
Will I smell it? Yes I will.
I hear a mossie’s whining flight.
It stops. And then I feel a bite.
Will I see it? Not at night.
Will I squash it? Yes I might!
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27
Celia said: If asked to do something, people may say YES and then change their mind. I tend to say NO first-up, THEN change my mind! Which way round will it be for you?
Five
four
three two wonder.
Count down to question, speculate, think.
Imagine and ponder, let your mind wander
down winding pathways right to the brink.
Over the edge is the not knowing dark
but out there you’ll find
the spark!
the spark!
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #17
Penny said: I am teaching a unit on space at the moment and indeed pondering on how much we don’t know and how we have to be brave and imaginative enough to spend time in the ‘not knowing’ to make new discoveries.
Fabulous flecks
of feather-white fluff
gracefully fall
from a frozen sky.
But moisture and cold
aren’t quite enough
to make water droplets
solidify.
Most of those freezing
flakes of snow
use something alive
on which to grow.
Those Jack Frost patterns
will only start
when a microbe lies
at a snowflake’s heart.
Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #28
Celia said: Fleeting, gentle, cool, melting … there’s something delightful about feeling the caress of a snowflake on my face. I can see all those rosy cheeks in the wintery weather down south. Love that snow!
Have you ever been to Muck?
Or to the island of Eigg?
Perhaps you’ve been to Rum?
No, I’m not pulling your leg!
Three islands lost in the mist,
Just off the West Scottish coast.
That’s where you can eat haggis
Or black pudding served on toast.
Houses dot the lonely coves
Where sea eagles swoop and call,
And when the gale comes howling
You’ll see nobody at all.
Muck and Eigg and Rum, oh aye,
Three little worlds of their own.
So hop onto the ferry,
And you too can call them home.
One sunny afternoon
on the footpath
near my home
a snail left a trail
of green and blue and black
which grabbed the attention
of both the art world and
the snail community
more and more snails
began to leave their
own winding trails of
every colour and hue
and soon there was
an abstract masterpiece
stretching all the way
from the hills to the city
which was front page news
all around the world
No is a magical word.
It has power.
No means I am in control.
I don’t have to be a people pleaser.
It’s good to say no.
But don’t overuse it.
Or you’ll end up all alone.
Use no wisely.
No is one of the first words you learn.
It’s mightier than two letters.
Don’t throw it around just anywhere.
No used at the right time gives you a happy heart.
Australian Children’s Poetry 