My mother’s voice was loud and clear:
No use pretending not to hear!
I knew the words that soon would come.
They always left me feeling glum.
“No, no, no!
I said you may not go.
Unless you clear up all your mess
You will not hear me answer ‘Yes’.
Now pick those clothes up off the floor
And put them in their proper drawer.
Then, all your toys must be away
And after that, yes, go and play.”
Mum’s tone of voice left me no choice,
But task once done, meant play and fun.
Monty says: “Despite some changes in parenting styles over the years, I suspect many children (and parents) would still be familiar with a rule of this kind and its benefits.”
If clouds were beds then I would sleep
upon a cloud that’s soft and deep.
A cumulus cloud, that’s its name,
though as a name it’s rather lame
because it doesn’t make you think
of fluffy clouds in which you’d sink
into their white caressing sheets,
nor how you’d lie and dream of treats
or winning that important game,
so, bed-cloud is a better name.
If clouds were cars then I would race
a wispy cloud, high up near space.
A cirrus cloud is what they say-
that doesn’t seem a place to stay
behind the wheel and speed around
a track that’s high up off the ground.
I want a simple name that shows
a cloud that goes and goes and goes,
a cloud that’s fast and fun to use
so, car-cloud is the name I choose.
If clouds were homes then mine would be
one stretching far as you can see.
A stratus cloud is what it’s called,
but that name doesn’t say it’s sprawled
across the sky- a wide, flat field,
where there’d be ample space to build
a house, with rooms for everyone,
a garden where we’d play and run,
and even an enormous shed,
so, I call those home-clouds instead.
(Previously published in Orbit (The School Magazine), Issue 9, October 2016.)
How do you doodle?
Leafy-shapes or people?
Zigzag sharp
or swirly soft.
Spirals, squares or circles?
Why do we doodle?
Feeling tense or troubled?
Trying not to
go to sleep.
Puzzled, bored or muddled?
Doodling while listening
prevents our mind from wandering.
It helps to pen
a drawing-hook.
But NOT in someone else’s book!
Celia said: What’s the point of doodling? Well it turns out that, rather than being a distraction, it can help us focus! So go ahead – use your super-doodle power. (My favourites are curls and swirls.)
I find travelling a mystery,
‘specially if I fall asleep.
First I was there, now I am here.
How can that be?
All it takes is time passing –
plus a bus, a tram, a train,
a boat, a car, a plane.
Then I am where I wasn’t before.
It’s a riddle I hope never
to solve. Even more than
travelling from city to bush,
bush to sea: I like the mystery.
One day when you least expect to succeed.
Be brave enough to have a go.
With rocks weighing down your chest,
and bile in your throat.
They think you can’t do it.
They wait to laugh,
because they think you’ll fail.
Take a deep breath and dig in deep.
Don’t let the mind speak stop you.
Your skin is pale and clammy,
your eyes blink in the blinding light,
you’re feeling overwhelmed
by the thunderous clapping and pressure to perform.
Your nauseous tummy rolls,
you suck in some air.
You’re feeling quite unwell.
As the camera pans in close,
you know you’ve got this.
For after twenty meat pies
You’ve won.
Splodge was a kitten who was all alone,
Without a family and without a home.
Everyone said as they kicked him away
‘No one ever wants a skinny little stray.’
Splodge was sad because they were right,
A skinny little stray is not a welcome sight.
To find a nice home as a cute little cat
It was important to eat and get very fat.
He hunted birds with a gleam in his eye,
But alas poor Splodge never learned to fly.
He searched the garbage for something to munch,
But the alley cats had eaten everything for lunch.
The fishes in the pond looked yummy to eat,
But Splodge only caught four very wet feet.
He shook and shivered in a dreadful storm
And dreamed of being well fed and warm.
The rain kept dripping on his poor wet head,
And deep was the puddle of his very cold bed.
He climbed into a nest big enough for a cat,
Welcomed by two ravens as tasty drowned rat.
Splodge escaped by dropping to the ground,
Cats eat birds, not the other way around.
He sneaked into a kennel, just until he dried,
Along came a dog and bit him till he cried.
Searching for a home, Splodge begged at every door,
Up and over back fences until his paws were sore.
But everyone said as they kicked him away
‘No one ever wants a skinny little stray.’
One special day, a gentle voice said,
‘Be welcome, Puss. Come and get fed.’
Splodge was very scared and turned to run,
‘Do stay,’ begged the voice. ‘Cats are such fun.’
When he was offered a large bowl of meat,
Splodge remembered how he loved to eat.
He was so hungry that he gobbled and gobbled,
He ate and ate until his tummy wobbled.
He groomed his whiskers and washed his face,
And kept on eating at a much slower pace.
Splodge now has a home to call his own,
And someone to love so he’s no longer alone.
Contented at last and now very fat,
Splodge is the cat that sits on the mat.
Last night, the full moon
hung like a papery lamp
over my quiet road.
I savoured the chilly sky –
the moon tagging my shadow.
(first published in The Unidentified Flying Omelette, ed. Andrew Fusek Peters, Hodder & Stoughton)
Night skies flash
Windows groan
Parents clash
Dinosaurs roam
Shadows hover
Bear held tight
Under the covers
A fearful night
It’s best to say YES to sensible food.
Eat all our veggies
with meat well chewed.
It’s best to say YES to exercise.
It helps keep us fit
and also wise.
It’s best to say YES to a good night’s sleep.
With eight to ten hours
of dreaming deep.
BUT
It’s hard to say NO to late TV shows
with popcorn or ice-cream
or marshmallows.
SO …
You wouldn’t say YES, if handed a plate
of yummy baked cakes
or some sweet chocolate …
would you?
Celia said: When we’re tired, we are more likely to give in to temptations. Well that’s my excuse. What’s yours?
Self-controlled people have better lives – but for the rest, lack of willpower is more like physical fatigue than moral failure, says Roy F. Baumeister, professor of social psychology at Florida State University.
Australian Children’s Poetry 