Did dinosaurs roam this way?
Did monsters search for prey?
And ancient man — did he hunt here
With just a humble spear?
The forest holds its secrets fast,
Conspires to shroud the past,
Yet still a lost world’s whispering,
Tangled vines are shivering.
The mists of time will claim me,
And who will ever blame me,
If I venture to explore
What no one’s seen before.
Gold Coast hinterland. Photo by James Aitchison
This is the way I like to see
the ocean and the sky.
No pollution, no rubbish dumped,
no plastic floating by.
Oceans and skies, clean and clear,
the way they ought to be;
if you agree they should be saved,
it’s up to you and me.
Sea and sky, South Island, New Zealand. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Teacher’s note: What could you do to keep oceans and rivers clean?
Our lovely Aussie icon
The cuddly Koala Bear
Is sometimes hard to spot
High up in the air
Their habitat is shrinking
As we timber fell their trees
And bushfires ravage homeland
Igniting tinder dry gum leaves
Let’s take care of our sleepy friend
So we can entertain the tourists
With drop bear tales, Caramellos
And natural sightings in the forests
Poem inspired by June picture prompt from artwork by Melissa Varoy
Mint green is the smell of the gum trees after rain,
of Vicks rubbed onto chests by warm hands.
Moss green is the fuzz beneath my fingertips,
soft wooly jumpers and patterned socks.
Emerald green are the shiny new wellies
with polka-dots that keep feet dry.
Army green is the smears of grass and mud
on the knees of trackpants and footy boots.
Lime green is a chorus of frogs,
a cackle of twenty-eights,
a quaver of silvereyes.
Olive green is my sickly complexion,
the contents of
a crumple of tissues and
a steaming hot bowl of
comforting
pea and ham soup.
Image from Pexels
She seemed extremely cheerful
when she greeted us today
and welcomed us so warmly
as we set out on our way.
The tracks were bathed in sunlight
and the sky was powder blue.
The kookaburras chortled
till they had us chuckling too.
The undergrowth was buzzing
and the leaves of all the trees
were waving to each other
as they frolicked in the breeze.
But now she’s in a temper
and she’s grumbling from up high.
I can’t see blue above me,
just an angry looking sky.
The sun’s no longer smiling
and the clouds are turning black.
The rumbling’s sounding louder,
so, it’s time we headed back.
That gentle breeze has strengthened
to become a howling gale.
It’s started raining torrents
and we’re drenched from head to tail.
This monster she’s unleashing
is undoubtedly deranged.
I can’t believe how swiftly
Mother Nature’s mood has changed.
Image from Pexels
The bright afternoon is over,
the sun is low in the sky,
the world is holding its breath
and the trees are waving goodbye.
The first night creatures are stirring
and bats come out to play,
as the night spreads over the plain
and claims the leavings of the day.
When the sun goes down by James Aitchison
Desert sunset, Australia. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Lately I’ve become quite the honey connoisseur,
Trying different flavours as I go from store to store.
I’ve learnt the taste and colour depends on the flower.
Stringybark is dark while Blue Gum is amber.
Worker bees forage and collect the nectar;
Caring for the queen – they will fiercely protect her.
Drone bees have no stinger and they are the males,
While females do a waggle dance by ‘talking’ with their tails.
Keep on buzzing, little bees, I’m in awe of your skill.
Lucky honey won’t expire ‘cause my shelf is now full.
It’s time for gooey sweetness on my toast and in my tea.
Then I’ll plant some garden flowers to keep the honey bees happy.
Honey Bee by Linda Davidson
Photo taken by Linda Davidson
Happy World Bee Day !!
A row of Ficus
Line the drive
Evergreen
And air revive.
On a branch
Possums nest
Escaping from
Daylights quest.
Annoyingly
The leaves shed
Continuously
The drive, their bed.
Falling softly
When winds blow
Floating leaves
Put on a show.
A quiet whisper
Through the trees
As branches shuffle
In the breeze.
Lovely Ficus
Large and strong
Manicured
They’re now oblong.
As they look out
Upon the street
The trees observe
The passing feet.
They see the birds
That fly on by
Or those that perch
On branches high.
Lovely Ficus
Line the drive
Evergreen
Where they survive.
Lovely Ficus (Ficus hillii) by Toni Newell
Photo taken by Toni Newell
candy coloured twists and twirls
little wicks charred and curled
melted wax holding fast
to memories of birthdays past
candles in a box by Graham Seal
Image from Pixabay
Whether we wills or
Whether we won’ts
Whether we dos or
Whether we don’ts
Whether we oughts or
Whether we on’ts
It all depends on choice
Whether we shalls or
Whether we shan’ts
Whether we cans or
Whether we can’ts
Whether we mights or
Whether we man’ts
It all depends on choice
Choice is rather marvelous gift
It offers a moment to make a shift
To think through or guess
To say no or yes
To do right or wrong
To be weak or strong
To be good or bad
To be calm or mad
Whether we wins or whether we loses
Depends in the end on how we chooses
Choices by Andrew Plant
Image from Pixabay
