What’s a haberdasher?
Is it someone who runs fast?
No, it’s not, so let me tell you
about this shop that you walk past.
A haberdasher runs a shop
that sells haberdashery.
Things for sewing, things you won’t see
in a salmon hatchery.
Needles, threads, wool and yarn,
material by the metre —
that’s the stuff that Mum will buy
when haberdashers greet her.
Teacher’s note: In America, haberdashers sell men’s clothing!
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Fake food socks
we love to wear
but our doggy friends
think it’s not fair
The pizza socks
smell like fluff
The bacon socks
are really rough
The taco socks
dripping fake cheese
The hamburger socks
are another tease
The hot dog socks
look so yummy
The cupcake socks
the icings runny
But worst of all
and looking real
are the T Bone socks
that cause a drool
The dogs agree
this has to stop
let’s give food socks
A mighty chop
Hey, Mr Sunshine,
where are you today?
Rain is falling heavily,
the sky is dark and grey.
All the kids are stuck inside
with nowhere to play.
Hey, Mr Sunshine,
please come back one day.
Hey, Mr Sunshine,
welcome back today.
The sky is blue and clear and bright,
the rain has gone away.
Now the kids can run outside
to laugh and sing and play.
Thanks, Mr Sunshine,
sure beats yesterday!
Winter is upon us
It gets colder every day
I need a jacket on
To keep the cold away.
My warm pyjamas and
An extra blanket on the bed
A flannel pillow slip
Where I will rest my head.
Shorts become trousers
Thongs are put away
Tee shirts turn to jumpers
To keep the cold at bay.
Milk becomes hot chocolate
Salads become roast
And cereal is replaced
With honey on hot toast.
Trees are shedding leaves
In hibernation mode
Preparing for the winter
When growth is slowed.
Yes, winter is upon us
But is followed by the Spring
Warmth again is promised
A seasonal offering.
Photo from Pexels by Peter Frese
Where liquid water meets the air
it has a surface tension.
An outer layer of molecules
that all have strong attraction.
Water droplets round in shape
like beads will often form,
hanging on a cobweb’s threads
like jewels in the dawn.
And on a pond small insects simply
walk along its top.
Their tiny feet don’t break that layer.
Along the top they hop.
A raindrop on a window-pane
will slide towards the ground
as water is a fluid that
can easily move round.
It leaves behind a trailing tail
as it goes trickling past
because that surface tension makes
it stick upon the glass.
I like to pick out two big drops
and guess their moving pace
to see which one will trickle first
and win the window race.
Poem from The Science Rhymes Book. Illustration by Amy Sheehan
The morning mist lingers,
doesn’t want to go.
The air crackles,
overnight was zero.
I’ve stoked the fire,
boiled the tea,
a long cold day
awaits me.
Am I a cathedral —
or something finer?
Maybe a palace,
or an ocean liner?
Am I a museum,
studded with gold?
A famous art gallery
with pictures old?
The fact is, I’m nothing
much of a sensation.
I’m just the local
railway station!
(Teacher’s note: Kecskemet —pronounced KETCH-kem-ayt — is the eighth largest city in Hungary. It is located at the north of the Hungarian South Great Plain. In January, temperatures drop below zero; in July they average 22 degrees Celsius. The famous composer Zoltan Kodaly was born here. In the years under Communist rule, many public places such as railway stations were decorated to inspire awe and express the power of the State.)
Why do mothers have one date
on which we choose to celebrate
the love we feel for all they share;
for all their work; how much they care?
Throughout the year – on other days –
must we store our pride and praise?
Should we save our hugs and thanks
in special Honour Mother banks?
Are we meant to leave love locked
inside a vault, our feelings blocked,
until that Thanks Mum! payday nears,
rewarding Mother’s sweat and tears?
Mothers toil, protect, and nourish,
every day, to help us flourish.
Spoil your mum on Mother’s Day …
and All Year Round, in every way.
PJ Rodriguez
i have such a big umbrella,
but i’m such a little fella.
i look a treat with my galoshes,
a splish and splash and silly sploshes,
shielded from so many showers,
walking among rain-speckled flowers,
and now the wind blows through my hair,
blowing my brolly when i’m unaware
and turning it inside-out!
god of the skies, oh what a clout!
my poor brolly rolls end on end
that i’m sooooo wet…condemned!
o silly golly gosh, you brolly!
how you make me mad and yet…so jolly!…
I wonder where they come from,
I wonder where they go,
I wonder who might use them,
as they hurry to and fro.
Is a ghost abroad at night?
Does it haunt this secret place?
I can hear its shuffling feet,
but I cannot see its face!
So ancient are these steps,
So stony cold and bare,
In the heart of old Vienna,
By a bleak and wintry square.
Australian Children’s Poetry 